«Well, I don't know. Only, they-they-told me you would.»
«THEY told you I would. Whoever told you's ANOTHER lunatic. I never heard the beat of it. Who's THEY?»
«Why, everybody. They all said so, m'am.»
It was all she could do to hold in; and her eyes snapped, and her fingers worked like she wanted to scratch him; and she says:
«Who's 'everybody'? Out with their names, or ther'll be an idiot short.»
He got up and looked distressed, and fumbled his hat, and says:
«I'm sorry, and I warn't expecting it. They told me to. They all told me to. They all said, kiss her; and said she'd like it. They all said it-every one of them. But I'm sorry, m'am, and I won't do it no more
—I won't, honest.»
«You won't, won't you? Well, I sh'd RECKON you won't!»
«No'm, I'm honest about it; I won't ever do it again-till you ask me.»
«Till I ASK you! Well, I never see the beat of it in my born days! I lay you'll be the Methusalem-numskull of creation before ever I ask you
—or the likes of you.»
«Well,» he says, «it does surprise me so. I can't make it out, somehow. They said you would, and I thought you would. But-« He stopped and looked around slow, like he wished he could run across a friendly eye somewheres, and fetched up on the old gentleman's, and says, «Didn't YOU think she'd like me to kiss her, sir?»
«Why, no; I-I-well, no, I b'lieve I didn't.»
Then he looks on around the same way to me, and says:
«Tom, didn't YOU think Aunt Sally 'd open out her arms and say, 'Sid Sawyer-'»
«My land!» she says, breaking in and jumping for him, «you impudent young rascal, to fool a body so-« and was going to hug him, but he fended her off, and says:
«No, not till you've asked me first.»
So she didn't lose no time, but asked him; and hugged him and kissed him over and over again, and then turned him over to the old man, and he took what was left. And after they got a little quiet again she says:
«Why, dear me, I never see such a surprise. We warn't looking for YOU at all, but only Tom. Sis never wrote to me about anybody coming but him.»
«It's because it warn't INTENDED for any of us to come but Tom,» he says; «but I begged and begged, and at the last minute she let me come, too; so, coming down the river, me and Tom thought it would be a first-rate surprise for him to come here to the house first, and for me to by and by tag along and drop in, and let on to be a stranger. But it was a mistake, Aunt Sally. This ain't no healthy place for a stranger to come.»
«No-not impudent whelps, Sid. You ought to had your jaws boxed; I hain't been so put out since I don't know when. But I don't care, I don't mind the terms-I'd be willing to stand a thousand such jokes to have you here. Well, to think of that performance! I don't deny it, I was most putrified with astonishment when you give me that smack.»
We had dinner out in that broad open passage betwixt the house and the kitchen; and there was things enough on that table for seven families
—and all hot, too; none of your flabby, tough meat that's laid in a cupboard in a damp cellar all night and tastes like a hunk of old cold cannibal in the morning. Uncle Silas he asked a pretty long blessing over it, but it was worth it; and it didn't cool it a bit, neither, the way I've seen them kind of interruptions do lots of times. There was a considerable good deal of talk all the afternoon, and me and Tom was on the lookout all the time; but it warn't no use, they didn't happen to say nothing about any runaway nigger, and we was afraid to try to work up to it. But at supper, at night, one of the little boys says:
«Pa, mayn't Tom and Sid and me go to the show?»
«No,» says the old man, «I reckon there ain't going to be any; and you couldn't go if there was; because the runaway nigger told Burton and me all about that scandalous show, and Burton said he would tell the people; so I reckon they've drove the owdacious loafers out of town before this time.»
So there it was!-but I couldn't help it. Tom and me was to sleep in the same room and bed; so, being tired, we bid good-night and went up to bed right after supper, and clumb out of the window and down the lightning-rod, and shoved for the town; for I didn't believe anybody was going to give the king and the duke a hint, and so if I didn't hurry up and give them one they'd get into trouble sure.
On the road Tom he told me all about how it was reckoned I was murdered, and how pap disappeared pretty soon, and didn't come back no more, and what a stir there was when Jim run away; and I told Tom all about our Royal Nonesuch rapscallions, and as much of the raft voyage as I had time to; and as we struck into the town and up through the-here comes a raging rush of people with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke astraddle of a rail-that is, I knowed it WAS the king and the duke, though they was all over tar and feathers, and didn't look like nothing in the world that was human-just looked like a couple of monstrous big soldier-plumes. Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn't ever feel any hardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing to see. Human beings CAN be awful cruel to one another.
We see we was too late-couldn't do no good. We asked some stragglers about it, and they said everybody went to the show looking very innocent; and laid low and kept dark till the poor old king was in the middle of his cavortings on the stage; then somebody give a signal, and the house rose up and went for them.
So we poked along back home, and I warn't feeling so brash as I was before, but kind of ornery, and humble, and to blame, somehow-though I hadn't done nothing. But that's always the way; it don't make no difference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain't got no sense, and just goes for him anyway. If I had a yaller dog that didn't know no more than a person's conscience does I would pison him. It takes up more room than all the rest of a person's insides, and yet ain't no good, nohow. Tom Sawyer he says the same.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
WE stopped talking, and got to thinking. By and by Tom says:
«Looky here, Huck, what fools we are to not think of it before! I bet I know where Jim is.»
«No! Where?»
«In that hut down by the ash-hopper. Why, looky here. When we was at dinner, didn't you see a nigger man go in there with some vittles?»
«Yes.»
«What did you think the vittles was for?»
«For a dog.»
«So 'd I. Well, it wasn't for a dog.»
«Why?»
«Because part of it was watermelon.»
«So it was-I noticed it. Well, it does beat all that I never thought about a dog not eating watermelon. It shows how a body can see and don't see at the same time.»
«Well, the nigger unlocked the padlock when he went in, and he locked it again when he came out. He fetched uncle a key about the time we got up from table-same key, I bet. Watermelon shows man, lock shows prisoner; and it ain't likely there's two prisoners on such a little plantation, and where the people's all so kind and good. Jim's the prisoner. All right-I'm glad we found it out detective fashion; I wouldn't give shucks for any other way. Now you work your mind, and study out a plan to steal Jim, and I will study out one, too; and we'll take the one we like the best.»
What a head for just a boy to have! If I had Tom Sawyer's head I wouldn't trade it off to be a duke, nor mate of a steamboat, nor clown in a circus, nor nothing I can think of. I went to thinking out a plan, but only just to be doing something; I knowed very well where the right plan was going to come from. Pretty soon Tom says:
«Ready?»
«Yes,» I says.
«All right-bring it out.»
«My plan is this,» I says. «We can easy find out if it's Jim in there. Then get up my canoe to-morrow night, and
