“The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” is about the unusual life of a young boy living in a Mississippi River town during a summer in the 1840s. Tom lives with his Aunt Polly, his dead mother’s sister, along with his half-brother, Sid, and his cousin, Mary. By the second chapter, Tom’s naughty character is revealed with the well-known fence whitewashing scene. Tom meets the new girl in town, Becky Thatcher, and falls in love with her. He begins a keen flirtation with her at school, which leads to his asking her to be “engaged” with him by lunchtime of her first day.

《汤姆·索亚历险记》是美国著名小说家马克·吐温的代表作，发表于1876年。小说主人公汤姆·索亚天真活泼，富于幻想和冒险，不堪忍受束缚个性，枯燥乏味的生活，幻想干一番英雄事业。小说通过主人公的冒险经历，对美国虚伪庸俗的社会习俗、伪善的宗教仪式和刻板陈腐的学校教育进行了讽刺和批判，以欢快的笔调描写了少年儿童自由活泼的心灵。《汤姆·索亚历险记》以其浓厚的深具地方特色的幽默和对人物敏锐观察，一跃成为最伟大的儿童文学作品，也是一首美国“黄金时代”的田园牧歌。

《Chapter 35》
THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure -- and not by boys, but men –pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys.
The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious -- a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got -- no, it was what he was promised -- he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days -- and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter.
Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie -- a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it.
Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both.
Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society -- no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it -- and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot.
He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said:
"Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for -- well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat -- I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell -- everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it."
"Well, everybody does that way, Huck."
"Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't stand it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy –I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming -- dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort -- I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks --" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury] -- "And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom -- I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it -- well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky-here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes -- not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git -- and you go and beg off for me with the widder."
"Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it."
"Like it! Yes -- the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!"
Tom saw his opportunity --
"Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber."
"No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?"
"Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know."
Huck's joy was quenched.
"Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?"
"Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is -- as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility -- dukes and such."
"Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, would you, Tom?"
"Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I don't want to -- but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't."
Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said:
"Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom."
"All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck."
"Will you, Tom -- now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?"
"Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe."
"Have the which?"
"Have the initiation."
"What's that?"
"It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang."
"That's gay -- that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you."
"Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find -- a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now."
"Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom."
"Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood."
"Now, that's something like! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet."
CONCLUSION
SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a boy, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a man. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop -- that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can.
Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present.

《第三十五章　受人尊敬的哈克与“强盗”为伍》
汤姆和哈克两人意外地发了横财，这下轰动了圣彼得堡这个穷乡僻壤的小村镇。读者读到这里可以松口气了。钱数多不说，又全是现金，真让人难以置信。到处的人们都在谈论此事，对他表示羡慕，称赞不已，后来有人因为过份激动，结果被弄得神魂颠倒。现在，圣彼得堡镇上每间闹鬼的屋子都被掘地三尺，木板被一块块拆掉，为的是找财宝——而且这一切全是大人们的所为，其中一部分人干得十分起劲和认真。汤姆和哈克两人无论走到哪里，人们都巴结他俩，有的表示羡慕，有的睁大眼睛观看。两个孩子记不得以前他们说话在人们心目中是否有份量，再现在大不一样。他们无论说什么，人们都看得很宝贵，到处重复他俩的话。就连他们的一举一动都被认为意义重大。显然，他俩已失去了作为普通人的资格，更有甚者，有人收集了他俩过去的资料，说以前他俩就超凡不俗。村里的报纸还刊登了两个小孩的小传。
道格拉斯寡妇把哈克的钱拿出去按六分利息放债，波莉姨妈委托撒切尔法官以同样利息把汤姆的钱也拿出去放债。现在每个孩子都有一笔数目惊人的收入。平常日子以及半数的星期日，他俩每天都有一块大洋的收入。这笔钱相当一个牧师的全年收入——不，准确地说，牧师拿不到那些，只是上面先给他们开张空头支票而已。那时，生活费用低，１元２角５分钱就够一个孩子上学、膳宿的费用，连穿衣、洗澡等都包括在内。
撒切尔法官十分器重汤姆，他说汤姆绝不是个平庸的孩子，否则他不会救出他的女儿。听到贝基悄悄地告诉他，汤姆在校曾替她受过，挨过鞭笞时，法官显然被感动了。她请求父亲原谅汤姆。汤姆撒了个大谎主要是为了替她挨鞭笞，法官情绪激动，大声说，那个谎是高尚的，它是慷慨、宽宏大量的谎话。它完全有资格，昂首阔步，永垂青史，与华盛顿那句曾大受赞扬的关于斧头的老实话①争光！贝基见父亲踏着地板，跺着脚说这句话时显得十分伟大了不起，她以前从没见过父亲是这个样子。她直接跑去找到汤姆，把这事告诉了他。
①据说华盛顿总统小时候用父亲给他的小斧子曾把一棵樱桃树砍掉，当父亲追问时，他不怕受罚，诚实地承认了自己的过错。
撒切尔法官希望汤姆以后成为一名大律师或是著名的军人。他说他打算安排汤姆进国家军事学院，然后再到最好的法学院接受教育，这样将来随便当律师、做军人或是身兼两职都行。
哈克·费恩有了钱，又归道格拉斯寡妇监护，这样他踏入了社交圈子——不对，他是被拖进去，被扔进去的——于是他苦不堪言。寡妇的佣人帮他又梳又刷，把他收拾得干干净净，每晚又为他换上冷冰冰的床单。哈克想在上面找个小黑点按在心口做朋友都找不到。他吃饭得用刀叉，还要使餐巾、杯子和碟子；他又得念书，上教堂。说话枯燥无味没关系，但谈吐要斯文，他无论走到那里，文明都束缚着他的手脚。
就这样，他硬着头皮忍受着，过了三个星期。突然有一天他不见了。寡妇急得要命，四处去找他，找了整整有两天两夜。众人们也十分关注此事，他们到处搜索，有的还到河里去打捞。第三天一大早，汤姆挺聪明，在破旧的屠宰场后面的几只旧空桶中找人，结果在一只空桶中发现了哈克，他就在这过夜。哈克刚吃完早饭，吃的全是偷来的剩饭菜。他抽着烟斗，正舒服地躺在那里休息。他邋遢不堪，蓬头垢面，穿着往日快快活活时那套有趣的烂衣服。汤姆把他撵出来，告诉他已惹了麻烦，要他快回家。哈克脸上悠然自得的神情消失了，马上呈现出一脸的愁相。他说：
“汤姆，别提那事了，我已经试过了，那没有用，没用，汤姆。那种生活不适合我过，我不习惯。寡妇待我好，够处，可是我受不了那一套。她每天早晨叫我按时起床；她叫我洗脸；他们还给我使劲地梳；她不让我在柴棚里睡觉。汤姆，我得穿那种倒霉的衣服，紧绷绷的，有点不透气。衣服很漂亮，弄得我站也不是，坐也不行，更不能到处打滚。我已经很长时间没有到过别人家的地窖里，也许有许多年了。我还得去做礼拜，弄得浑身是汗——我恨那些一文不值的布道辞！在那里我既不能捉苍蝇，也不能嚼口香糖，星期日整天不能赤脚。吃饭、上床睡觉、起床等寡妇都要按铃，总而言之，一切都井然有序，真让人受不了。”
“不过，哈克，大家都是这样的。”
“汤姆，你说得没错，不过我不是大家，我受不了，捆得那样紧真让人受不了。还有，不费劲就能搞到吃的东西，我不喜欢这种吃法，就是要钓鱼也得先征求寡妇的同意，去游个泳也得先问问她，真他妈的，干什么事都要先问她才行。说话也得斯文，真不习惯——我只好跑到阁楼顶上胡乱放它一通，这样嘴里才有滋味，否则真不如死了算，汤姆。寡妇不让我抽烟，不让我在人前大声讲话，或大喊大叫，还不许我伸懒腰，抓痒痒——”（接着他显得十分烦躁和委屈的样子。）
“还有呢，她整天祈祷个没完！我从来也没见过她这样的女人。
我得溜走，汤姆——不溜不行呀，况且，学校快要开学了，不跑就得上学，那怎么能受得了呢。汤姆？喂，汤姆，发了横财并不像人们说得那样是个非常愉快的事情。发财简直就是发愁，受罪，最后弄得你真希望不如一死了之。这儿的衣服我穿合适，在桶里睡觉也不错，我再不打算离开这儿。汤姆，要不是那些钱，我根本不会有这么多的麻烦事情，现在，你把我那份钱也拿去，偶尔给我毛把钱用就行了，不要常给，因为我觉得容易得到的东西并没有什么大价值。请你到寡妇那儿为我告辞吧。”
“噢，哈克，你知道，我不能这样做，这不太好。你如果稍微多试几天，就会喜欢那种生活的。”
“喜欢那种生活——就像喜欢很长时间坐在热炉子上一样。我不干，汤姆，我不要当富人，也不想住在那闷热倒霉的房子里。我喜欢森林、河流、那些大桶，我决不离开这些东西。真是倒霉，刚弄了几条熗，找到了山洞，准备去当强盗，却偏偏碰上了这种事情，真让人扫兴。”
汤姆瞅到了机会——
“喂，哈克，富了也能当强盗啊。”
“真的吗？你说话当真，汤姆？”
“当然当真，就像我人坐在这儿一样，千真万确。不过，我们不接受不体面的人入伙，哈克。”
哈克的高兴劲被一下子打消了。
“不让我入伙，汤姆？你不是让我当过海盗吗？”
“是让你当过，不过这跟入伙没什么关系，总的说来，强盗比海盗格调要高。在许多国家，强盗算是上流人当中的上流人，都是些公爵之类的人。”
“汤姆，你一直对我很好，不是吗？你不会不让我入伍，对吧，汤姆？不会不让我入伍吧，汤姆，是不是？”
“哈克，我不愿不让你入伍，也不想那么干，不过要是让你进来，别人会怎么说呢？他们会不屑一顾地说：瞧汤姆·索亚那帮乌合之众，全是些低贱的人。这是指你的，哈克。你不会喜欢他们这么说你，我也不喜欢。”
哈克沉默了一会，思想上在作激烈的斗争。最后他开了腔：
“得，我再回到寡妇家里应付上一个月，看能不能适应那种生活，不过汤姆，你会让我入伍，对吧？”
“好吧，哈克，一言为定！走，老伙计，我去跟寡妇讲，让她对你要求松一些。”
“你答应了，汤姆？你答应了，这太好了。在些难事上，她要是能宽容一些，我就可以背地里抽烟、诅咒。要么挺过去，要么完蛋拉倒。你打算什么时候结伙当强盗？”
“噢，这就干。把孩子们集中起来，也许今晚就举行入伙仪式。”
“举行什么？”
“举行入伙仪式。”
“什么叫入伙仪式？”
“就是发誓互相帮忙，永不泄密。就是被剁成肉酱也不能泄密。如果有人伤害了你，就把他和他全家统统干掉，一个不留。”
“这真好玩，真有意思，汤姆。”
“对，我想是好玩。发誓仪式得在半夜举行，要选在最偏僻、最恐怖的地方干。闹鬼的房子最好，可现在全被拆了。”
“半夜时分干还是不错的，汤姆。”
“对。还要对棺材发誓，咬破指头签名呐。”
“这才真有点像样呢！这比当海盗要强一万倍。汤姆，我到死都跟着寡妇在一起了。我要是始终能成为一名响当当的强盗，人人都会谈到我，那么，我想，她会为自己把我从困境中解救出来而自豪。”结束语故事至此结束。因为这确实是个儿童的故事，所以写到这里必须搁笔，再写下去就得涉及到成人时期。写成人的故事，作者很清楚写到结婚成家就算了事，但是写青少年则得见好就收。
本书中的人物有许多仍然健在，过着富裕快乐的生活。有朝一日再来续写这个故事，看看原来书中的小孩子们长大后做什么，这也许是件值得做的事情。正因为如此，明智的做法就是现在不要越俎代庖。

《Chapter 34》
HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground."
"Shucks! what do you want to slope for?"
"Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom."
"Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you."
Sid appeared.
"Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say -- ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?"
"Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?"
"It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say -- I can tell you something, if you want to know."
"Well, what?"
"Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows -- the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here -- couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!"
"Secret about what, Sid?"
"About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat."
Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.
"Sid, was it you that told?"
"Oh, never mind who it was. Somebody told -- that's enough."
"Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There -- no thanks, as the widow says" -- and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare -- and to-morrow you'll catch it!"
Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty --
And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations.
The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said:
"Huck don't need it. Huck's rich."
Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it:
"Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile -- I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute."
Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest -- and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied.
"Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt polly. "He -- well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never --"
Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said:
"There -- what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!"
The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said:
"I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow."
The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property.

《第三十四章　黄金如山，富了汤姆与哈克》
哈克说：“汤姆，要是弄到绳子，我们就可以滑下去，窗户离地面没有多高。”
“胡说，干吗要溜走呢？”
“是这样的，跟一大群人在一起怪不习惯的，受不了。汤姆，反正我不下去。”
“真是的，讨厌！其实下去没什么大不了的事，我根本不在乎，我会照应你的。”
希德来了。
“汤姆，”他说，“波莉姨妈一下午都在等你呐。玛丽为你准备好了礼服。大家都为你担心。喂，这不是蜡烛油和粘土吗？在你衣服上。”
“得了，希德先生，你少管闲事。他们今天为什么在这里大吃大喝呢？”
“这是寡妇家的宴会，她经常请客。这次是为了威尔斯曼和他儿子举行的，感谢他们的救命之恩。喂，还想知道得更多吗？我可以告诉你。”
“嗯，是什么事？”
“什么事？老琼斯先生今晚有惊人的消息要告诉这里的人们。他在和姨妈谈这事时，被我听到了这个秘密，不过我想，现在这已算不上什么秘密了，人人都知道，寡妇也知道，但她却尽力掩饰。琼斯先生一定要哈克出席。你瞧，哈克不在场，他怎么能说出那个大秘密呢！”
“希德，是哪方面的秘密？”
“就是哈克跟踪强盗到寡妇家的那件事情。我想琼斯想利用此事来个一鸣惊人的举动，不过我敢打赌，他不会成功。”
希德笑了，心满意足地笑了。
“希德，是你把秘密泄露出去的吧！”
“得了，别管是谁干的，反正有人已说出了那个秘密，这就够了。”
“希德，全镇只有一个下流家伙会这么干，那就是你。你要是处在哈克的位置，你早就溜之大吉，根本不会向人报告强盗的消息。你只会干些卑鄙龌龊的事情，见不得干好事的人受表扬。好，赏你这个——‘不用道谢’，照寡妇的说法。”
汤姆一边说，一边打他耳光，连踢带推把他撵出门外。“好，赶快去向姨妈告状吧，只要你敢，明天就有你好受的。”
几分钟过后，寡妇家的客人都坐在了晚餐桌旁，十几个小孩也被安排在同一间房里的小餐桌旁规规矩矩地坐着，那时的习俗就是这样。过了一会后，琼斯先生作了简短的发言，他感谢寡妇为他和儿子举办此次宴请，但他又说还有个很谦虚的人——
他说了很多后，突然戏剧性地宣布这次历险中哈克也在场。人们显得很惊讶的样子，实际上是故作的。要是在平常遇上这样欢快的场面，人们听到秘密后会显得更加热闹的。
可是只有寡妇一人却表现出相当吃惊的样子。她一个劲地赞扬和感激哈克的所作所为，结果哈克几乎忘却了众目睽睽下穿新衣不自在的感觉。
寡妇说她打算收养哈克，让他上学受教育，一旦有钱就让他做点小买卖。汤姆终于有机会搭上了腔，他说：
“哈克不需要那个，他富了。”
听了这句可笑的话，在座的来宾为了面子都忍着没有笑出来，但场面却让人尴尬。汤姆打破了沉默。
“哈克有钱了，你们或许不相信，不过他真有了很多的钱。喂，你们别笑，我会让你们看到的，请稍等片刻吧。”
汤姆跑到门外，那些人彼此迷惑不解，好奇地看着，再问哈克，他此时却张口结舌。
“希德，汤姆得了什么病？”波莉姨妈问道，“他呀——真是的，从来猜不透他，我从来没有——”
她还没说完，只见汤姆吃力地背着口袋走进来。他把黄色金币倒在桌上说：
“你们看呀！我刚才怎么说的？一半是哈克的，一半是我的！”
这一下使在座的人全都大吃一惊。大家只是瞪眼盯着桌上，一时没有人说话。接着大家一致要求汤姆说出原委。汤姆满口答应，于是就把事情的来龙去脉说了一遍，虽然话很长，但大家却听得津津有味，没有一个人插话打断他的叙述。
汤姆讲完后，琼斯先生说：
“我原以为今天我会让大家大吃一惊，可是听了汤姆的叙述，我承认我的根本不算什么了。”
钱被过了数，总共有一万二千块美元。尽管在座的人当中，有的家产不止这个数，可是一次见过这么多钱却还是头一回。

《Chapter 33》
WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferry-boat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher.
When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast.
Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something -- in order to pass the weary time –in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick –a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? And has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's palace" cannot rival it.
Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging.
This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing -- the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works.
The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said:
"I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag."
"Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?"
"Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's."
"YOU followed him?"
"Yes -- but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right."
Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before.
"Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon -- anyways it's a goner for us, Tom."
"Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!"
"What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?"
"Huck, it's in the cave!"
Huck's eyes blazed.
"Say it again, Tom."
"The money's in the cave!"
"Tom -- honest injun, now -- is it fun, or earnest?"
"Earnest, Huck -- just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?"
"I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost."
"Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world."
"Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's --"
"Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings."
"All right -- it's a whiz. When do you say?"
"Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?"
"Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom -- least I don't think I could."
"It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over."
"Less start right off, Tom."
"All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before."
A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said:
"Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow -- no houses, no woodyards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now."
They landed.
"Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it."
Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said:
"Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in -- because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang -- it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?"
"Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?"
"Oh, most anybody. Waylay people -- that's mostly the way."
"And kill them?"
"No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom."
"What's a ransom?"
"Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers -- you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books."
"Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate."
"Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that."
By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire.
The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered:
"Now I'll show you something, Huck."
He held his candle aloft and said:
"Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There -- on the big rock over yonder -- done with candle-smoke."
"Tom, it's a cross!"
"NOW where's your Number Two? 'under the cross,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!"
Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice:
"Tom, less git out of here!"
"What! and leave the treasure?"
"Yes -- leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain."
"No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died -- away out at the mouth of the cave -- five mile from here."
"No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you."
Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him --
"Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!"
The point was well taken. It had its effect.
"Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box."
Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said:
"He said under the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground."
They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said:
"Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay."
"That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation.
Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood.
"Hey, Huck! -- you hear that?"
Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed:
"My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!"
It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip.
"Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!"
"Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we have got it, sure! Say -- let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box."
It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently.
"I thought so," he said; "They carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along."
The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock.
"Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck.
"No, Huck -- leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies."
"What orgies?"
"I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff."
They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark.
"Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute."
He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said:
"Hallo, who's that?"
"Huck and Tom Sawyer."
"Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here -- hurry up, trot ahead -- I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it? -- or old metal?"
"Old metal," said Tom.
"I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature -- hurry along, hurry along!"
The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about.
"Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'."
Huck said with some apprehension -- for he was long used to being falsely accused:
"Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing."
The Welshman laughed.
"Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?"
"Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway."
"All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?"
This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed.
The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said:
"Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry."
"And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys."
She took them to a bedchamber and said:
"Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes -- shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's -- no, no thanks, Huck -- Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait -- come down when you are slicked up enough."
Then she left.

《第三十三章　印第安》
几分钟内，消息传开了，十几只小艇装满人往麦克道格拉斯山洞划去，渡船也满载着乘客随后而去。汤姆·索亚和撒切尔法官同乘一条小艇。
洞口的锁被打开，暗淡的光线下显现出一幅惨兮兮的景象。印第安·乔躺在地上，四肢伸直死了。他的脸离门缝很近，看上去好像在那最后一刻，企盼的眼神死盯着外面的光明和那自由自在的欢乐世界。汤姆受到了震动，因为他亲身在洞中呆过，所以能理解这个家伙当时的苦楚。他动了恻隐之心，但不管怎么说他觉得现在十分地快慰和安全，这一点他以前从没有体会到。自打他做证，证明那个流浪汉的罪行之后，他心头一直有种沉重的恐惧感。
印第安·乔的那把猎刀还在他身边，刀刃已裂成两半。他死前拼命用刀砍过那门下面的大横木，凿穿了个缺口，可是这没有用，外面的石头天然地形成了一个门框，用刀砍这样坚固的门框，简直是鸡蛋碰石头，根本不起作用，相反刀倒被砍得不成形了。就算没有石头，印第安·乔也是白费气力，他可以砍断大横木，但要想从门下面钻出来也是不可能的，他自己也明白这一点。他砍大横木，只是为了找点事干，为了打发那烦人的时光，以便有所寄托。往常，人们可以找到五六截游客们插在缝隙间的蜡烛头，可是这一次一截也没有，因为这个被困的家伙把所有的蜡烛头都找出来吃掉了。他还设法捉到几只蝙蝠，除了爪子外全吃掉了。这个可怜而又不幸的家伙最后是饿死的。不远处有个石笋，已有些年月，它是由头顶上的钟乳石滴水所形成的。他把石笋弄断后，把一块石头放在石笋墩上，凿出一个浅窝来接每隔三分钟才滴下来一滴宝贵的水。水滴声像钟表一般有规律，令人烦闷，一天一夜下来才能接满一汤匙。自金字塔刚出现，这水就在滴；特洛伊城陷落时；罗马城刚建立时；基督被钉上十字架时；征服者威廉大帝创建英国时；航海家哥伦布出航时；莱克星屯大屠杀鲜为人知时；那水就一直在滴个不停。现在它还在滴，即使等一切随着历史成为烟消云散，而后被人遗忘，它还会滴淌下去。世间万物是不是都有目的，负有使命呢？这滴水五千年来默默地流淌不断，是不是专为这个可怜虫准备的呢？它是不是还有另外重要的目的，再流它个一万年呢？这没什么要紧的。在那个倒霉的混血儿用石头窝接那宝贵的水之前，已过去了若干年。可是如今的游客来麦克道格拉斯山洞观光时，会长时驻足，盯着那块令人伤心的石头和缓缓而下的水滴，印第安·乔的“杯子”在山洞奇观中格外突出，连“阿拉丁宫殿”也比不上它。
印第安·乔被埋在山洞口附近。城里、乡下周围七里内的人都乘船或马车成群结队地来到这里。他们领着孩子，带来各种食物，都表示看到埋葬乔和看他被绞死差不多一样开心。
这件事过后人们不再向州长提赦免印第安·乔的事了。许多人都在请愿书上签了名，还开过许多声一把泪一把的会议，选了一群软心肠的妇女组成请愿团，身穿丧服到州长那里哭诉，请求他大发仁慈之心，别管自己的职责要求。据说印第安·乔手里有五条人命案，可那又怎么样呢？就算他是魔鬼撒旦，也还会有一帮糊涂蛋愿在请愿书上划押，并且从他们那永远没修好的“自来水龙头”里滴出泪水来洒在请愿书上。
埋了乔后的那天早晨，汤姆把哈克叫到一个无人的地方，跟他说件重要的事情。此时哈克从威尔斯曼和道格拉斯寡妇那里知道了汤姆历险的经过。可汤姆却说，他觉得他们有一件事没跟哈克说，这正是他现在要讲的。哈克脸色阴沉地说：
“我知道是什么，你进了二号，除威士忌外，你别的什么东西也没找到。虽然没人说是你干的，可我一听到威土忌那桩事，就知道一定是你干的，你没搞到钱，要不然的话，你早就跟我一人说了。汤姆，我总觉得，我们永远也得不到那份财宝。”
“我说哈克，我从来也没有告发客栈老板，星期六我去野餐时，客栈不是好好的吗？这你是知道的。你忘了吗，那天晚上该你去守夜。”
“噢，对了！怎么觉得好像是一年前的事情了。正是那天晚上，我跟在印第安·乔后面，一直跟到寡妇家。”
“原来是你跟在他后面呀！”
“是我，可别声张出去。我想印第安·乔还有朋友，我不想让他们来整我，要不是我，他这回准到了得克萨斯州，准没错。”
于是哈克像知己般地把他的全部历险经过告诉了汤姆。
在这之前，汤姆只听说过有关威尔斯曼的事情。“喂，”哈克接着回到老话题说，“哪个搞到威土忌，那钱也就落在他手里。反正没我俩的份。”
“哈克，那财宝根本就不在二号里！”
“你说什么？”哈克仔细打量着同伴的脸。“汤姆，难道你又有了新线索？”
“哈克，它就在洞里呀！”
哈克的眼睛闪闪发光。
“再说一遍听听，汤姆。”
“钱在洞里！”
“汤姆，你是开玩笑，还是说真格的？”
“当然是真格的，我一直都是这样。你跟我去，把它弄出来好吗？”
“发个誓！只要我们能作记号，找到回来的路，我就跟你去。”
“哈克，这次进洞，不会遇到任何麻烦事。”
“棒极了，你怎么想到钱在——”
“哈克，别急，进去就知道了，要是拿不到钱，我愿把我的小鼓，还有别的东西全都给你，决不失言。”
“好，一言为定。你说什么时候动身吧。”
“马上就去，你看呢？你身体行吗？”
“要进到很深的地方吗？我恢复得已经有三四天了，不过最远只能走一英里，汤姆，至少我觉得是这样。”
“哈克，别人进洞得走五英里，可有条近路只有我一人知道。哈克，我马上带你划小船过去。我让它浮在那儿，回来时我自己划船，根本不用你动手。”
“汤姆，我们这就走吧！”
“行，我们得备点面包、肉，还有烟斗、一两只小口袋、两三根风筝线，再带点他们叫洋火的那玩意。上次在洞里，好几回我想要是有些洋火可能就好了。”
中午稍过，两个孩子乘人不在“借”了条船，就出发了。
在离“空心洞”还有几英里的地方，汤姆说：
“你瞧，这高崖从上往下一个样：没房子，没锯木厂，灌木丛都一样。你再瞧那边崩塌处有块白色空地，那就是我们的记号之一。好了，现在该上岸了。”
他们上了岸。
“哈克，在这里用钓鱼竿就能够到我钻出来的洞，你肯定能找到洞口。”
哈克到处找了找，没找到什么。汤姆很神气地迈着大步走到一大堆绿树丛旁说：
“找到了！哈克，你瞧洞在这里；这是最隐蔽的洞口，别对外人说。我早就想当强盗，知道需要这样一个洞好藏身，可是到哪里能碰到这样理想的洞确实烦神，现在有了，但得保密，只能让乔·哈帕和本·罗杰斯进洞，因为我们得结帮成伙，要不然就没有派头。汤姆·索亚这名子挺响的，是不是，哈克？”
“嗯，是挺响的，汤姆，抢谁呢？”
“遇谁抢谁吧，拦路抢劫——都是这样干的。”
“还杀人吗？”
“不，不总是杀人，把他们撵到洞里，让他们拿钱来赎？”
“什么叫赎？”
“就是用钱来换人，叫他们把所有的钱统统拿出来。连朋友的钱也要弄来，若一年内不送上赎金，就放他们的血，通常就这么干。不过不要杀女人，只是把她们关起来就够了。她们长得总是很漂亮，也有钱，但一被抓住就吓得不行。你可以下她们的手表，拿别的东西，但对待她们，你要摘帽以示有礼，不管读什么书，你都会知道强盗是最有礼貌的人。接下来就是女人渐渐地对你产生好感，在洞里呆上一两周后，她们也就不哭了，随后你就是让她们走，她们也不走。要是你把她们带出去，她们会折回身，径直返回来。所有的书上都是这么描写的。”
“哇，太棒了，汤姆，当强盗是比做海盗好。”
“的确有些好处，因为这样离家近，看马戏什么的也方便。”
此刻，一切准备就绪，两个孩子就开始钻山洞。汤姆打头里走，他们好不容易走到通道的另一头，然后系紧捻好的风筝线，又继续往前走。没有几步路，他们来到泉水处，汤姆浑身一阵冷颤，他让哈克看墙边泥块上的那截蜡烛芯，讲述了他和贝基两人当时看着蜡烛火光摇曳，直至最后熄灭时的心情。
洞里死气沉沉，静得吓人。两个孩子开始压低嗓门，低声说话。他们再往前走，很快就钻进了另一个道，一直来到那个低凹的地方，借着烛光发现，这个地方不是悬崖，只是个二十英尺高的陡山坡，汤姆悄悄说：
“哈克，现在让你瞧件东西。”
他高高举起蜡烛说：
“尽量朝拐角处看，看见了吗？那边——那边的大石头上——有蜡烛烟熏出来的记号。”
“汤姆，我看那是十字！”
“那么你的二号呢？在十字架下，对吗？哈克，我就是在那看见印第安·乔伸出蜡烛的！”
哈克盯着那神秘的记号看了一阵，然后声音颤抖地说：
“汤姆，咱们出去吧！”
“什么？出去？不要财宝啦。”
“对，不要财宝啦。印第安·乔的鬼魂就在附近，肯定在。”
“不在这里，哈克，一定不在这里。在他死的地方，那洞口离这还有五英里远。”
“不，汤姆，它不在那里，它就在钱附近，我晓得鬼的特性，这你也是知道的。”
汤姆也动摇了，他担心也许哈克说得对，他也满脑的怀疑，但很快他有了个主意：
“喂，哈克，我俩真是十足的大傻瓜。印第安·乔的鬼魂怎么可能在有十字的地方游荡呢！”
汤姆这下说到点子上啦，他的话果真起了作用。
“汤姆，我怎么没想到十字能避邪呢。我们真幸运，我们的好十字。我觉得我们该从那里爬下去找那箱财宝。”
汤姆先下，边往下走，边打一些粗糙的脚蹬儿。哈克跟在后面，有大岩石的那个石洞分出四个叉道口。孩子查看了三个道口，结果一无所获，在最靠近大石头的道口里，他们找到了一个小窝，里边有个铺着毯子的地铺，还有个旧吊篮，一块熏肉皮，两三块啃得干干净净的鸡骨头，可就是没钱箱。两个小家伙一遍又一遍地到处找，可还是没找到钱箱，于是汤姆说：
“他说是在十字下，你瞧，这不就是最靠近十字底下的地方吗？不可能藏在石头底下面吧，这下面一点缝隙也没有。”
他们又到四处找了一遍便灰心丧气地坐下来。哈克一个主意也说不出来，最后还是汤姆开了口：
“喂，哈克，这块石头的一面泥土上有脚印和蜡烛油，另一面却什么也没有。你想想，这是为什么呢？我跟你打赌钱就在石头下面，我要把它挖出来。”
“想法不错，汤姆！”哈克兴奋地说道。
汤姆立刻掏出正宗的巴罗刀，没挖到四英寸深就碰到了木头。
“嘿，哈克，听到木头的声音了吗？”
哈克也开始挖，不一会工夫，他们把露出的木板移走，这时出现了一个通往岩石下的天然裂口。汤姆举着蜡烛钻了进去。汤姆说他看不到裂口尽头处，想进去看看，于是弯着腰穿过裂口。路越来越窄，渐渐地往下通去。他先是右，然后是左，曲曲弯弯地沿着通道往前走，哈克跟在汤姆后面。后来汤姆进了一段弧形通道，不久就大声叫道：“老天爷啊，哈克，你看这是什么？”
是宝箱，千真万确，它藏在一个小石窟里，旁边有个空弹药桶，两只装在皮套里的熗，两三双旧皮鞋，一条皮带，另外还有些被水浸得湿漉漉的破烂东西。
“财宝终于找到了！”哈克边说，边用手抓起一把变色的钱币。“汤姆，这下我们发财了。”
“哈克，我总觉得我们会找到的，真难以令人相信，不过财宝确实到手了！喂，别傻呆在这儿，把它拖出去，我来试试看，能不能搬动。”
箱子重有五十磅。汤姆费了好大的劲才把它提起来，可提着走却很吃力。
“我早就猜对了，”他说，“那天在闹鬼的房间里，他们拿箱子时，样子也是十分吃力，我看出来了，带来的这些小布袋子正好用上。”
钱很快被装进小袋子里，孩子们把它搬上去拿到十字岩石旁。
“我现在去拿熗和别的东西，”哈克说。
“别去拿，别动那些东西，我们以后当强盗会用得着那些东西，现在就放在那里。我们还要在那里聚会，痛饮一番，那可是个难得的好地方。”
“什么叫痛饮一番？”
“我也不知道，不过强盗们总是聚会痛饮，我们当然也要这样做。快走，哈克，我们在这里呆的时间太长了，现在不早了，我也饿了，等到船上就可以吃东西，抽香烟。”
不久他俩出来后钻进了绿树林，警惕地观察四周，发现岸边没人，就开始上船吃起饭，抽起烟来。
太阳快接近地平线时，他们撑起船离岸而去，黄昏中汤姆沿岸边划了很长时间，边划边兴高采烈地和哈克聊天，天刚黑他俩就上了岸。
“哈克，”汤姆说，“我们把钱藏到寡妇家柴火棚的阁楼上，早上我就回来把钱过过数，然后两人分掉，再到林子里找个安全的地方把它放好。你呆在这儿别动，看着钱，我去把本尼·泰勒的小车子偷来，一会儿就回来。”
说完，他就消失了，不一会工夫他带着小车子回来，把两个小袋子先扔上车，然后再盖上些烂布，拖着“货物”就出发了。来到威尔斯曼家时，他俩停下来休息，之后正要动身时，威尔斯曼走出来说：
“喂，那是谁呀？”
“是我俩，哈克和汤姆·索亚。”
“好极了！孩子们跟我来，大家都在等你俩呢。快点，头里小跑，我来拉车，咦，怎么不像看上去的轻？装了砖头？还是什么破铜烂铁？”
“烂铁。”汤姆说
“我也觉得像，镇上的孩子就是喜欢东找西翻弄些破铜烂铁卖给翻砂厂，最多不过换六个子。要是干活的话，一般都能挣双倍的钱，可人就是这样的，不说了，快走吧，快点！”
两个孩子想知道为什么催他们快走。
“别问了，等到了寡妇家就知道了。”
哈克由于常被人诬陷，所以心有余悸地问道：
“琼斯先生，我们什么事也没干呀！”
威尔斯曼笑了。
“噢，我不知道，我的好孩子，哈克，我也不知道是什么事，你跟寡妇不是好朋友吗？”
“是的，不管怎么说，她一直待我很好。”
“这就行了，那么你还有什么可怕的呢？
哈克反应慢，还没转过脑筋来就和汤姆一起被推进道格拉斯夫人家的客厅。琼斯先生把车停在门边后，也跟了进来。
客厅里灯火辉煌，村里有头有面的人物全都聚在这儿。他们是撒切尔一家、哈帕一家、罗杰斯一家、波莉姨妈、希德、玛丽、牧师、报馆撰稿人，还有很多别的人，大家全都衣着考究。寡妇热情地接待这两个孩子，这样的孩子谁见了都会伸出热情之手。他俩浑身是泥土和蜡烛油。波莉姨妈臊得满脸通红，皱着眉朝汤姆直摇头。这两个孩子可受了大罪。琼斯先生说：
“当时汤姆不在家，所以我就没再找他了，可偏巧在门口让我给碰上了。他和哈克在一起，这不，我就急急忙忙把他俩弄到这里。”
“你做得对，”寡妇说，“孩子们跟我来吧。”
她把两个孩子领到一间卧室，然后对他们说：
“你们洗个澡，换件衣服。这是两套新衣服，衬衣、袜子样样齐备。这是哈克的——不，用不着道谢，哈克，一套是琼斯先生拿来的，另一套是我拿来的。不过你们穿上会觉得合身的。穿上吧，我们等着——穿好就下来。”她说完走了出去。

《Chapter 32》
TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. people said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn.
Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah!
The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't -- and drifted out raining tears all over the place.
Aunt polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" -- then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home.
Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news.
Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness.
Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferrylanding; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps.
About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said:
"Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more."
"Why?"
"Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked -- and I've got the keys."
Tom turned as white as a sheet.
"What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!"
The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face.
"Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?"
"Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!"

《第三十二章　“大家快起来，孩子找到了！”》
日子到了星期二下午，一直挨到黄昏时刻，圣彼得堡全村仍沉浸在哀悼之中，两个走失的孩子尚无音讯。大家为他俩举行了公开的祈祷仪式。还有许多私自为他俩祈祷的人，个个诚心诚意，企望着他俩早日归来，可洞中传来的消息仍然和以前一样。大多数寻找的人都回家去各干各的事情，他们认为很显然不可能再找到那两个孩子了。撒切尔夫人病得不轻，一大部分时间烧得她直说胡话。她呼唤着孩子的名字，有时头抬起来整整有一分钟时间那么长听着，然后无力地呻吟着一头倒在床上。见此情形，大家都说真叫人心碎。波莉姨妈一直愁云笼罩，那头灰发现在几乎全都变白了。晚上整个村庄在一片悲哀和绝望的氛围里静了下来。
离半夜时分，村里的钟突然全噹噹地响起来，声音特别大，顷刻之间，街道上就挤满了人，他们连衣服都没来得及穿好，站在那里大声嚷着：“大家快起来，快起来，孩子找到了！孩子找到了！”接着还能听见洋铁盆和号角的喧嚣声。人群自动集合起来，朝河那边走，去迎接那两个孩子。他俩坐在一辆敞篷的人拉着的马车上，周围的人群前呼后拥，再加上迎车的人，大家浩浩荡荡地涌上大街，欢呼声此起彼伏。
村子里这下灯火通明，没人还想着回去睡觉，这是他们度过的最壮观的一夜。起初的半小时里，村民们一个接一个地来到撒切尔法官家里，抱着两个孩子就亲，使劲地握住撒切尔太太的手，想说点什么，又说不出来——然后他们就涌了出去，泪水洒得满地都是。
波莉姨妈快活极了。撒切尔夫人也差不多，等到派往洞里报喜的人把这个消息告诉了她丈夫，他也会快活到极点。汤姆躺在沙发上，周围一群热心的听者听他讲述这次历险的故事，他不时地添油加醋大肆渲染一番。最后，他描述了他如何离开贝基独自一人去探险；怎样顺着两个通道一直走到风筝线够不着的地方；然后又是怎样顺着第三个通道往前走，把风筝线全放开，他刚要返回时却看见远处有个小亮点，看上去像是日光；于是他丢下绳子，朝小亮点处摸索过去，连头带肩一起伸出小洞，看见了那宽阔的密西西比河滚滚流过。如果当时是晚上，那他不会发现亮光，更不可能走这条通道。他还讲他是如何回去，把这个好消息告诉贝基，可她说不要拿这种胡扯来烦她，因为她已经够累的了。她知道她活不长了，也愿意死去。他描述了他费尽口舌去说服她，等她摸索到能看见蓝色天光的地方，她简直高兴死了；他是怎样挤到洞外，然后帮忙把她也拉出了洞，他俩怎样坐在那儿，高兴得大喊大叫；然后有几个人是如何乘小艇经过，汤姆招呼他们，并讲明自己的处境：已经断炊。那几个人起先如何不相信这荒唐的事，因为他们讲“你们呆的山洞在河下游五英里处”——然后把他俩弄上小艇，划到一座房子处，让他俩吃了晚饭，天黑后休息了两三个小时，才把他们带回家。
天亮之前，送信的人根据撒切尔法官和跟他一起的人留下的麻绳记号找到了他们，告诉了他们这个重大的消息。
很快汤姆和贝基明白了：由于呆在洞中三天三夜，又累又饥，身体还不可能一下子恢复过来。整个星期三和星期四，他们都卧床不起，好像是越睡越困，越休息越乏力。汤姆星期四稍微活动了一下，星期五就到镇上去了，到星期六几乎完全恢复了原样，可是贝基一直到星期天才出门，但看上去很瘦，好像害过一场大病似的。
汤姆听说哈克病了，星期五去看他，可是人家不让他进卧室，星期六和星期天也没能进去。之后天天都能进去，但不准他提历险的事情或谈什么使人激动的话题；道格拉斯寡妇呆在卧室里监督汤姆，防止他乱讲乱说。汤姆在家中听到了卡第夫山事件，还知道人们后来在渡口附近的河里发现了那个“衣衫褴褛”的人的尸体，他也许是想逃跑，结果却被淹死了。
汤姆从洞中获救后大约两周便去看哈克，这时哈克结实多了，不怕激动了。汤姆想他有些话会让哈克感兴趣。汤姆路过撒切尔法官家时，就去看了贝基，法官和几个朋友让汤姆打开话匣子，有个人半开玩笑地问汤姆还愿不愿意旧洞重游。汤姆说再去也没什么关系，法官就说：
“是啊，汤姆，我一点也不怀疑，还有你这样的人。但我们现在慎重了，再也不会有人在洞里迷路。”
“这是怎么回事呢？”
“因为两周前我已经用锅炉铁板把大门钉上了一层，上了三道锁——钥匙由我保管。”
汤姆脸色马上变得煞白。
“你怎么啦？孩子，喂，快去倒杯水来！”
有人取来水泼在汤姆的脸上。
“啊，你现在没事了，汤姆，你到底是怎么啦？”
“噢，对了，法官大人，印第安·乔还在洞里呐！”

《Chapter 31》
NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave -- wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's palace," and so on. presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said:
"Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others."
"Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them -- and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here."
Becky grew apprehensive.
"I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back."
"Yes, I reckon we better. p'raps we better."
"Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me."
"I reckon I could find it -- but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there."
"Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities.
They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily:
"Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!"
But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said:
"Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time."
"Listen!" said he.
profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter.
"Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky.
"It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again.
The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky -- he could not find his way back!
"Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!"
"Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No -- I can't find the way. It's all mixed up."
"Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!"
She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said.
So they moved on again -- aimlessly -- simply at random -- all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving -- not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure.
By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets -- yet he must economize.
By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit.
At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh -- but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it.
"Oh, how could! I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again."
"I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out."
"We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there."
"Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying."
They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this -- they could not tell how long -- Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water -- they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence:
"Tom, I am so hungry!"
Tom took something out of his pocket.
"Do you remember this?" said he.
Becky almost smiled.
"It's our wedding-cake, Tom."
"Yes -- I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got."
"I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake -- but it'll be our --"
She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said:
"Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?"
Becky's face paled, but she thought she could.
"Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!"
Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said:
"Tom!"
"Well, Becky?"
"They'll miss us and hunt for us!"
"Yes, they will! Certainly they will!"
"Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom."
"Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are."
"When would they miss us, Tom?"
"When they get back to the boat, I reckon."
"Tom, it might be dark then -- would they notice we hadn't come?"
"I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home."
A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also -- that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's.
The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then –the horror of utter darkness reigned!
How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now -- maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more.
The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire.
By-and-by Tom said:
"Sh! Did you hear that?"
Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer.
"It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky -- we're all right now!"
The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred -- there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again.
The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time.
Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to -- Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck."
But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die -- it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over.
Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom.

《第三十一章　得而复失》
现在再回过头来说说汤姆和贝基参加野餐的情况。他们跟伙伴们一起穿行在黑暗的通道里，游览那些熟悉的洞中奇观——人们给它们起了些过于夸张的名子，诸如什么“客厅”、“大教堂”、“阿拉丁宫殿”等等。在这之后，他们开始玩捉迷藏游戏，玩得极其投入，一直玩到都有点厌烦了为止；然后他俩高举蜡烛，顺着一条弯曲的小路往前逛，边走边念着用蜡烛烟油刻写在石壁上面的名字、年月、通讯地址和格言之类的东西。他俩仍然边走边谈着，不知不觉地来到了另一个山洞。这里的墙上没有刻写字迹。在一块突出的岩石上面，他俩熏上自己名字后继续往前走去。不久，他们来到一个地方，那里有股溪流从突出的岩层上流下来，水里有石灰石沉渣，经年累月形成了瀑布一般的景观。它四周好像嵌着边，起伏不平，水中的石头晶莹闪亮，永不消失。汤姆挤到后边，好让贝基借着他的灯光看个够。他发现后面狭缝中有条陡峭的天然台阶，汤姆一下心血来潮，要去继续探险。贝基听他的，于是俩人熏了个记号，作为以后引路标志，就开始了探险。他俩一时这边走，一时那边走，就这样蜿蜒着进了以前没有人到过的洞中最深处，作了个记号后，又沿着叉道走下去以便出去后有新鲜事儿好跟人说。在一处，他们发现一个宽敞的石窟，上面垂下来一些人腿大小的钟乳石，他们在里面转了一圈，惊叹不已，然后从其中的一个出口离开了。不久他们就到了一个美妙的泉水旁，水底下石头形似雪花状玲珑剔透，泉水位于石窟中间，四周石壁全由形状奇特的柱子撑着，这些石柱是大钟乳石和大石笋相连而构成的，是千万年来水滴不息的结果。石窟上聚集着成群结队的蝙蝠，每一群都有上千上万只。灯光一照，数以千计的蝙蝠飞下来，尖叫着向蜡烛猛扑过去。汤姆知道它们的习惯和危险性，他拉着她钻到最近的一个通道里。这一招做得真好，因为贝基往外走时，手里的蜡烛正巧被一只蝙蝠给扑灭了。蝙蝠把他俩追出老远的一段距离。两个逃亡者只要看到通道就往里钻，最后终于摆脱了险境，把它们抛在后面。不久汤姆发现了地下湖，它渐渐地伸展，最后消失在黑暗中，他打算沿着岸去探个究竟，可转而一想还是坐下来先歇一会为妙。这时，平生第一次两个孩子感到这寂静的山洞里好像有冰冷的魔掌攫取了他俩的灵魂。贝基说：
“对了，我倒没留意。不过好像很长时间都没听到别的同伴的声音了。”
“想想看，贝基，我们现在离他们很远，钻到洞下面来了。我也不知道向北还是向南、向东或是什么方向跑了多远，我们在这个地方听不见他们。”
贝基开始担心起来。
“我不知道我们呆在这里有多久了，汤姆，我们还是回去吧！”
“对，我也是这样想的，也许还是回去的好。”
“你认识路，汤姆？这里弯弯曲曲，乱七八糟。”
“我想我能认识路——可是那些蝙蝠很讨厌。要是它们把我俩的蜡烛扑灭，那就更糟了。我们不妨从别的路走，避开那个地方。”
“行是行，不过但愿别再迷了路。真是要命！”小姑娘一想到前途未卜，不禁打了个寒颤。
他们钻进一条长廊，不声不响地走了老远，边走边看新出口，看看跟进来时的是否一样。可是没一个出口是原来的。汤姆每次认真查看新洞口，贝基就望着他的脸看是否有希望的表情，汤姆则愉快地说：
“噢，没什么大不了的，这不是的，不过我们会找到出口。”可是一次又一次的失败使汤姆感到希望越来越渺茫，随后他干脆见到出口就钻，拼命希望能找到来时的那个出口，嘴上仍说着“没什么大不了的，”心情却十分沉重，连说出来的话都失去了响声，听上去好像是“没救了！”贝基极度痛苦地紧跟在汤姆身旁，竭力想止住眼泪，可是眼泪还是流出来。她终于说：
“对了，汤姆，别管那些蝙蝠吧，还回到那条路上去！看样子，我们越走越不对劲。”
汤姆停住脚步。
“听！”他说。
周围万籁俱寂，静得连他们的喘息声都能听见，汤姆放开喉咙大叫。叫声回荡在通道里，渐渐远去，直至最后隐约听上去像是阵阵笑声一样消失在通道深处。
“喂，汤姆，别喊了，听起来怪吓人的。”贝基说。
“是吓人，但我最好还是喊，贝基，说不准他们能听见我们。”说完他又大喊起来。“说不准”三个字比那阵阵笑声更可怕，它表明希望正在消失，两个孩子静静地站在那里听着，可什么也没听见。汤姆立即按原路返回，步伐很快。可没多久，他表现出举棋不定的样子。贝基感到十分害怕，汤姆居然连往回走的路也找不着了。
“喂，汤姆，你怎么什么记号也没做！”
“贝基，我真笨！一个大笨蛋！我根本没想到还会顺原路返回！是的，我们现在迷路了。真是糟糕透顶。”
“汤姆，汤姆，我们迷了路！找不着路了！永远也走不出这个鬼地方了！真是的，我们当时干吗不和别的伙伴一起走呢！”
说完，她一下子瘫在地上，大哭起来，这下子吓坏了汤姆，他以为她快要死了，要不然就是要发疯了。他坐在她旁边搂着她。她紧紧地挨着汤姆，脸贴在他怀里，一古脑地诉说她的恐惧，连后悔都来不及了，这声音传到远处变成了嘲笑，回荡在通道里。汤姆求她再打起精神来，可她说不能。于是汤姆开始了自责，骂自己不该把她弄到这种不幸的地步。这一骂倒有了好效果。她表示要努力抱定希望，只要汤姆不再说这种话，她愿意跟汤姆一起闯关，因为要说谁有错的话，她自己也不例外。
这样他俩又开始往前走，漫无目标地胡乱走——他们现在能做的就是往前走，不断地往前走。不久，希望又开始复苏——它没有什么理由，很简单，只是因为希望的源泉还没有因时间和失败而消失时，它自然而然地要复苏。
过了一会工夫，汤姆把贝基的蜡烛拿来吹灭，这种节约意味深长，言辞是多余的，不用多解释，贝基就明白了其中的含义，她的希望又破灭了。她知道汤姆口袋里还有一根整蜡烛和几个蜡烛头——但他必须节约着用。
又过了一会，疲乏开始袭上心头，可两个孩子尽力想置之不理，因为现在时间就是生命。他们连想坐下来休息一下都不敢想。只要往前走，往一个方向或者无论是往哪边走都算是前进，有可能会有结果；但千万不能坐下来，否则等于坐以待毙，好让死神降临得快些。
到后来，贝基柔弱的四肢再也支撑不住，她一步也走不动了。她坐在地上，汤姆也坐下来陪她休息。两人谈到家、那里的朋友、家里舒服的床铺，尤其是那灯光！贝基哭起来，汤姆想另换话题来安慰她，可是她已不止一次听到他这样鼓励，现在这些鼓励的话听起来倒像是在挖苦她。贝基实在疲乏极了，她昏昏欲睡，汤姆见此很高兴，他坐在那里盯着她看，只见她在甜蜜的睡梦中脸上的表情逐渐由绷紧状态变得舒展了，笑容也慢慢地露出来。那平静的脸庞给汤姆的心灵也带来了些慰籍。于是，他的心思转到了过去的时光和梦一般的回忆上去了，他陷入沉思时，贝基在一阵爽快的微笑中醒来，可是笑容突然中止，接着就是一阵呻吟声。
“唉，我怎么睡着了呢！要是一觉睡过去那该有多好啊！不！不！汤姆，我不是这么想的！不要这样看！我不说了。”
“贝基，你睡了一觉，这很好；你会觉得休息好了，我们会找到出去的路。”
“我们可以试试，汤姆。可我在梦中见到了一个美丽的国家，我想我们正是在去那儿的路上。”
“不一定，不一定。贝基，打起精神来！我们再去试它一试。”
他们站起身，手拉着手向前走去，可心里无数。他俩想合计出呆在洞里有多久了，可是他们只知道好像是过了许多天，有好几个星期，可是这不可能，因为蜡烛还没有用光。此后很长一段时间，他们都说不准在洞里到底呆了多久——汤姆说他们必须轻轻地走路，听听哪儿有滴水声——他们必须找到泉水处。不久他俩果真发现了一处泉水，汤姆又说这回该休息休息了。两人累得够呛，可是贝基却说她还能再走一会。汤姆不同意，这让贝基大吃一惊，不能理解。他们坐下来，汤姆用粘土把蜡烛粘在前面的石壁上。两人各想各的心思，谁也没说一句话。过了一段时间，还是贝基先开了口：
“汤姆，我很饿！”
汤姆从口袋里掏出点什么东西。
“还记得这个吗？”他问贝基。
她差点笑起来。
“是我俩的结婚喜糕啊，汤姆。”
“对了，现在就剩下这点东西了，它要是有方桶那么大就好了。”
“这还是我野餐时留下的，做个想头，汤姆，大人们的结婚喜糕不也是这样的吗？——不过这将是我俩的——”
她话只说了半截，汤姆就动手分喜糕。贝基大口大口地吃着，汤姆自己却一点一点、地尝着他那份。最后，他俩又饱饱地喝了一通凉水，结束了这顿“宴席”。这时贝基又开始建议继续往前走。汤姆先沉默了一会，然后说：
“贝基，如果我告诉你，你受得了吗？”
贝基的脸色发白，可她觉得她能受得了。
“是这样的，贝基，我们得呆在这里，这里有水喝，我们的蜡烛也只有这么一小截了！”
贝基放声大哭，汤姆尽全力来安慰她，可是一点用也没有。最后贝基说：
“汤姆！”
“我在这里，贝基，有什么要说的吗？”
“他们会想我俩，找我们的！”
“说得对，他们会的，一定会的！”
“说不定，现在正在找呢，汤姆。”
“当然喽，我想他们也许正在找，我希望如此。”
“汤姆，不知道他们什么时候会发现我们丢了？”
“大概是上船回去时吧。”
“汤姆，那可是天要黑的时候，他们会注意到我们没回去吗？”
“这，我就说不准了，不过他们一到家，你妈妈见不着你，一定会想你的。”
贝基的脸上露出害怕的神情，汤姆这才意识到他犯了个大错误。贝基说好那天晚上不回家。两个孩子沉默不语，各自思忖着，突然一阵悲痛袭上贝基心头，汤姆发现，他想的事情和她的一样——那就是星期天撒切尔夫人发现贝基不在哈帕夫人家时，已经是中午时分。孩子们眼睛盯着那截小蜡烛头，看着它一点一点、无情地烧掉，最后剩下半英寸长的烛心，那软弱的烛光忽高忽低，顺着细长的烟柱往上爬，爬到顶部徘徊了一会，接着恐怖的黑暗完全笼罩了一切。
也不知过了多久，贝基才慢慢意识到她趴在汤姆怀里哭。他俩只知道好像经过一段很长的时间后，两人从昏睡中醒来，再度一筹莫展。汤姆说现在可能是星期天，要么就是星期一。他尽力想让贝基说话，可是她十分悲伤，所有的希望全都泡了汤。汤姆说他们老早就走失了，毫无疑问，人们正在找他俩，他要叫喊，有许多人听见会来的。他叫了几声，可是黑暗中，回声听起来十分可怕，他只好停下来，不再叫喊。
时间一分一秒地逝去。现在饥饿又开始折磨这两个小家伙。汤姆拿出从他那份中留出来的一小块喜糕分给贝基吃，可是他们越吃越觉得饿得慌。那块小的可怜的喜糕反而激起了他们的食欲。
过了一会，汤姆说：
“嘘，你听见了吗？”
两人屏住呼吸静心听着，远处传来一阵模糊不清的喊叫声。汤姆立即搭上腔，拉着贝基的手，顺着声音传来的方向，摸索着进入通道里。他马上又听了听，声音又传过来，这次明显地近了。
“是他们！”汤姆说，“他们来了！快来贝基——我们现在有救了！”
两个被困在山洞里的“囚犯”高兴得几乎发狂。不过他俩走得很慢，因为脚下不时会碰到坑坑洼洼，必须小心点才行。说着说着，他们就碰到一个坑洼。他俩停下脚步。那坑大约有三英尺深，也许是一百英尺——不管怎么说是跨不过去的。汤姆趴在地上，尽量伸手去摸，可是根本摸不到坑底。他仍必须呆在这里，等待搜寻的人过来。他俩听着，很显然本来就很遥远的喊叫声，现在听起来更远了。一会工夫后，声音一点也听不到了。真是倒霉透顶！汤姆直喊得嗓子都哑了也无济于事。他充满希望地和贝基谈着，可过了一段令人焦虑的时刻后，再也没有听见那远去的喊叫声。孩子们摸索着重新回到泉水旁。时间慢慢地过去了，令人乏味。他们又睡了一觉，等醒来后饥肠辘辘，痛苦不堪，汤姆坚信今天一定是星期二。
汤姆突然想出个主意。附近有许多叉路口，与其在这里闲等着急人，不如去闯几条碰碰运气。他从口袋里掏出一根风筝线，把它系在一块突出的石头上，然后和贝基一起上了路。汤姆头里走，边走边放线。大约走出有二十步远，通道往下到了尽头。汤姆跪了下来，往下摸着，顺手摸到拐角处，他又使劲尽量往左边一点摸。这时，不到二十码的地方，有只手，拿着蜡烛，从石头后面出来了。汤姆大喝一声，那只手的主人——印第安·乔的身体立即露了出来。汤姆吓瘫了，他动弹不得。紧接着就见那西班牙人拔腿就跑，转眼就不见了，真是谢天谢地。汤姆在想乔没听出他是谁，否则会过来杀了他，以报他在法庭上作证之仇。山洞里的回音让人无法辨出谁是谁。毫无疑问这就是乔没能认出他的原因，汤姆这样合计着。汤姆被吓得浑身无力。他自言自语道，他要是还有气力回到泉水边，一定呆在那里，无论怎样，都不想再去冒险，碰上印第安·乔就完蛋了。他很谨慎，不想对贝基说出看到了什么。他讲他大喝一声只是为了碰碰运气。
可是从长远的角度来说害怕是次要的，主要的问题是饥饿和疲乏。他俩在泉水旁又度过了一个漫长而又乏味的夜晚，这给他俩带来了转机，孩子们醒来时，饥饿难忍。汤姆坚信日子到了星期三或是星期四，说不定是星期五、星期六都有可能，现在大伙们一定不再寻找他俩了，他提议重找一条出路。他现在觉得就是遇到印第安·乔和什么别的危险也不怕。问题是贝基虚弱得很。她陷入了麻木状态，唤不醒她的精神。她说她就原地呆着等待死亡——这不会太久。她对汤姆说，如果他愿意的话他自己可以顺着风筝线去找出路，但要求他时不时地回来好和她说说话，她还让他保证在最后时刻来临时，一定要守在她身旁，握着她的手，这样一直握下去。
汤姆吻了她，嗓子里却有种哽噎的感觉，表面上还装出信心十足的样子；别人一定会找来救他俩出洞。然后他手里拿着风筝线爬进一个通道。饥饿令他沮丧，尤其是一想到死到临头更令他感到悲伤。

《Chapter 30》
AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window:
"Who's there!"
Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone:
"please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!"
"It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad! -- and welcome!"
These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves.
"Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too -- make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night."
"I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead."
"Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it -- but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad -- we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them -- dark as a cellar that sumach path was -- and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use -- 'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals -- 'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?"
"Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them."
"Splendid! Describe them -- describe them, my boy!"
"One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged --"
"That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff -- get your breakfast to-morrow morning!"
The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed:
"Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!"
"All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did."
"Oh no, no! please don't tell!"
When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said:
"They won't tell -- and I won't. But why don't you want it known?"
Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world -- he would be killed for knowing it, sure.
The old man promised secrecy once more, and said:
"How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?"
Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said:
"Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot, -- least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it -- and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil."
"Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?"
This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said:
"Well, I don't know -- but somehow it seems as if I did."
"Then they went on, and you --"
"Follered 'em -- yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up -- they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two --"
"What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!"
Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. presently the Welshman said:
"My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No -- I'd protect you -- I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me -- tell me what it is, and trust me -- I won't betray you."
Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear:
"'Tain't a Spaniard -- it's Injun Joe!"
The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said:
"It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether."
During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of --
"Of WHAT?"
If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended -- waiting for the answer. The Welshman started -- stared in return –three seconds -- five seconds -- ten -- then replied:
"Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?"
Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously -- and presently said:
"Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?"
Huck was in a close place -- the inquiring eye was upon him -- he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer -- nothing suggested itself -- the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper -- a senseless reply offered -- there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it -- feebly:
"Sunday-school books, maybe."
poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added:
"poor old chap, you're white and jaded -- you ain't well a bit -- no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope."
Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however -- he had not known that it wasn't -- and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption.
Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill -- to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken.
"Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him."
Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter -- but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said:
"I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?"
"We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again -- they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back."
More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more.
There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said:
"Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death."
"Your Becky?"
"Yes," with a startled look -- "didn't she stay with you last night?"
"Why, no."
Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt polly said:
"Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night -- one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him."
Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever.
"He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt polly's face.
"Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?"
"No'm."
"When did you see him last?"
Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt polly fell to crying and wringing her hands.
The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave.
All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles -- and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer.
The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said:
"You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands."
Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle -- and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light.
Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked -- dimly dreading the worst -- if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill.
"Yes," said the widow.
Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed:
"What? What was it?"
"Liquor! -- and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child -- what a turn you did give me!"
"Only tell me just one thing -- only just one -- please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?"
The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must not talk. You are very, very sick!"
Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever -- gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry.
These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself:
"There -- he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching."

《第三十章　汤姆和贝基山洞被困》
星期天早上天刚刚有点蒙蒙亮，哈克就摸上山，轻轻地敲着老威尔斯曼家的门。里面的人还在睡觉，可是由于夜里那桩惊人的事情，大家变得十分警惕，窗户里传出了一句问话：
“是谁呀？”
哈克有点惊魂未定低声答道：
“请让我进去吧！是哈克·费恩呀！”
“哦，是你呀，只要你来，白天、黑夜都欢迎你！”
这个流浪儿以前从没听过这样的话，这也是他有生以来听到的最快乐的话。他想不起来以前有没有人对他说过“欢迎”一词。门锁很快打开了，他走了进去。主人让哈克坐下，老人和两个大高个孩子很快穿好衣服。
“喂，好家伙，我想你一定饿极了。太阳一出来，早饭就好了，咱们可以吃上一顿热气腾腾的饭，你尽管放心吧！我和孩子们指望你昨晚到我的家来过夜呢。”
“我吓得不得了，”哈克说，“我跑了，一听见熗响我就跑了。一口气跑出去有三英里。你瞧，我回来是想问问情况，乘天没大亮来是怕碰上那两个鬼东西，死也不愿碰上。”
“嗯，可怜虫，看上去昨晚的事情确实让你受了不少苦——吃完早饭后，这里有张床铺，你可以睡上一觉。那两个家伙还没死，孩子，真不随人愿。你瞧，我们照你说的，知道该在什么地方对他们下手，所以我们踮着脚走到离他们只有十五英尺的地方——可那绿树丛黑的像个地窟——而这时我觉得要打喷嚏，真是倒霉透了！我想憋住，可不管事，结果打了个喷嚏！我是端着熗走在头里的，我惊动了那两个坏蛋，他们沙沙地钻出小路往外走，我大声说，‘孩子们，开火！’
对着沙沙声的地方就放了一阵子熗，孩子们也开了熗，可那两个恶棍却溜了，我们穿过树林一直追过去，我想我们根本没打着他们。他们跑的时候也都放了熗，子弹从我们身边嗖嗖地飞过去却没有伤着我们。他们跑远了，我们就没有再追上去，只是下山去叫醒了警官。他们调集了一队人马，部署在河岸上，担任守卫工作。等天亮后，警长还亲自带一帮人到森林去搜查。我的两个儿子也要跟他们一起去搜查。我很想知道那两个家伙是什么模样，这样搜查起来要好办些。可是孩子，我想晚上天黑你也没看清他们长相，对吗？”
“不，我在镇上见过他俩，还跟踪过他们。”
“太棒了！说说看——孩子——说出他们的特征来！”
“一个是又聋又哑的西班牙人，有一两次他来过这里，另外一个长相难看，衣衫褴褛——”
“孩子，这就够了，我们认识那两个家伙。有一次在寡妇家后面的树林中碰到过，他们却偷偷溜掉了。快去吧，孩子们，去告诉警长——明天早晨再吃早饭吧！”
威尔斯曼的两个孩子立即动身出发。他们走出屋子时，哈克跳起来，大声说道：
“喂，请你们千万别对任何人讲是我走漏的风声！啊，千万千万不要说是我！”
“好，你不让说，就不说，可你总该让人家知道你的功劳呀！”
“不不不，请不要讲！”
两个年青人走后，威尔斯曼老人说：
“他们不会说出去，我也不会的。可你为什么不愿让人知道呢？”
哈克没别的理由，他只是说他认识其中一人，不想让那人知道是他本人在和他作对，否则肯定要送命的。
老人再次表示要替他保守秘密，说道：
“孩子，你怎么会盯梢他俩呢？是不是他们可疑？”
哈克没作声，心里却在精心编造，好回答他提出的问题。
他说：
“您瞧，我是个无可救药的坏家伙，至少大伙是这么说我的，我也不觉得委屈——有时为了想这个问题，好改一改自己，结果弄得睡也睡不着，昨天晚上就是这样。我睡不着，大约午夜时来到街上，想着这件事，后来走到禁酒的客栈旁那个老砖厂时，我就靠在墙上又在想这桩事情。嘿，真巧这时那两个家伙悄悄从我身边溜过，腋下夹着东西，我想一定是偷来的。一个家伙抽着烟，另外一个要接火。他俩就停在我前边不远，雪茄烟的火光照亮了他们的脸。借着火光，我认出了那个长白胡子、眼睛上戴着眼罩的家伙是又聋又哑的西班牙人，另外一个家伙，有点迂腐，衣衫褴褛。”
“雪茄的火光能让你看清他衣衫褴褛吗？”
这一问倒一下子难住了哈克。过了片刻后，他又说：
“嗯，这不太清楚——不过我好像是看清了。”
“然后他们继续往前走，而你——”
“对，跟在他们后面，是这样的，我想知道他们要干什么坏事——他们那样偷偷摸摸的，实在有点不对劲。我一直跟到寡妇家院子的阶梯那里，站在黑暗里听见一个人在替寡妇求饶，可那西班牙佬发誓破她的相，就像我告诉您和您那两个……”
“什么，这些是那个又聋又哑的西班牙人说的！”
哈克又犯了一个大错误！他一直不想让老人知道——哪怕是一点点——西班牙人的情况，尽管他十分小心，可那张舌头就是不听话，似乎有意给他添麻烦，他几次都想摆脱窘境，可老人盯着他，结果弄得他一次又一次露了马脚。随后老人说：
“孩子，别怕我。我不会伤害你一根头毛。相反我要保护你。这个西班牙人既不聋也不哑，你无意中说了出来，现在瞒也来不及了。你了解那个西班牙人的一些情况，你想隐瞒？相信我——告诉我吧！请相信我——我不会翻脸不认人的。”
哈克看了看老人那双真诚的眼睛，过了片刻弯过身去，对着老人低声耳语道：
“那不是西班牙人，是印第安·乔啊！”
威尔斯曼听后差点从椅子上跳起来，片刻后他说：
“现在事情全明白了。你当时说什么撕开鼻子，把耳朵弄个缺口之类的事情，我当时还以为是你自己故意编出来的，白人们报仇不会这样做的。可这事是涉及到印第安·乔，那就完全不同了。”
吃早饭时，他俩继续谈论那事，谈话中老人说上床睡觉前，他和儿子们做的第一件事情是提着灯到阶梯附近看看有没有血迹，结果血迹没看见，倒找到了一大捆子——。
“一捆什么？”
这几个字，就像闪电一般快地从哈克嘴中突然脱口而出，他显得很吃惊，嘴唇发白。他眼睛瞪得溜溜圆，张着口在等回答。威尔斯曼吃了一惊——瞪着哈克——三秒——五秒——十秒——然后答道：
“是强盗作案工具。唉，你怎么了？”
哈克一下子放松下来，微微喘着气，有一种说不出的如释重负感，威尔斯曼严肃地看着他，显得迷惑不解，然后接着说：
“是啊，那是捆强盗作案的工具。你好像放心多了。可你刚才怎么突然变了色！你以为我们找到了什么？”
哈克被逼问得够呛——老人用质疑的眼光盯着他——他真愿用一切来换一个似乎能站住脚的答复——可就是想不出来怎么说好——质疑的眼睛盯得他入骨三分——他不知不觉地想出了理由——这由不得他再三斟酌。于是，他硬着头皮，捏着嗓子说：
“主日学校用的教材，也许是的。”
可怜的哈克显得十分难过的样子，不苟言笑，可老人却开怀大笑，笑得浑身上下直发抖。最后，他还说这种大笑就等于到手的钱，因为笑口常开无病无灾。他接着补充道：
“可怜的小伙子，你脸色发白，气色不正，怪不得，你有点发飘，站不稳。不过会好起来的，我想你只要休息休息，睡睡觉，就好了。”
哈克一想到自己是只笨鹅，激动得差点露出马脚，他不免有些懊恼。自他在寡妇家的阶梯处听到那两个家伙说话后，就不再认为从客栈中拿出来的包裹里有财宝。不过这只是他的猜想，可他并不晓得——里面确实没有财宝——结果在老人提及一捆东西时，他就沉不住气了。不管怎么说，他还是挺高兴的，至少他现在知道“这捆”毫无疑问不是他要的“那捆”，这下他心里十分高兴，舒服极了。实际情况也都在朝他希望的方向发展。那财宝一定还在二号里，那两个家伙当天会被捉住，关到牢里去，而他和汤姆晚上会不费吹灰之力，就弄到那些金子，根本用不着担心会有人来打搅。
早饭刚吃完，就有人来敲门。哈克跳起来找藏身的地方。他不想让任何别的人把他和最近发生的事情联系起来。威尔斯曼让几个女士和绅士进了门，道格拉斯寡妇也来了。老人还看见有一群人正在往山上爬——以便好看清楚那阶梯，原来人们已经知道这事了。
老人只好把晚上发生过的情况向在坐的人讲了一遍。寡妇因免遭迫害，也痛痛快快地把她的感激之情说了出来。“夫人，别提这事了，还有一个人比我和孩子们做得更多，更值得你感谢。不过他有言在先，不让我说出他的名子，要不是他，我们不会到你那里去。”
大家的好奇心一下子转到了这方面，但老人守口如瓶，只让大家牢牢地记住这事，再由他们传遍全城，可就不说出这人是谁。寡妇知道了一切后说：
“我上床睡觉，在床上看书，外面吵吵闹闹我却睡着了。你们怎么不来把我叫醒？”
“我们觉得没那必要，那些家伙不可能再回来，——他们没了作案工具。叫醒你，把你吓个半死又何必呢？后来我派了三个家奴守着你的房子，一直守到天亮。他们刚才回来。”来的人越来越多，老人一遍又一遍地对大家讲晚上发生的事情，花了有两个多小时才算结束。
走读学校放假，主日学校也不上课，可是去教堂的人却很早就到了。那桩惊人的事情已经是满城风雨。有消息说，那两个坏蛋现在连影子都见不着。做完布道，法官撒切尔的夫人同哈泼夫人一道随着人群顺着过道往外走，边走边说：
“我那贝基难道要睡一整天不成？我料到她累得要命。”
“你的贝基？”
“对呀，”法官太太看上去很吃惊，“昨晚她不是和你住在一起的吗？”
“和我住的，不，没有。”
撒切尔太太脸色发白，瘫坐在一把椅子上。这时波莉姨妈从她身旁走过，愉快地边走边和朋友聊着。
波莉姨妈说：
“早晨好，撒切尔太太，早晨好，哈帕太太，我家那个鬼小子人不见了。我想我那个汤姆昨晚住在你们家中——不知是在你们哪一家。他现在不敢来教堂做礼拜。我得和他算帐。”
“他没在我们这儿住过。”哈帕说着，看上去显得有些不安，波莉姨妈脸上明显地露出了焦虑的神色。
“乔·哈帕，你早上看到我家汤姆了吗？”
“没有，大婶。”
“什么时候你最后见过他？”
乔竭力在想，可说不准。往教堂外走的人现在都停下了脚步。到处窃窃私语，人人脸上露出不祥的焦虑。大人们迫不及待地询问孩子们和老师们。他们都不敢肯定汤姆和贝基是否上了回程的船；当时天黑，没人想到问一问人是否全到齐了。有个年青人突然说他们仍在山洞里，撒切尔夫人当即晕了过去，波莉姨妈捶胸顿足地放声大哭。
这个惊人的消息一传十，十传百，弄得大街小巷家喻户晓，不到五分钟的工夫，大钟疯了似地噹噹直响，全镇的人都行动起来。卡第夫山事件随即显得没有多大意义，盗贼的事也摆到了一边去。大家套上马鞍，给小船配好划手，叫渡船出发，不到半个时辰，全镇就有二百多个人潮水般顺着公路和河流向山洞涌去。
那天下午，林子里好像什么也没有，一片沉寂。许多妇女去看波莉姨妈和撒切尔夫人，想安慰她俩，结果大家一齐骂个不停，这要比安慰人的话更顶用。这一夜全镇显得十分沉闷，大家都在等消息；但当黎明最后来临时，所有的消息都是一句话：“再送些蜡烛去——送些吃的。”
撒切尔夫人几乎神经失常，还有波莉姨妈也是。撒切尔法官从洞中派人传来令人鼓舞的好消息，可这一点也不能引起大家的兴致。天快亮时老威尔斯曼回了家，他浑身滴满蜡烛油，蹭满泥土，差点累得精疲力竭。他看见哈克仍睡在那张床上，烧得昏过去。医生们都去了山洞，因此道格拉斯寡妇来负责照看他。她说她对他一定会尽全力，哈克是好孩子还是坏孩子，或者不好不坏，那是另一回事，但他属于上帝，上帝的任何东西都应该受到重视。威尔斯曼说哈克有优点，寡妇说：
“的确如此，那就是上帝给他留下的记号，上帝从没有放弃给人留下良好的记号，凡经他手的人，都有良好记号。”
还没到下午，三三两两的人拖着疲惫的身体回到林里，那些身强力壮的人还在山洞里搜索。传来的消息只是说以前山洞里没人去过的地方，现在大家都在搜，就连一个角落，一处裂隙都要彻底地过一遍，错综复杂的迷宫中人们钻来钻去，老远就能看见到处灯光摇曳，喊声、熗声回荡在阴森可怖的通道里。有个地方，一般游客很少去，人们发现贝基和汤姆的名字用蜡烛烟熏在石壁上，不远处还有一截油乎乎的发带，撒切尔夫人认出这是贝基的东西，痛哭流涕。她说这是她女儿留给她的最后一点遗物，再也没有什么别的想头比这更宝贵，因为当那可怕的死亡降临时，这件东西最后离开她的孩子。有人说洞里远处的地方不时有微光闪动，然后就是大喊大叫声，接着一二十个男人排着队钻进声音荡漾的通道——结果照例是空欢喜一场，孩子并不在那里，亮光原来来自搜寻人的灯光。
漫长的三天三夜过去了，令人焦虑，令人乏味，全村陷入绝望，茫然不知所措。没有心情干别的事，就连碰巧发现禁酒客栈老板私自藏酒这样令人震惊的事情，众人们几乎都没劲头。哈克清醒的时候，断断续续地把话题扯到客栈上，最后问道——心里隐约觉得会有最坏的事情——他发病期间，在禁酒客栈里是否找到了什么。
“没错，是找到了点东西。”寡妇道。
哈克一下子从床上吃惊地坐起来，眼睛睁得溜圆。
“是什么？找到了什么东西？”
“是酒啊！——现在客栈被查封了。躺下来，孩子——你确实吓了我一大跳呀！”
“就告诉我一桩事——就一桩事，求您了！那是汤姆·索亚发现的吗？”
寡妇突然哭起来。“安静点，安静点，孩子，安静点！我早就跟你说过了，不要讲话，你现在病得很厉害，很虚弱！”
除酒之外，没发现别的东西。如果找到的是黄金的话，大家准会大谈特谈。足见那财宝是永远找不到了——永远找不到了！可是她为什么会哭呢？她居然哭，真是不可思议。
哈克迷迷糊糊地想着这些问题，感到十分疲倦，就睡着了。寡妇自言自语道：
“唉，他终于睡了，可怜的孩子。是汤姆·索亚找到的！可遗憾的是没人能找到汤姆·索亚！更糟的是没有几个人还抱有希望或有力气去继续寻找他。”

《Chapter 29》
THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news -- Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their schoolmates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night.
Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferry-boat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was:
"You'll not get back till late. perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child."
"Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma."
"Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble."
presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky:
"Say -- I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day -- dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us."
"Oh, that will be fun!"
Then Becky reflected a moment and said:
"But what will mamma say?"
"How'll she ever know?"
The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly:
"I reckon it's wrong -- but --"
"But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!"
The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned -- the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day.
Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted:
"Who's ready for the cave?"
Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside -- an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand -- for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same -- labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one.
The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground.
By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft.
Huck was already upon his watch when the ferry-boat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf -- and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in?
A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd -- the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible.
They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill -- ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find.
Now there was a voice -- a very low voice -- Injun Joe's:
"Damn her, maybe she's got company -- there's lights, late as it is."
"I can't see any."
This was that stranger's voice -- the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart -- this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare -- they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next -- which was --
"Because the bush is in your way. Now -- this way -- now you see, don't you?"
"Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up."
"Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag -- you may have it. But her husband was rough on me -- many times he was rough on me -- and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me horsewhipped! -- horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger! -- with all the town looking on! horsewhipped! -- do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of her."
"Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!"
"Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill him if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her -- bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils -- you notch her ears like a sow!"
"By God, that's --"
"Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing -- for my sake -- that's why you're here -- I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her -- and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business."
"Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better -- I'm all in a shiver."
"Do it now? And company there? Look here -- I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No -- we'll wait till the lights are out -- there's no hurry."
Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue -- a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and -- a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound -- the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes -- turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship -- and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows.
"What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?"
"Let me in -- quick! I'll tell everything."
"Why, who are you?"
"Huckleberry Finn -- quick, let me in!"
"Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble."
"please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "please don't -- I'd be killed, sure -- but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell -- I will tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me."
"By George, he has got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad."
Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry.
Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.

《第二十九章　哈克静心守夜，寡妇幸免遭难》
早期五早晨，汤姆听到的第一件事情是条好消息：撒切尔法官一家前天晚上又回到了城里。现在印第安·乔和那份财宝变得次要了，贝基吸引了这孩子的全部兴趣。他见到了她，俩人一起和一群同学捉迷藏，玩“守沟”游戏，痛快极了。这一天大家玩得特别痛快，另外还有一件事情特别令人愉快：贝基缠着她妈妈，要她答应第二天去野餐，因为她老早答应过的，可一直到现在都没有兑现。母亲同意了。孩子的欢乐无止无境，汤姆也大致如此，太阳没落山，请帖就送了出去，村里的年青人立即忙活起来，准备着，激动地等待着这一时刻的到来。汤姆也激动得很晚才睡着，他怀着极大的希望等着听哈克的“猫”叫，好在第二天野餐时拿出财宝给贝基和参加野餐的人一个惊喜，可他的如意算盘落了空，令他失望的是那天晚上根本没有任何“猫”叫声传来。早晨到了，１０点、１１点左右撒切尔法官家门口聚集了一群颠颠狂狂、闹闹哄哄的孩子们，全都准备好了就等出发。大人们照例不参加这样的野餐以免扫兴。因为有几个１８岁的姑娘和２３岁左右的小伙子加盟，所以孩子们在一起野餐不会出事的。这次他们租了那只老蒸汽渡船，随后欢乐的人群带着盛满吃的东西的篮子排着队走上大街。希德生病，没法和大家联欢，玛丽留在家中陪他玩。撒切尔夫人临走时最后对贝基说：
“孩子，要是很晚才回来，你不如到离码头很近的女孩家去住。”
“妈妈，那我就到苏珊·哈帕家去住。”
“行，到人家注意点，别调皮啊！”
他们走了，路上汤姆对贝基说：
“喂，告诉你，不要去乔·哈帕家，我们直接去爬山，到道格拉斯寡妇家歇脚。她有冰淇淋，几乎每天吃——多得不得了，我们去，她一准喜欢得要命。”
“噢，太有趣了！”
贝基又想了片刻后说：
“可不知妈妈会怎么想？”
“她不会知道的。”
她想了想，不情愿地说：
“我看这不好，不过……”
“不过个狗屁！你妈妈怎么知道？不会有事的。她只希望你平安无事，我敢打赌要是她想到这地方，一定早答应让你去了，我知道她会的！”
道格拉斯寡妇十分好客，弄得孩子们非常想去，再加上汤姆的巧言，事情终于这么定下来：他们不向任何人透露有关晚上的行动计划。汤姆又忽然想到哈克在今晚说不定会来，发出信号。想到这，他的劲头消了不少。更让他受不了的是放弃到道格拉斯寡妇家中去玩。为什么不去呢？他合计着——前天晚上没有信号，那么今晚怎么就偏偏可能有信号呢？财宝远在天边，而晚上的玩耍近在眼前。因此他决定大玩一场，等以后再抽时间去想宝箱的事情。
在离村镇三英里的地方，渡船在树木丛生的山谷口靠岸停泊。他们一窝蜂地涌上岸，不久树林中，高崖处到处都回荡着孩子们的欢歌笑语，什么能让他们汗流浃背，精疲力尽，他们就玩什么。渐渐地，那些乱跑的小家伙回到营地，味口大增，见到好吃的东西就饱餐一顿。饭后，他们在橡树荫下休息，边谈话边恢复体力，后来有人大喊：
“谁打算到洞里去玩？”
大家都准备去。一捆捆蜡烛拿了出来，大家立即欢快地开始爬山。洞口在山坡上——形状像大写的字母Ａ。巨大的橡木门没上门闩，里边有个小室，寒气逼人，四周是天然的石灰岩墙壁，上面水珠晶莹透亮。站在这黑暗的地方，看着阳光下绿莹莹的山谷真是既浪漫，又神秘。很快大家忘却这里的美景，又嘻闹起来，蜡烛一点亮，有些人扑上去就抢走，随后就是一阵英勇的你争我夺的自卫反击战，要不了多久蜡烛要么被打翻，要么就被吹灭，接着大家发出一阵哄笑，又开始新的追逐。可是凡事都有个完，随后大家一个接一个顺着主要通道的陡坡往下走，那一排烛光照得高耸的石壁模模糊糊，烛光几乎能达到头顶上六十英尺两壁相连的地方。这条主通道宽不过八到十英尺，每隔几步两旁就有高耸而又狭窄的通口叉出去，——因为麦克道格拉斯山洞是个通道交错的大迷宫，不知通往何处，有人说你在这错综复杂的裂口和崖缝中一连走上几昼夜都找不到山洞的尽头；你尽可以一直往下走，往深处里去，大迷宫套小迷宫，一个也走不到头。没有人真正熟悉这个山洞。要熟悉它是不可能的事情。大多数年青人都知道一点，但习惯上没人敢再往里边多跑一点，汤姆·索亚和别的人一样也不过只知道一点而已。
他们一行人沿主通道大约走了四分之三英里，然后三三两两、成群结伴钻进了叉道，奔跑在阴森的长廊里，在拐弯的地方时常彼此相互偷袭。小队的人可以互相闪避，半个小时内不会迷路。
渐渐地，一组组的人零星地回到洞口，喘着气，乐滋滋的，从头到脚，都是蜡烛油，身上蹭满了泥土，完全沉浸在一天的快乐之中，这时他们吃惊地发现光顾着玩，没注意时间，天马上就要黑了。钟已噹噹地敲了半个小时，这样结束一天的探险活动很浪漫，因此大家很满意。当渡船载着兴高采烈的游客启锚时，除船老大外，没人有浪费时间的感觉。
渡船的灯光一摇一闪从码头边经过时，哈克已经开始守夜了。他没听见船上有什么声音，那群年青人现在不声不响，好像累得要命。哈克不知道这是条什么船，随后他不再想船的事，专心致志于守夜。晚上起了云，天色越来越暗，１０点时，车辆的声音停止了，四处的灯火开始熄灭，行人也都散尽，整个村庄进入了梦乡，只有这个小家伙，独自一人空守寂寞，与魔鬼作伴。１１点钟，客栈也熄了灯，现在到处一片漆黑。哈克等了很长一段时间，等得乏人，可仍无动静，他开始动摇了，还守在这里有什么用呢？真有用吗？不如回去睡觉算了。
突然他听到了动静。他立即全神贯注地听着，小巷的门轻轻关上。他连跑带跳来到砖厂拐弯的地方，这时两个男人从他身边一掠而过，其中一人腋下挟着件东西，一定是宝箱！他们是在转移财宝啊！现在不能叫汤姆，否则太傻了，那两个人会逃跑。一旦跑了再也不要指望能找到他们。对，他要盯着他俩，跟在后边走，靠夜色来掩护自己。哈克心里边合计着，边光着脚溜出去，像猫似的跟在那两人后头，离得不远不近，始终保持着能看见他们就行了。
他们顺着沿河的街道走了三个街区后，向左转上了十字街，然后径直往前来到通向卡第夫山的那条小路。他们又上了这条路，经过半山腰的威尔斯曼的老房子，仍一直往上爬。好吧，哈克心里想，他们会把宝箱埋在石坑里。可那两个人却经过老石坑，爬上了山顶他们一头钻进了茂密的漆树之间的一条小路，一下子就消失在黑暗中。哈克靠上去缩短了距离，因为那两人现在绝不会看见他。他小跑一阵，担心跑得太快；然后又放慢脚步，他向前走了一段路后，就停下来，听一听，没声音；除他呼呼的心跳声音外，什么也听不到。山那边传来猫头鹰的叫声——不祥的声音！可是却没有脚步声。老天啊，什么都不见了！他正想拔脚去追，这时不到四英尺的地方，有个男人在清嗓子。哈克的心一下子跳到嗓子眼，他强忍着，站在那里好像打摆子似的直抖，直抖得要摔倒在地上。他知道他在什么地方。现在他在离道格拉斯寡妇家庭院的阶梯口不到五步远的地方。这很好，就让他们在这里埋宝吧，这里找起来不难。
一个声音传来，很低很低，是印第安·乔的声音：
“他妈的，她家里也许有人——这么晚还亮着灯。”
“我看不到有什么灯亮。”
这是那个陌生人的声音——那个闹鬼的房子里的陌生人。哈克的心一阵冰凉——那么这就是复仇！他这时的念头就是一溜烟地逃掉，他突然想起道格拉斯寡妇不止一次地待他很好，这两个家伙说不定想谋害她呢？他真希望自己有胆量去向她报个信，可他晓得他不敢那样做，因为那两个家伙可能会来把他逮住。这一切都在他脑子里飞逝即过，一切都发生在那陌生人和印第安·乔谈话的间隙。接着乔说：
“树丛挡住了你的视线，往这边看——这下该看见灯光了吧，对不对？”
“是的，看见了。我觉得确实有外人在那里，最好别干了吧。”
“别干了，那怎么行，再说我就要离开这个国家，一去不回头，如果放弃这次行动，下次连机会都没有了，我再说一遍，以前已经跟你说过了，我根本不希罕她那几个小钱，你把钱拿去得了。可她丈夫对我太刻薄了——他多次是那样凶我——就因为他是治安官，说我是流氓，还不止这些，我说的还不到他对我干的一百万分之一多。他让人用马鞭抽我，像打黑人那样，就在监狱的前面抽我，让我在全镇人面前示众！挨马鞭抽，你懂吗？他死了，倒便宜了他，不过他欠我的我一定要从他女人这里得回来。”
“啊，可别杀死她！别那么干！”
“杀人！谁说过要杀人？要是他在，我真要杀了他，可不是弄死她。想报复女人，用不着要她的命——那太蠢了，你只要毁她的容就行，你扯开她的鼻孔，把耳朵弄个裂口，让她看上去像个猪。”
“天哪，那可是……”
“收起你的高见！这样对你最保险。我把她绑在床上，如果她因流血过多而一命呜呼，那能怪我吗？就是她死了，我也不会落泪的。老兄，这事你得帮我——看在我的面子上——叫你来就是干这个——我一个人也许干不了。你要是缩头不干，我就宰了你，明白吗？要是非宰你不可，那我也要治死那个女人——这样一来，我想决不会有人知道这事是什么人干的。”
“好，该杀就杀吧，这就去干。越快越好，我浑身发抖。”
“现在下手？还有外人在也不怕？听着，你有点可疑，现在不行。得等里边的灯灭了才能动手——用不着这样急。”
哈克觉得随后会有一阵沉默，这种沉默要比任何口头上说说杀人还要可怕。因此他屏住呼吸，小心翼翼往后退。他每退一步，靠单腿用力，身子先往一边倾，然后又倾向另一边，有时差点栽倒，然后小心地站稳脚跟，接着以同样的方式，冒同样的危险再挪另一只脚，就这样左右轮换着往后退——突然一根小树枝啪地一声被踩断！他憋住气，听了听。没有异样的响声——只有绝对的安静。他感到谢天谢地，现在他退回到两堵墙似的绿树之间的小道上，转身时非常小心，好像是一艘船在调头——然后步伐敏捷而又谨慎地往回走去。到了石坑那边，他觉得安全了，拔腿就跑，一路飞奔。一直跑到威尔斯曼家门口才停下来。他怦怦地敲门，接着老人和他那两个健壮的儿子从窗户里探出头。
“怎么搞的？是谁在敲门？你想干什么？”
“开门让我进去——快点！我会全告诉你们。”
“嗯？你是谁？”
“哈克贝利·费恩——快点，让我进去！”
“确实是哈克贝利·费恩，不过，冲你这名字，不会有很多人家愿意开门。孩子们，我们快开门让他进来，看是什么麻烦的事情。”
“请别告诉别人说是我讲的，”哈克进门就说，“请您务必保密，否则人家一定会要我的命。那寡妇有时对我很好，我一定要讲出来，也愿意讲出来，您可千万不要对人说是我讲的。”
“哎呀，他确实有事情要讲，否则不会这样的！”老人大声说，“孩子，说出来吧，这儿没人会讲出去的。”
三分钟后，老人和他的儿子带好武器上了山。他们手里拿着武器，踮着脚进入了绿树成荫的那条小路。哈克跟他们只走到这里，就没再往前去。他躲在一块大圆石后面，静静地听着。经过一阵沉默，哈克等急了，突然传来爆炸声和喊声。
哈克不等了解详情，跳起来拼命地冲下山坡。

《Chapter 28》
THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve.
Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder.
Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern -- it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!"
He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughterhouse at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said:
"Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, great Caesar's ghost!"
"What! -- what'd you see, Tom?"
"Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!"
"No!"
"Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out."
"Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?"
"No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!"
"I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!"
"Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it."
"Say, Tom, did you see that box?"
"Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?"
"How?"
"Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?"
"Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk."
"It is, that! You try it!"
Huck shuddered.
"Well, no -- I reckon not."
"And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it."
There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said:
"Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning."
"Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job."
"All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow -- and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me."
"Agreed, and good as wheat!"
"Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?"
"I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night."
"That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?"
"In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat with him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing."
"Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow."

《第二十八章　巢穴追踪，汤姆发现新线索》
那天晚上汤姆和哈克作好准备去冒一次险。他俩在客栈周围转悠到９点后才开始行动。一个在老远处注视着小巷子，另外一个看客栈的门。巷子里没人来往，进出客栈的人，没有那个西班牙人的影子。晚上好像不太黑。汤姆回家前和哈克约定，如果夜色不错，哈克就出来学猫叫，汤姆听到后就溜出去用钥匙试开门。可是那晚天色明亮，哈克１２点左右结束望风，到空糖桶睡觉去了。
星期二，两个孩子遭了同样的歹运，星期三也是如此。到星期四晚上，天气有起色。汤姆提着姨妈那只洋铁旧灯笼，拿了一条遮灯光的大毛巾，乘机溜出去。他把灯笼藏在哈克的糖桶里，开始望风。午夜前一小时，客栈关了门，连那仅有的灯光也熄灭了。西班牙人没露面，巷子里也没人走动，一切平安无事。夜色深深，万籁俱静，远处偶尔传来一两声雷声。
汤姆拿起灯笼，在糖桶里点亮后用毛巾将它紧紧围住。夜幕中两个探险者蹑手蹑脚朝客栈走去。哈克放哨，汤姆摸着进了巷子。好一阵工夫，哈克焦急地等待着，心头好像压着座大山那样沉重。他希望能看到灯笼闪一下光，这虽然让他害怕，但它至少说明他还活着。汤姆好像走了有好几个小时似的。他一定是昏过去了，要么就是死了，或许因害怕和兴奋，心脏炸裂了。不安中，哈克已不知不觉地接近那条小巷，心里诚惶诚恐，时刻准备着意外不测的降临，一下子把他吓得憋过气去。事实上他已没有多少气了，他现在只能一点一点呼吸，这样下去不久就会心力衰竭。突然灯光一闪，只见汤姆狂奔着从他身边跑过。
“快逃！”他说，“快逃命！”
他不必再重说，一遍就够了，还没等汤姆再说下去，哈克的速度已达到每小时三四十里，他俩一口气跑到村头旧屠宰场的空木棚那里才停下来。他们刚到屋檐下，风暴就来了，接着大雨倾盆而下，汤姆一缓过气就说：
“哈克，真恐怖。我尽量轻地开门，试了两把钥匙，声音哗哗直响，吓得我气都喘不过来，钥匙也转不动了。后来，不知怎的我抓住门柄，结果门开了，门原来没上锁。我连忙跳进去，扯下灯笼上的毛巾，我的妈呀，我差点没被吓死。”
“是什么？——汤姆你看见了什么？”
“哈克，我差点正踩上印第安·乔的手！”
“不会的！”
“没错！他躺在那里，睡得很熟，眼睛上还贴着那块纱布，手臂摊开。”
“乖乖，你干了什么？他醒了吗？”
“没醒，连动也没动。我想，一定是喝醉酒了。我抓起毛巾就往外跑！”
“我要是你的话，连毛巾都不要了。”
“我不行。要是丢了毛巾，姨妈会让我好受的。”
“喂，汤姆，你见到那箱子了吗！”
“哈克，我哪有时间看呢，没看到箱子，也没见到十字，除印第安·乔身边的地上有一个瓶和一只洋铁杯之外，别的什么也没看见。对了，还看到屋里有两只酒桶和一堆瓶子，你明白了吧，哈克，你说说，那间闹鬼的房子到底怎么了？”
“怎么了？”
“闹鬼，闹的是酒鬼！也许所有的禁酒客栈都有个闹鬼的房间，喂，哈克，你说是不是？”
“嗯，我想你说得对。谁也想不到有这样的怪事？可话说回来了，汤姆，现在乘印第安·乔还醉着，正是拿箱子的好机会。”
“说的是！不过，你去试试！”
哈克吓得直打哆嗦。
“得了，不——我看不行。”
“我也觉得不行，哈克，一瓶酒是醉不倒印第安·乔的，他身边要是有三瓶，那他一定烂醉，我也敢去试一试。”
汤姆沉思了很久后才开口说：
“哈克，听着，只要印第安·乔一刻不走，我们就别试了。太吓人了。要是每天晚上都盯着点，我们肯定能看到他出来，无论何时，只要他一出来，我们就闪电般冲进去，抱着箱子就跑。”
“行，我赞成，我一夜看到亮，天天晚上看，你负责去抱箱子。”
“好，就这么定下来。你到琥珀街去，过一个街区，并学猫叫。要是我睡着了，就朝窗上扔个小石头，叫醒我。”
“没问题，太妙了！”
“哈克，风暴停了，我要回家去。再过一两个小时，天就亮了，你坚持看守这段时间，行吗？”
“我说过的就干，汤姆，我愿意干。我愿每晚去盯那客栈，盯一年都行，白天睡觉，晚上盯个整夜。”
“这就好，你打算睡在什么地方？”
“本·罗杰斯家的干草棚里。他让我睡，他爸爸用的那个黑人杰克叔也让我睡，只要杰克叔要我干，我就帮他提水。有吃的时候，我要，他就给我一点。他真是个好人，汤姆。他喜欢我，我对他从不摆臭架子，有时坐下来和他一起吃饭。不过不要跟别人讲。一个人饿的时候，就管不了那么多了。只要有吃，什么事都愿意干。”
“好，白天要是用不着你，你就睡觉，我不会来烦你。晚上如有事情，就赶快跑到附近，学声猫叫就行了。”

《Chapter 27》
THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away -- somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea -- namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars.
But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream.
"Hello, Huck!"
"Hello, yourself."
Silence, for a minute.
"Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!"
"'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck."
"What ain't a dream?"
"Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was."
"Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night -- with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em -- rot him!"
"No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!"
"Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile -- and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway."
"Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway -- and track him out -- to his Number Two."
"Number Two -- yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?"
"I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck -- maybe it's the number of a house!"
"Goody! ... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here."
"Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here -- it's the number of a room -- in a tavern, you know!"
"Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick."
"You stay here, Huck, till I come."
Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before.
"That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after."
"I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?"
"Lemme think."
Tom thought a long time. Then he said:
"I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place."
"Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!"
"Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you -- and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything."
"Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono -- I dono. I'll try."
"You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money."
"It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!"
"Now you're talking! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't."

《第二十七章　忐忑不安的跟踪》
那天晚上，汤姆一夜都没睡好，白天的历险也被带入梦乡。他梦中抓住了宝箱有四次，可是当睡梦消失，他醒后面对的还是那不幸的严酷现实：宝箱化为乌有，他仍是两手空空。一大早，他躺在那儿，回想着伟大的冒险经历，觉得那些事件越来越模糊，越来越远——有点像是在另一个世界里发生的，或者是很久很久以前发生过的事情。于是他突然意识到这次大冒险本身一定是一场梦！这种想法强有力的论点就是他见到的金币数量太多，不敢当真，以前他从没有一下子看过五十块。他和同年孩子们一样，认为什么几万元、成千上万元，只不过是谈谈而已，根本不存在这么大数目的钱。他一刻也没有认为，哪个人真拥有一百美元这样大数目的钱。如果分析一下，他认为埋藏的那部分财宝，只不过是一把真分币和一大堆可观不可及、光亮闪闪的块票而已。
可是他越想，冒险的事情就越历历在目，他倒觉得这也许不是梦，是真的。他一定要弄个水落石出，于是他三口两口吃完早饭后就去找哈克。
哈克坐在一条平底船的船舷上边，两只脚没精打采地放在水里，看上去忧心忡忡。汤姆决定让哈克先开口谈这个问题。他要是不提这事，那足以证明上次的冒险只是场梦。
“哈克，你好！”
“喂，你好。”
一阵沉默。
“汤姆，要是把那该死的工具放在枯树那边，我们就拿到钱了，唉，你说糟糕不糟糕！”
“不是梦，是真的喽！不知怎的，我倒希望它是个梦。骗人是小狗，哈克。”
“什么不是梦呀？”
“欧，就是昨天那件事，我刚才还半信半疑那是个梦。”
“梦！要不是那楼梯倒了，你会做更多的梦！我一夜梦得够多的，那个独眼的西班牙鬼子一直追着我——该死的家伙！”
“不不，不要咒他死，要找到活人！把钱追出来！”
“汤姆，我们不会找到他，人发财的机会又不多，而这次发大财的机会又错过了。不管怎么说，要是见到他，我非发抖不可。”
“对，我也会发抖，不过无论如何得见到他，就是到二号去也要把他挖出来。”
“二号，对，就是嘛，我也在想这事，可理不出头绪来，你有何高招？”
“我也不知道那是个什么地方。太难了，想不出来。哈克，那要么是门牌号码？”
“太对了！……不，汤姆，那不是门牌号，这个巴掌大的小镇，这城里就这么巴掌大一块，根本用不着什么门牌号。”“对，这话不假。让我再想想，这是房间号，是客栈里的，你知道吧。”
“噢，你说对了！这儿只有两家客栈，会弄明白的。”
“哈克，呆在这儿，等我回来。”
汤姆立刻出去了，他不喜欢在大众场合下和哈克在一块。他去了有半个小时，他发现在那家较好的客栈里，一个年青的律师长期住在二号，现在也没走。可是那家较差的客栈，二号却是个谜。客栈老板那年青的儿子说，二号一直锁着，除了晚上，从来没有人进出，他也不知道为什么会这样，只觉得略有点好奇，以那房子“闹鬼”为由来满足自己的好奇心。
他还曾注意到前天晚上，二号里有灯光。
“哈克，这就是我调查的结果。我想我们要找的就是这个二号。”
“我想是的，汤姆。你打算怎么办？”
“让我想想。”
想了很久之后，汤姆说：
“听着，二号后门通着客栈和旧轮窑厂之间的小窄巷子。你去把所有能找到的门钥匙全弄到手，我去偷姨妈的，等天一黑我们就去试门。提醒你注意印第安·乔的动静，他说过要溜回城里打探虚实以便伺机报复。你如果看见他，就跟踪他；他要不进二号，那就不是这个地方。”
“乖乖，一个人跟着他，我不干！”
“是晚上去，他肯定看不见你——就是看见了，也不会多想的。”
“好，如果确确实实是晚上去，我想我去，不过说不准，说不准，试试吧。”
“要是天黑的话，哈克，我准会跟着他。他也许看到复仇无望，不如去把钱先弄到手。”
“说得对，汤姆，说得对，我去盯着他，一定去，敲定了。”
“这才是好样的！别动摇呀，哈克，我是不会动摇的。”

《Chapter 26》
ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also -- but suddenly said:
"Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?"
Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them --
"My! I never once thought of it, Huck!"
"Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday."
"Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday."
"~might! Better say we would! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't."
"Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck."
"Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night -- dreampt about rats."
"No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?"
"No."
"Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?"
"No. Who's Robin Hood?"
"Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England -- and the best. He was a robber."
"Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?"
"Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square."
"Well, he must 'a' been a brick."
"I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half."
"What's a yew bow?"
"I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry –and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood -- it's nobby fun. I'll learn you."
"I'm agreed."
So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill.
On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting.
When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat.
In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result -- they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud –there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when --
"Sh!" said Tom.
"What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright.
"Sh! ... There! ... Hear it?"
"Yes! ... Oh, my! Let's run!"
"Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door."
The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear.
"They've stopped.... No -- coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!"
Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately -- never saw t'other man before."
"T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded:
"No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous."
"Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard -- to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!"
This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said:
"What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder -- but nothing's come of it."
"That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed."
"Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime! -- anybody would suspicion us that saw us."
"I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view."
"Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year.
The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said:
"Look here, lad -- you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!"
This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said:
"I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch."
He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now.
The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered:
"Now's our chance -- come!"
Huck said:
"I can't -- I'd die if they was to wake."
Tom urged -- Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting.
Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around -- smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees -- stirred him up with his foot and said:
"Here! you're a watchman, ain't you! All right, though -- nothing's happened."
"My! have I been asleep?"
"Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?"
"I don't know -- leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry."
"Well -- all right -- it won't matter to come here once more."
"No -- but I'd say come in the night as we used to do -- it's better."
"Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it -- and bury it deep."
"Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearthstones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife.
The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck! –the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices -- there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment -- eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant -- "Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!"
Joe's knife struck upon something.
"Hello!" said he.
"What is it?" said his comrade.
"Half-rotten plank -- no, it's a box, I believe. Here -- bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole."
He reached his hand in and drew it out --
"Man, it's money!"
The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted.
Joe's comrade said:
"We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace –I saw it a minute ago."
He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence.
"pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe.
"'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed.
"I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say."
"Now you won't need to do that job."
The half-breed frowned. Said he:
"You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether -- it's revenge!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished -- then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me."
"Well -- if you say so; what'll we do with this -- bury it again?"
"Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] No! by the great Sachem, no! [profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here -- and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody? -- seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly -- not exactly. We'll take it to my den."
"Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?"
"No -- Number Two -- under the cross. The other place is bad -- too common."
"All right. It's nearly dark enough to start."
Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. presently he said:
"Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?"
The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs -- the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads -- they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the débris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said:
"Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them stay there -- who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes -- and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet."
Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box.
Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves -- hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there!
They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom.
"Revenge? What if he means us, Huck!"
"Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting.
They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else -- at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified.
Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought.

《第二十六章　真正的强盗找到了一箱金子》
第二天大约在中午，这两个孩子到那棵枯树前来拿工具。汤姆急不可耐地要到那个闹鬼的屋子去；显然哈克也想去，可却突然说：“喂，我说汤姆，你知道今天是什么日子？”
汤姆脑子转了转，合计着日子，接着迅速地抬起眼睛，一副惊讶的表情。
“我的妈呀！哈克，我还没想到这一点呢！”
“哦，我也是的，不过，我刚才忽然想起今天是星期五。”（星期五是基督耶稣受难的日子，所以基督徒们认为它是个不吉利的日子。）
“真该死，哈克，得仔细点才行。我们在这个日子干这种事情，可能是自找麻烦。”
“你说可能。最好还是说一定！要是换成别的日子，说不定会有救，可是今天不成。”
“这连傻瓜都知道。不过，哈克，我想除你之外，还有别人明白这个理。”
“哼！我说过就我一人明白了吗？光星期五还不够。昨天夜里，我做了一个糟糕透顶的梦——梦见耗子了。”
“真是瞎胡闹！一准要倒霉了。它们打架了吗？”
“没有。”
“嗯，这还行。哈克，梦见耗子但没梦见它们打架，这说明要有麻烦事了。我们要特别、特别地小心，设法避开它就没事了，今天算了，去玩吧。哈克，你知道罗宾汉吗？”
“不知道。他是谁？”
“嘿，这你都不知道。他可是英国有史以来最伟大的人物之一，也是最好的一个。他是个强盗。”
“嗳哟，真了不起，我要也是就好了。他抢谁呢？”
“他劫富济贫，抢的都是郡长、主教、国王之类的富人。他不但不骚扰穷人，而且还跟他们平分抢来的东西。”
“嗯，他一定是个好汉。”
“那还用说，哈克。欧，他真了不起。我从来没见过这样高尚的人。我敢说现在没有这样的人了，我敢这么说。他一只手背在后面都能把任何人打倒。他要是拿起那把紫杉木弓，一英里半开外就能射中一角钱的分币，百发百中。”
“紫杉木弓是什么？”
“搞不清，就是一种弓吧。他如果没有打到十环的水平，那坐下来就哭——还要咒骂。得了，我们来演罗宾汉吧，它好玩极了。我来教你。”
“好的。”
他俩玩了一下午的罗宾汉游戏，边玩边忍不住不时地朝那座闹鬼的房子看上一两眼，三言两语地议论着第二天到那里去会发生的情况。太阳西沉时，他俩顺着长长的树影往家走去，不久就消失在卡第夫山的树林中。
星期六中午刚过不久，两个孩子又来到那棵死树旁。他俩先在树荫下抽了一会烟，聊了几句，然后又在剩下的一个洞里继续挖了几锹。当然这样做并非出于抱有多大的希望，只是因为汤姆说过有许多回挖宝的人离宝只有六寸，结果还是让别的人一锹就给挖走了。不过，这一次他俩没那么幸运，于是他们就扛起工具走了，他们很看重财宝，而且就挖宝而言，他们已尽了最大的努力。
片刻之后，他俩熟悉了这个地方，不再像刚进来时那样害怕了。于是，他们仔仔细细地审视了一番，既惊奇又十分佩服自己的胆量。接着，他们想上楼看看，这似乎是有点背水一战的意味，他俩得相互壮胆，于是他们把手中的家伙扔到墙角就上了楼。楼上的情景与楼下的一样破落。他们很快发现墙角处有个壁橱，好像里面有点看头，可结果是一无所有。这时的他们胆子大多了，勇气十足。正当他俩准备下楼动手时——
“嘘！”汤姆说。
“怎么回事？”哈克脸色吓得发白，悄悄地问道。
“嘘！……那边……你听见了吗？”
“听见了！……哦，天啊！我们快逃吧！”
“安静！别动！他们正朝门这边走来。”
两个孩子趴在楼板上，眼睛盯着木节孔，在等着，恐惧得要命。
“他们停下了。……不——又过来了……来了。哈克，别再出声，天哪，我要是不在这里就好了！”
进来了两个男人，两个孩子都低低自语道：“一个是那个又聋又哑的西班牙老头，近来在镇上露过一两次面，另一个是陌生人。”
“另一个人”衣衫褴褛，蓬头垢面，脸上表情令人难受；西班牙老头披一条墨西哥花围巾，脸上长着密密麻麻的白色络腮胡，头戴宽边帽，长长的白发垂下，鼻子上架一副绿眼镜。进屋后，“另一个人”低声说着什么，两人面对门，背朝墙，坐在地板上，“另一个人”继续说着，神情也不太紧张了，
话也越来越清楚：“不行，”他说，“我反复琢磨，我还是不想干，这事太危险。”
“危险！”那又聋又哑的西班牙人咕哝着说，“没出息！”两个孩子见此大吃一惊。
这个声音吓得两个孩子喘不过气来，直发抖，是印第安·乔的声音！沉默了一会，乔说：“我们在上面干的事够危险，
可并没有出差错。”
“那可不一样，那是在河上面，离得又很远，附近没有人家，我们试了没干成，这不会有人知道。”
“再说，哪里还有比大白天来这儿更危险的事呢？——谁看见都会起疑心。”
“这我知道。可是干了那傻事后，没有比这更方便的地方了。我也要离开这烂房子。昨天就想走，可是那两个可恶的小子在山上玩，他们看这里一清二楚，想溜是不可能的。”
“那两个可恶的小子”一听就明白了，因此抖个不停；想到他们等到周六再行动，觉得真是幸运，心里想，就是已等了一年，也心甘情愿。
那两个男人拿出些食品作午饭，印第安·乔仔细沉思了许久，最后说：“喂，小伙子，你回到你该去的河上面那边去，
等我的消息。我要进一趟城，去探探风声。等我觉得平安无事时，我们再去干那件危险的事情。完事就一起到得克萨斯州去！”
这倒令人满意，两人随即打了个呵欠，印第安·乔说：
“我困得要命！该轮到你望风了。”
他蜷着身子躺在草上，不一会儿就打起鼾来，同伴推了他一两次，他就不打鼾了。不久望风的也打起瞌睡，头越来越低，俩人呼呼打起鼾来。
两个孩子深深地吸了口气，真是谢天谢地。汤姆低声说：
“机会来了——快点！”
哈克说：“不行，要是他们醒来，我非死不可。”
汤姆催他走——哈克老是不敢动。结果汤姆慢慢站起身，轻轻地一人往外走。可他一迈步，那摇摇晃晃的破楼板就吱吱作响，吓得他立即趴下，像死了一样，他不敢再动一下，两个孩子躺在那里一分一秒地数着时间，似有度日如年之感，最后他俩觉得日子终于熬到了头，看到日落西山，心中充满感激之情。
这时有一人鼾声停了。印第安·乔坐起来，朝四周张望。同伴头垂到膝上，他冷冷地笑笑，用脚把他踹醒，然后对他说：
“喂，你就是这样望风的，幸亏没发生什么意外。”
“天哪，我睡过去了吗？”
“伙计，差不多，差不多，该开路了，剩下的那点油水怎么办？”
“像以前那样，把它留下，等往南方去的时候再捎上它。背着六百五十块银元走可不是件容易的事情。”
“好，再来一次也没什么关系。”
“不，得像以前一样，最好晚上来。”
“对，不过，干那事可能要等很长时间，弄不好会出差错，这地方并不绝对保险，我们干脆把它埋起来——埋得深深的。”
“说得妙，”同伴说道。他走到屋对面，膝盖顶地，取下一块后面的炉边石头，掏出一袋叮当响的袋子，自己拿出二三十美元，又给印第安·乔拿了那么多，然后把袋子递给乔，他正跪在角落边，用猎刀在挖东西。
两个孩子此刻把恐惧和不幸全抛到九霄云外。他们按住内心的喜悦，观察着他们的一举一动。运气！想都不敢想的好运气！六百块钱能让五六个孩子变成阔佬！真是找宝碰到好运气，不费吹灰之力，到那里一挖，准没错。他俩不时地同时彼此相互碰一碰，意思非常明了。“噢，现在你该高兴我们呆在这里是对的！”
乔的刀碰到了东西。
“喂！”他说。
“那是什么？”他的同伴问道。
“快要烂的木板——不，肯定是个箱子，帮帮忙，看看是作什么用的。不要紧，我已经把它给弄了个洞。”
他伸出手把箱子拽出来——
“伙计，是钱！”
两个男人仔细端详满手的钱币，是金币。上面的两个孩子也同他们一样地激动、高兴。
乔的同伴说：
“我们得快挖。我刚才看见壁炉那边拐角处的草堆中有把上锈的铁锹。”
他跑过去拿回两个孩子的工具：十字镐和铁锹，挑剔地看了一番，摇摇头，自言自语地咕哝了一两句，然后开始挖了起来。箱子很快被挖了出来，外面包着铁皮，不太大，经过岁月的侵蚀，现在没有以前牢固了。那两个男人对着宝箱，喜滋滋的，不言不语。
“伙计，箱子有一千块钱。”印第安·乔说道。“以前常听说，有年夏季莫列尔那帮人来过这一带活动，”
陌生人说。
“这事我知道。”印第安·乔说，“我看，这倒有点像是那么回事。”
“现在你不用去干那活啦。”
混血儿皱起眉头。他说道：
“你不了解我，至少你不全知道那件事。那不完全是抢劫——那是复仇啊！”他眼里射出凶恶的光。“这事得你帮我，干完活就到得州去，回去看你老婆和孩子们，等我的消息。”
“好——如果是这样的，那么这箱金币怎么办？——再埋在这里？”
“对，（楼上高兴得欢天喜地。）不！好家伙！绝对不行！（楼上的情绪一落千丈。）我差点忘了，那把铁锹上还有新泥土呢！（两个孩子一听吓得要命。）这里要锹和镐头干什么？是谁拿来的？——人呢？听见有人吗？看见了吗？好家伙，还要把箱子埋起来，让他们回来好发现这里有人动过土？不行，这样不妥，我们把箱子拿到我那里去。”
“说得对呀，干吗不呢？早该想到这主意，你是说要拿到一号去？”
“不，是二号，十字架下面的，别的地方不行，没有特别的地方。”
“好，天快黑了，可以动身了。”
印第安·乔站起身来，在窗户间来回走动，小心地观察着外面的动静，随即他说道：
“谁会把锹和镐头拿到这里呢？你说楼上会不会有人？”
两个孩子被吓得大气不敢喘。印第安·乔手上拿着刀，站在那里，有点犹豫不决，片刻后他转身朝楼梯口走去，孩子们想起了壁橱，可现在却一点力气都没有。
脚步声吱吱嘎嘎地响着，上了楼梯，情况万分危急，危难时刻两个孩子坚定了决心——他俩刚准备跑到壁橱里，就听见哗地一声，印第安·乔连人带朽木板一下子掉到地上烂楼梯木头堆里。他边骂边站起来，这时他同伴说：
“骂有什么用，要是有人在楼上，就让他呆在上面吧，没人在乎，他们要是现在跳下来找岔，没人反对，一刻钟后天就黑了，愿跟就让他们跟踪好了。我愿意。我想，把东西扔在这里的人，一定看见了我们，以为我们是鬼，我敢打赌他们还在逃跑。”
乔咕哝了一阵，然后觉得同伴说得有道理，乘天黑之前，抓紧时间，收拾收拾东西好离开。随后他俩在渐渐沉下来的暮色中溜出去，带着宝箱往河那边走去。
汤姆和哈克站起来，虽然很乏，但现在舒服多了，他俩从房子的木条缝中盯着那两个人的背影。跟踪他们？他俩不行，从屋上平安下来没有扭伤脖子，再翻过山顺着小路返回城中，已经是不错的事情了。他俩没再多说，只是一个劲地埋怨自己，怪运气不好，才把那倒霉的锹和镐头带到这儿来。要不是这两样工具，印第安·乔决不会起疑心。他会把装金币的箱子藏在这里，然后去报仇，等回来后会伤心地发现东西不翼而飞。怎么想起来把工具带到这儿来呢，真是该死，倒霉透顶！
他们打定主意，等那个西班牙人进城刺探、伺机报仇时，一定要盯梢他，跟他到“二号”去，管他上天入地都要跟去。
突然一个可怕的念头出现在汤姆的脑海里。
“报仇？哈克，要是他们指的是我俩，那可怎么办？”
“噢，别讲了。”哈克说着，差点昏过去。
他俩仔细商量了一番，进城后权当他指的是另外的人，至少是指汤姆，因为只有汤姆在法庭上作过证。
汤姆一人陷入危险，确实让他感到不安，很有点不安。他想，要是有个同伴，多少要好受些。

《Chapter 25》
THERE comes a time in every rightlyconstructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck.
"Oh, most anywhere."
"Why, is it hid all around?"
"No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck -- sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses."
"Who hides it?"
"Why, robbers, of course -- who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?"
"I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time."
"So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there."
"Don't they come after it any more?"
"No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks -- a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics."
"HyroQwhich?"
"Hy'roglyphics -- pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything."
"Have you got one of them papers, Tom?"
"No."
"Well then, how you going to find the marks?"
"I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of deadlimb trees -- dead loads of 'em."
"Is it under all of them?"
"How you talk! No!"
"Then how you going to know which one to go for?"
"Go for all of 'em!"
"Why, Tom, it'll take all summer."
"Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?"
Huck's eyes glowed.
"That's bully. plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds."
"All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece -- there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar."
"No! Is that so?"
"Cert'nly -- anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?"
"Not as I remember."
"Oh, kings have slathers of them."
"Well, I don' know no kings, Tom."
"I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around."
"Do they hop?"
"Hop? -- your granny! No!"
"Well, what did you say they did, for?"
"Shucks, I only meant you'd see 'em -- not hopping, of course -- what do they want to hop for? -- but I mean you'd just see 'em -- scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard."
"Richard? What's his other name?"
"He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name."
"No?"
"But they don't."
"Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say –where you going to dig first?"
"Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?"
"I'm agreed."
So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke.
"I like this," said Tom.
"So do I."
"Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?"
"Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time."
"Well, ain't you going to save any of it?"
"Save it? What for?"
"Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by."
"Oh, that ain't any use. pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?"
"I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married."
"Married!"
"That's it."
"Tom, you -- why, you ain't in your right mind."
"Wait -- you'll see."
"Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well."
"That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight."
"Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?"
"It ain't a gal at all -- it's a girl."
"It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl -- both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?"
"I'll tell you some time -- not now."
"All right -- that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever."
"No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging."
They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said:
"Do they always bury it as deep as this?"
"Sometimes -- not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place."
So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said:
"Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?"
"I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's."
"I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land."
"She take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on."
That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said:
"Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?"
"It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now."
"Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime."
"Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!"
"Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?"
"I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it."
"Well, I'll come around and maow to-night."
"All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes."
The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said:
"It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again."
"Well, but we can't be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot."
"I know it, but then there's another thing."
"What's that?".
"Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early."
Huck dropped his shovel.
"That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here."
"Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it."
"Lordy!"
"Yes, they do. I've always heard that."
"Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure."
"I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!"
"Don't Tom! It's awful."
"Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit."
"Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else."
"All right, I reckon we better."
"What'll it be?"
Tom considered awhile; and then said:
"The ha'nted house. That's it!"
"Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom -- nobody could."
"Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime."
"Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night."
"Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway -- but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night -- just some blue lights slipping by the windows -- no regular ghosts."
"Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em."
"Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?"
"Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so -- but I reckon it's taking chances."
They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill.

《第二十五章　掘地寻宝，空手而归》
生得健全的男孩长到一定的时候就会萌生强烈的欲望：到它处去掘地寻宝。一天，汤姆也突生此念。他外出去找乔·哈帕，但没有找到。接着，他又去找本·罗杰斯，可是他去钓鱼去了。不久，他碰到了赤手大盗哈克·费恩。这倒也不错。汤姆把他拉到一个没人的地方，推心置腹地和他摊了牌。哈克欣然表示同意。凡是好玩的，又无须花本钱的冒险活动，哈克总是乐而不疲的。他有足够的时间，而时间又不是金钱，他正愁着没处花呢。
“我们上哪儿挖去？”哈克问。
“噢，好多地方都行哪。”
“怎么，难道到处都藏金匿银吗？”
“不，当然不是。财宝埋在一些相当特殊的地方，哈克——埋在岛上，有的装在朽木箱子里，埋在一棵枯死的大树底下，就是半夜时分树影照到的地方；不过，大多数情况下是埋在神鬼出没的房子下面。”
“是谁埋的呢？”
“嘿，你想还会有谁？当然是强盗们喽——难道是主日学校的校长不成？”
“我不知道。换了我，我才不把它给埋起来，我会拿出去花掉，痛痛快快地潇洒一回。”
“我也会的。但是，强盗们不这样干。他们总把钱埋起来，就撒手不问了。”
“埋过以后他们就不再来找它吗？”
“不，他们是想再找的。可是，他们要不是忘记当初留下的标志，就是死了。总之，财宝埋在那里，时间长了，都上了锈。渐渐地等到后来，就有人发现一张变了色的旧纸条，上面写着如何去找那些记号——这种纸条要花一个星期才能读通，因为上面用的差不多尽是些密码和象形文字。”
“象形——象形什么？”
“象形文字——图画之类的玩艺儿，你知道那玩艺儿看上去，好像没有什么意思。”
“你得到那样的纸条了吗，汤姆？”
“还没有。”
“那么，你打算怎么去找那些记号呢？”
“我不需要什么记号。他们老爱把财宝埋在闹鬼的屋子里或是一个岛上，再不就埋在枯死的树下面，那树上有一独枝伸出来。哼，我们已经在杰克逊岛上找过一阵子了，以后什么时候，我们可以再去找找。在鬼屋河岸上，有间闹鬼的老宅，那儿还有许许多多的枯树——多得很呢。”
“下面全埋着财宝吗？”
“瞧你说的！哪有那么多！”
“那么，你怎么知道该在哪一棵下面挖呢？”
“所有的树下面都要挖一挖。”
“哎，汤姆，这样干，可得挖上一整个夏天呀。”
“哦，那又怎么样？想想看你挖到一个铜罐子，里面装了一百块大洋，都上了锈，变了颜色；或者挖到了一只箱子，里面尽是些钻石。你该作何感想？”
哈克的眼睛亮了起来。
“那可真太棒了。对我来说，简直棒极了。你只要把那一百块大洋给我就得了，钻石我就不要了。”
“好吧。不过，钻石我可不会随便扔掉。有的钻石一颗就值二十美元——有的也不那么值钱，不过也要值六角到一块。”
“哎呀！是真的吗？”
“那当然啦——人人都这么说。你难道未见过钻石，哈克？”
“记忆中好像没见过。”
“嗨，国王的钻石可多着呢。”
“唉，汤姆，我一个国王也不认识呀。”
“这我知道。不过，你要是到欧洲去，你就能看到一大群国王，到处乱窜乱跳。”
“他们乱窜乱跳？”
“什么乱窜乱跳——你这糊涂蛋！不是！”
“哦，那你刚才说他们什么来着？”
“真是瞎胡闹，我的意思是说你会看见他们的——当然不是乱窜乱跳——他们乱窜乱跳干什么？——不过，我是说你会看见他们——用通俗的话说就是到处都有国王。比方说那个驼背的理查老国王。”
“理查？他姓什么？”
“他没有什么姓。国王只有名，没有姓。”
“没有姓？”
“确实没有。”
“唉，要是他们喜欢，汤姆，那也好；不过，我不想当国王，只有名，没有姓，像个黑鬼似的。得了，我问你——你打算从哪儿动手呢？”
“嗯，我也不知道。我们先去鬼屋河岸对面的小山上，从那棵枯树那儿开始挖，你说好不好？”
“我同意。”
于是，他们就找到一把不大好使的镐和一把铁锹，踏上了三英里的路程。等到达目的地，俩人已经热得满头大汗，气喘吁吁，于是往就近的榆树下面一躺，歇歇脚，抽袋烟。
“我喜欢干这活儿。”汤姆说。
“我也是。”
“喂，我说哈克，要是现在就找到了财宝，你打算怎么花你的那份呢？”
“嗨，我就天天吃馅饼，喝汽水，有多少场马戏，我就看多少场，场场不落。我敢说我会快活得像活神仙。”
“嗯，不过你不打算攒点钱吗？”
“攒钱？干什么用？”
“嘿，细水长流嘛。”
“哦，那没用的。我爸迟早会回到镇上，要是我不抓紧把钱花光，他一准会手伸得老长，抢我的钱。告诉你吧，他会很快把钱花得一个子儿不剩。你打算怎么花你的钱呢，汤姆？”
“我打算买一面新鼓，一把货真价实的宝剑，一条红领带和一只小斗犬，还要娶个老婆。”
“娶老婆！”
“是这么回事。”
“汤姆，你——喂，你脑子不正常吧。”
“等着瞧吧，你会明白的。”
“唉，要娶老婆，你可真傻冒透了。看看我爸跟我妈。穷争恶吵！唉，他们见面就打。自我记事他们一直打个没完。”
“这是两码子的事。我要娶的这个女孩子可不会跟我干仗。”
“汤姆，我以为她们都是一样。她们都会跟你胡搅蛮缠。你最好事先多想想。我劝你三思而后行。这个妞叫什么？”
“她不是什么妞——是个女孩子。”
“反正都一样，我想；有人喊妞，有人喊女孩——都是一码子事，一样。噢，对了，她到底叫什么来着，汤姆？”
“等以后再告诉你——现在不行。”
“那好吧——以后告诉就以后告诉吧，只是你成了家就孤独了我喽。”
“那怎么会呢，你可以搬过来，跟我们一起住。咱们还是别谈这些，动手挖吧。”
他们干了半个小时，大汗淋漓而未果。他们又拼命地干了半个钟头，还是一无所获。哈克说：
“他们总是埋得这样深吗？”
“有时候是的——不过不总是这样。一般是不会这样的。
我想我们是不是没找准地方。”
于是，他们又换了个新地方，开始挖起来。他们干得不快，但仍有所进步。他们坚持不懈，默默地干了一段时间。末了，哈克倚着铁锹，用袖子抹了把额头上豆大的汗珠，说道：
“挖完这个，你打算再到哪里去挖呢？”
“我想咱们也许可以到那儿去挖，卡第夫山上寡妇家后面的那棵老树下面挖。”
“那地方不错。不过，那寡妇会不会把咱们挖到的财宝据为己有呢，汤姆？那可是在她家的地上呀。”
“据为己有！说得倒轻松，叫她试试看。谁找到的宝藏，就该归谁，这与谁家的地没任何关系。”
这种说法令人满意。他们继续挖着。后来，哈克说：
“妈的，咱们准是又挖错了地方。你看呢？”
“这就怪了，哈克。我真搞不懂。有时候，巫婆会暗中捣鬼。我猜问题出在这儿。”
“胡说！巫婆白天是没有法力的。”
“对，这话不假。我没想到这一点。啊，我知道问题出在哪儿了！咱俩真是他妈的大傻瓜两个！你得搞清楚夜半时分，那个伸出的树杈影子落在什么地方，然后就在那里开挖才行呀！”
“可不是吗。真是的，我俩傻乎乎地白挖了一场。这事真该死，咱们得半夜三更跑到这儿来。路程可不近。你能溜出来吗？”
“我想我会出来。咱们今晚非来不可，因为要是给旁人看见这些坑坑洼洼，他们立刻就会知道这儿有什么，号上这块地方。”
“那么，我今晚就到你家附近学猫叫。”
“好吧。咱们把工具藏到矮树丛里。”
当夜，两个孩子果然如约而来。他们坐在树荫底下等着。这是个偏僻的地方，又值夜半，迷信的说法把这地方搞得阴森森的。沙沙作响的树叶像是鬼怪们在窃窃私语，暗影里不知有多少魂灵埋伏着，远处不时传来沉沉的狗吠，一只猫头鹰阴森地厉叫着。两个孩子给这种阴沉恐怖的气氛吓住了，他们很少讲话。后来，估模时间该到１２点钟了，他们就在树影垂落的地方作了记号，开始挖起来。他们的希望开始涨潮，兴致越来越高，干劲越来越大，坑越挖越深。每次他们听到镐碰到什么东西的声响，心都激动得怦怦狂跳，可每次又都免不了失望。原来那不过是碰到了一块石头或是一块木头。汤姆终于开口道：
“这样干还是不行，哈克，咱们又搞错了。”
“哎，怎么会呢。咱们在树影落下的地方作的记号，一点没错。”
“我知道，不过还有一点。”
“是什么？”
“唉，咱们只是在估摸时间。也可能太早了或太迟了。”
哈克把铁锹往地上一扔。
“对，”他说，“问题就出在这儿。咱们别挖这个坑了。咱们根本搞不准时间，而且这事太可怕了，半夜三更的，在这么个鬼蜮横流的地方。我老觉得背后有什么东西盯着我。我简直不敢回头；前面说不定也有什么怪物在等着害咱们呢。自打来到这地方，我就浑身直起鸡皮疙瘩。”
“唉，我也差不多有同感，哈克。他们在树下埋财宝的时候，通常还埋上一个死人来作看守。”
“天啊！”
“是真的。我常听人家这么说。”
“汤姆，我不喜欢在有死人的地方闲荡。否则一定会遇上麻烦的，肯定会的。”
“我也不想打扰他们。说不定这儿会有个死人伸出脑袋，开口说话呢！”
“别说了，汤姆！真恐怖。”
“嘿，可不是。哈克，我也觉得不对劲儿。”
“喂，汤姆，咱们还是别在这儿挖了，再到别处碰碰运气。”
“好吧，就这么办。”
“再到哪儿去挖呢？”
汤姆思忖了一会，然后说：
“到那间闹鬼的屋子里去挖。对，就这么办！”
“妈的，我也不喜欢闹鬼的屋子，汤姆。唉，那里比死人还可怕。也许死人会说话，可是他们不会趁你不注意，披着寿衣悄悄溜过来，猛地从你背后探出身来，龇牙咧嘴；但他们就爱这么干。我可吃不住这份惊吓，汤姆——没人吃得住。”
“是呀。不过，哈克，鬼怪只是在夜间才出来。咱们白天到那儿去挖，他们不会碍事的。”
“对，这话不错。可是你知道，不管是白天，还是夜里，都没人去那间鬼屋。”
“噢，这大概是因为他们不喜欢到一个出过人命案的地方去——可是，除了夜里，那所房子周围倒没谁看见过什么——夜里，只有些蓝光在窗户那儿飘来荡去——不是总有鬼。”
“哦，汤姆，你看到蓝光飘忽的地方，那后面一准跟着一个鬼。这是有道理的，因为你知道，除了鬼怪，没有什么人点蓝色的火光。”
“是呀，这话没错。不过，既然他们白天不会出来，咱们还怕什么呢？”
“唉，好吧。既然你这么说，咱们就去探探那间鬼屋——不过，我想我们只是在碰运气。”
这时候，他们已经动身往山下走。在他们下面的山谷中间，那间“鬼屋”，孤零零地立在月光底下，围墙早就没有了，
遍地杂草丛生，台阶半掩，烟囱倾坍，窗框空空荡荡，屋顶一个犄角也塌掉了。两个孩子瞪大眼睛看了一会，想见一见窗户边有蓝幽幽的火光飘过；在这种特定的氛围里他们压低了嗓音说着话，一边尽量靠右边走，远远躲开那间鬼屋，穿过卡第夫山后的树林，一路走回家去。

《Chapter 24》
TOM was a glittering hero once more -- the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be president, yet, if he escaped hanging.
As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it.
Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated.
Daily Muff potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue.
Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse.
Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before.
The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension.

《第二十四章　白天神气十足，夜里提心吊担》
汤姆又一次成为众人瞩目的英雄——长辈们宠爱他，同伴们羡慕他。他的名字见了报，获得了永生，镇上的报纸大肆宣扬了他的事迹。有些人相信，只要他不被绞死，将来总有一天会当总统。
那些喜怒无常、没有脑子的人们，又像往常一样，把莫夫·波特当作老伙计，对他非常亲密友好，那股热情劲儿就和当初他们起劲地凌辱他一样。但这种行为毕竟还是人类的美德，因此，我们还是不要去吹毛求疵吧。
汤姆白天过得神气十足，得意洋洋，可晚上全是在恐怖之中度过的。印第安·乔老是出现在他的梦里，而且目露凶光。天黑以后，无论多么大的诱惑也无法吸引这个孩子再走出家门。可怜的哈克也处于同样的不幸与恐怖之中。汤姆在开庭审理这个案子的头一天，已经把全部事实经过告诉了律师。虽然印第安·乔的逃跑使他免于出庭作证，但是，他还是极度害怕，害怕自己与这个案子有牵连的事会泄露出去。可怜的小家伙已经让律师向他保证，要替他保守秘密，可那又有什么用？汤姆的嘴原本已被可怕而庄严的誓词封住了，后来由于受到良心的折磨，他便在夜晚去律师家，把那可怕的经历抖露了出来。既然这样，哈克对人类的信任就几乎荡然无存了。
在白天，莫夫·波特的感谢使汤姆很高兴自己能说出事实真相；可是，一到晚上，他就懊悔自己未能封住舌头，守口如瓶。
有一段时间，汤姆惟恐印第安·乔永远逍遥法外；另一半时间，他又害怕他被捕。他深深感到，除非等这个人死了，让他亲眼看见他那具尸体，否则，他将永无宁日。
法院悬出赏，整个地区都搜遍了，可就是没揪住印第安·乔。从圣路易斯那些神通广大、令人敬畏的非凡人物中，派来了一名侦探。他四处调查，摇头晃脑，看起来颇为不凡，还像他的同行们一样，取得了惊人的进展。那就是说，他“找到了线索”。但是，你总不能把“线索”当作杀人犯拉来绞死。
所以在这位侦探完成任务回去之后，汤姆觉得和从前一样，没有安全感。
漫长的日子一天、一天地熬过来，每过一天，这种恐惧的心理负担就相应地稍稍减轻一点。

《Chapter 23》
AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred -- and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet.
"Huck, have you ever told anybody about -- that?"
"'Bout what?"
"You know what."
"Oh -- 'course I haven't."
"Never a word?"
"Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?"
"Well, I was afeard."
"Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. You know that."
Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause:
"Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?"
"Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way."
"Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer."
"I'm agreed."
So they swore again with dread solemnities.
"What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it."
"Talk? Well, it's just Muff potter, Muff potter, Muff potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers."
"That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?"
"Most always -- most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on -- and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that -- leastways most of us -- preachers and such like. But he's kind of good -- he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck."
"Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there."
"My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again."
"Yes -- so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done -- that."
"I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before."
"Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him."
"And they'd do it, too."
The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive.
The boys did as they had often done before -- went to the cell grating and gave potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards.
His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before -- it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when potter said:
"You've been mighty good to me, boys -- better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't -- they don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing -- drunk and crazy at the time -- that's the only way I account for it –and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and best, too, I reckon -- hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make you feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't you ever get drunk -- then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west -- so -- that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces -- good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands -- yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak -- but they've helped Muff potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could."
Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the courtroom, but invariably heard distressing news -- the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be.
Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating.
Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said:
"Take the witness."
The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said:
"I have no questions to ask him."
The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said:
"Take the witness."
"I have no questions to ask him," potter's lawyer replied.
A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in potter's possession.
"Take the witness."
Counsel for potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort?
Several witnesses deposed concerning potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned.
Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were crossexamined by potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said:
"By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here."
A groan escaped from poor potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said:
"Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!"
A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered.
"Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?"
Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear:
"In the graveyard!"
"A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were --"
"In the graveyard."
A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face.
"Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?"
"Yes, sir."
"Speak up -- just a trifle louder. How near were you?"
"Near as I am to you."
"Were you hidden, or not?"
"I was hid."
"Where?"
"Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave."
Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start.
"Any one with you?"
"Yes, sir. I went there with --"
"Wait -- wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you."
Tom hesitated and looked confused.
"Speak out, my boy -- don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?"
"Only a -- a -- dead cat."
There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked.
"We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred -- tell it in your own way -- don't skip anything, and don't be afraid."
Tom began -- hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said:
"-- and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and --"
Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone!

《第二十三章　波特无罪，乔逃亡在外》
最后，昏昏然的气氛被打破了——而且打破得很彻底：那起谋杀案在法庭上公开审理了。这事立即成了全镇人谈论的热门话题。汤姆无法摆脱这件事。每逢有人提及这起谋杀案，他就心为之悸，因为他那不安的良心和极度的恐惧几乎使他相信，人家是故意说给他听，探探他的“口风”；他不明白，别人怎么会怀疑自己了解这个案情，但听了这些议论，他总是不能够泰然处之。这些话让他不停地打寒噤。他把哈克拉到一个僻静处，同他谈了这件事。能暂时地倾吐一下心结，和另一个同样受折磨的人共同分担一下忧愁，这对汤姆来说，多少算是点安慰。而且，他想搞清楚，哈克是否始终没把这个秘密泄露出去。
“哈克，你曾经跟什么人说起过——那件事吗？”
“什么事情？”
“明知故问。”
“哦——当然没说过。”
“一句也没说过吗？”
“一个字也没说过，我发誓。你问这个干吗？”
“唉，我很害怕。”
“嘿，汤姆·索亚，一旦秘密泄露，我们连两天也活不成。这你知道。”
汤姆觉得心里踏实多了。停了一会，他说：
“哈克，要是他们逼你招供，你怎么办？”
“逼我招供？嘿，除非我想被那个混帐王八蛋活活淹死，我才会招供。否则，他们绝办不到。”
“好吧，这样就没事了。我想只要咱们守口如瓶，就可保安然无恙。但是，让咱们再发一回誓吧。这样更牢靠些。”
“我赞成。”
于是他们又非常严肃认真地发了一回誓。
“大家都在议论些什么事，哈克？我听到的多得一塌糊涂呀！”
“什么事？嗐，还不是莫夫·波特、莫夫·波特、莫夫·波特，没完没了。这些话让人直冒冷汗，我想找个地方躲一躲。”
“我也有同感。我想他算是完了。你是不是有时候也为他感到难过？”
“差不多经常为他难过——经常是这样。他不算什么人物；但他从来没做过什么伤天害理的事情。不过是钓钓鱼，去卖钱来换酒大喝一通——常到处闲逛；可是，老天，咱们也没少干这些事啊——起码咱们多半都是这样——连布道的人也不例外。但是他心眼好——有一次，我钓的鱼不够两个人分，他还给了我半条鱼；还有好多次，我运气不佳的时候，他都没少帮忙。”
“哎，哈克，他帮我修过风筝，还帮我把鱼钩系在竿子上。
我希望我们能把他救出来。”
“哎呀！汤姆，那可使不得。况且，救出来也不济于事；
他们还会再把他抓回去。”
“是呀——他们会再把他抓回去。可是，我讨厌听到他们骂他是魔鬼，其实他根本没干——那件事。”
“我也一样，汤姆。老天爷，我听到他们骂他是全国头一号恶棍，他们还说他为什么从前没被绞死呢。”
“对，他们一直都是这么骂的。我还听人说，要是他被放出来，他们就偷偷结果掉他。”
“他们真的会那么干。”
两个孩子谈了很久，可并没有得到什么安慰。天色向晚，他俩来到那偏僻的小牢房附近转悠，心里存着不太明确的希望，希望能发生什么意外之事，来帮他们排忧解难。但是，什么事也没发生；似乎没什么天使神仙对这倒霉的囚犯感兴趣。
这两个孩子还是像从前那样——走到牢房的窗户那儿，给波特递进去一点烟叶和火柴。他被关在第一层，没有看守。
他非常感激他俩给他送好东西，这更让他俩的良心不安起来——这一次，像把刀似的深深刺进他们心里。当波特打开话匣时，他俩觉得自己极其胆小怕事，是个十足的叛徒。他说：
“孩子们，你们对我太好了——比镇上任何其他的人都好。我不会忘记的，我忘不了。我常自个儿唸叨着：‘我过去常常给镇上的孩子们修理风筝之类的玩具，告诉他们什么地方钓鱼最好，尽力和他们交朋友。但现在波特老头遭难了，他们就把他给忘了；可是啊，汤姆没有忘，哈克也没有忘——只有他俩没有忘记他。’我说：‘我也不会忘记他们。’啊，孩子们，我干了件可怕的事情——当时我喝醉了，神志不清——我只能这么解释——现在，我要因此事而被吊死，这是应该的。我想，是应该的，也是最好的——我反倒希望被吊死。哦，咱们不谈这事了吧。我不想让你们伤心难过；你们对我这么好，但是，我想对你们说的就是，你们千万不能酗酒啊——这样，你们就不会被关到这里了。你们再往西站一点——对——就这样；一个人遭此不幸，还能看到对他友好的面孔，真是莫大的安慰啊。现在，除了你们，再也没有人来看我了。多么友好的脸蛋——多友好啊。你们俩一个爬到另一个背上，让我摸摸你们的脸吧。好了。咱们握握手吧——你们的手可以从窗户缝中伸进来，我的手太大不行。这么小的手，没多大力气——可就是这小手帮了莫夫·波特很大的忙，要是能帮上更大的忙，也会帮的呀。”
汤姆悲痛地回到家里，当夜做了很多恶梦。第二天和第三天，他在法院外面转来转去，心里有种无法克制的冲动，想闯进去，可他还是强迫自己留在外面。哈克也有同样的经历。他们故意相互回避着。他们时常从那里走开，可是又都被这件惨案吸引回来。每当有旁听的人从法庭出来，汤姆就侧着耳朵细听，但听到的消息都令人忧心忡忡——法网越来越无情地罩向可怜的莫夫·波特身上。第二天快结束的时候，镇上传言，印第安·乔的证据确凿无疑，陪审团如何裁决此案是明摆着的了。
那天夜里，汤姆很晚才回来，他从窗子里爬进来上床睡觉。由于极度兴奋，过了好几个小时他才睡着。次晨，镇上所有的人成群结队地向法院走去，因为今天是个不平常的日子。听众席上挤满了人，男女各占一半。人们等了很久，陪审团才一个接着一个入场就座；不一会，波特带着手铐被押了进来，他面色苍白，一脸憔悴，神情羞怯，一副听天由命的样子。他坐的地方很显眼，全场好奇的人都能看得见。印第安·乔也同样地引人注目，他还是和先前一样不露声色。又过了一会，法官驾到，执法官就宣布开庭。接着，就听见律师们惯例式地低头接耳和收拾文件的声音。这些细节和随后的耽搁给人们一种准备开庭的印象，它既让人印象深刻同时又令人着迷。
现在，一个证人被带上来。他作证说在谋杀案发生的那天清晨，他看见莫夫·波特在河里洗澡，并且很快就溜掉了。
原告律师问了一会，说：
“问讯证人。”
犯人抬眼看了一会，然后又低下了眼睛。这时他的辩护律师说：
“我没有问题要问。”
第二个证人证明，他曾在被害人尸体附近发现了那把刀。
原告律师说：
“问讯证人。”
波特的律师说：“我没有问题要问。”
第三个证人发誓说，他常常看见波特带着那把刀。
“问讯证人。”
波特的律师拒绝向这个证人提问。看得出听众们开始恼火了。难道这个辩护律师不打算作任何努力，就把他的当事人性命给断送掉吗？
有几个证人都作证说当波特被带到凶杀现场时，他表现出了畏罪行为。被告的律师没有盘问他们一句，就允许他们退出了证人席。
在场的人对那天早上坟地里发生的悲剧都记忆犹新。现在宣过誓的证人把一个一个的细节都讲了出来，不过他们无一受到波特律师的盘问。全场一片低语声，表达了人们的困惑和不满的情绪，结果引起了法官的一阵申斥。于是，原告律师说：
“诸位公民宣誓作证，言简意赅不容置疑，据此，我们认定这起可怕的谋杀案，毫无疑问，系被告席上这个不幸的犯人所为。本案取证到此结束。”
可怜的莫夫呻吟了一声，他双手捂脸，来回轻轻地摇晃着身子，与此同时法庭上一片寂静，令人痛苦。许多男人都被感动了，女人们也掉下了同情的眼泪。这时，辩护律师站起身来，说：
“法官大人，本庭审讯之初，我们的所言就涵盖了开庭审讯之目的，我们曾力图证明我言外之意：我的当事人喝了酒，所以在神志不清的情况下干了这件可怕的事情。现在我改变了主意，我申请撤回那篇辩护词。”然后他对书记员说：“传汤姆·索亚！”
在场的每一个人都莫名其妙，惊诧不已；连波特也不例外。当汤姆站起来，走到证人席上的时候，人们都怀着极大的兴趣迷惑不解地盯着他。这孩子因为受到过分惊吓，看起来有点不能自制。他宣了誓。
“汤姆·索亚，６月１７日大约半夜时分，你在什么地方？”
看见印第安·乔那张冷酷的脸，汤姆舌头僵住了，讲不出话来。听众们屏息敛气静听，可是话还是没有说出来。然而，过了几分钟，这孩子恢复了一点气力，勉强提高了声音，但仍然只有部分人能听清楚他的话：
“在坟地！”
“请你稍微大点声。别害怕。你是在……”
“在坟地。”
印第安·乔的脸上迅速地闪过一丝嘲弄的微笑。
“你是在霍斯·威廉斯的坟墓附近的什么地方吗？”
“是的，先生。”
“大点声——再稍微大点声。距离有多远？”
“就像我离您这么远。”
“你是不是藏起来了？”
“是藏起来了。”
“什么地方？”
“藏在坟边的几棵榆树后面。”
印第安·乔吃了一惊，别人几乎没有察觉到。
“还有别人吗？”
“有，先生。我是和……”
“别忙——等一下。你不要提及你同伴的名字。我们在适当的时候，会传问他的。你到那里去，带着什么东西吗？”
汤姆犹豫着，不知所措。
“说出来吧，孩子——别害怕。说真话总是让人敬佩的。
带了什么去的？”
“就带了一只——呃——一只死猫。”
人们一阵哄笑。法官把他们喝止住了。
“我们会把那只死猫的残骸拿来给大家看的。现在，孩子，你把当时发生的事说出来——照实说——什么也别说漏掉，别害怕。”
汤姆开始说了——起初有些吞吞吐吐，可是渐渐地喜欢这个话题了，于是，就越说越流畅自如；没过多么，除了他在说话外别无其它声音，每双眼睛都在盯着他；人们张着嘴，屏住呼吸，兴致盎然地听他讲述着这个传奇般的经历，一点都没注意到时间，都被这个恐怖而又魅力十足的历险吸引住了。
说到后来，汤姆心中积压的情感一下子迸发出来，他说：
“……医生一挥那木牌，莫夫·波特就应声倒在地上，印第安·乔拿着刀，跳过来，狠狠就是一下……”
“哗啦！”那个混帐闪电一般，朝窗口窜去，冲开所有阻挡他的人，跑了！

《Chapter 22》
TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing -- namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up -- gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours -- and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high -- so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the lookingglass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend -- and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once -- and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again.
The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however -- there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now -- but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it.
Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands.
He attempted a diary -- but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it.
The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days.
Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment –for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it.
A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting -- admission, three pins for boys, two for girls -- and then circusing was abandoned.
A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came -- and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever.
There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder.
Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation -- so there was no bright side to life anywhere.
The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain.
Then came the measles.
During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever.
And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself.
By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait -- for there might not be any more storms.
The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. poor lads! they -- like Tom -- had suffered a relapse.

《第二十二章　哈克》
汤姆被少年节制会的漂亮“绶带”吸引住了，就加入了该新组织。他保证入会期间，不抽烟，不嚼烟，不渎神。之后他有了个新发现——那就是，嘴上保证的越漂亮，而实际上干的正好相反。汤姆不久就发觉自己被一种强烈的欲望所折磨，即想抽烟，想破口大骂。这种欲望如此强烈，他真想从节制会退出来，念及自己能有机会佩戴红肩带好好露把脸，他才打消了退会的念头。七月四号快要到了（美国独立纪念日），但不久他就放弃了这个愿望——戴上”枷锁”还不到四十八个小时，他就放弃了这种愿望——又把希望寄托在治安法官弗雷塞老头身上。此人显然行将就木，既然他身居要职，死后一定会有一个盛大的丧礼。三天以来，汤姆深切关注着法官的病情，如饥似渴等着消息。有时，他的希望似乎触手可及——他甚至大胆地拿出他的绶带，对着镜子自我演示一番。但法官病情的进展不尽汤姆的人意。后来，他竟生机重现——接着便慢慢康复了。汤姆对此大光其火；他简直觉得自己受了伤害。于是他马上申请退会——但就在当晚，法官旧病复发，一命呜呼。汤姆发誓以后再也不相信这种人了。
丧礼搞得颇为隆重。少年节制会的会员们神气十足地列队游行，让那位退会的会员忌妒得要死。但不管怎么说，汤姆又恢复自由这很有意义。他又可以喝酒，可以咒娘了——可是他惊奇地发现自己对这些事兴趣索然。道理很简单，他现在自由了，这些做法反而失去了魅力，他可以摆脱欲望了。
汤姆不久就感到，让他梦寐以求的暑假渐渐变得沉闷冗长起来。
他试图写写日记——但三天以来，没有什么稀罕事儿发生，于是他又放弃了这个想法。
一流的黑人演奏队来到了这个小镇，引起了轰动。汤姆和哈帕组织了一队演奏员，尽情地疯了两天。
就连光荣的七月四日从某种意义上说，也没那么热闹了。因为那天下了场大雨，所以没有队伍游行，而世界上最伟大的人物（在汤姆看来），一个真正的美国参议员本顿先生，令人失望——因为事实上他身高并没有二十五英尺，甚至远远挨不上这个边儿。
马戏团来了。从那以后，孩子们用破毯子搭起一个帐篷，一连玩了三天的马戏——入场券是：男孩子要三根别针，女孩子要两根——不久，马戏也不玩了。
后来，又来了一个骨相家和一个催眠师——他们也走了，这个镇子较之以往更加沉闷、更加乏味。
有人举办过男孩子和女孩子的联欢会，但次数有限，况且联欢会又那么有趣，所以在没有联欢会的日子里，空虚的、苦恼的气味更浓了。
贝基·撒切尔去康士坦丁堡镇的家里，和她父母一起度暑假去了——所以，无论怎样过，生活皆无乐趣可言。
那次可怕的谋杀案的秘密不断折磨着汤姆，简直像一颗永不甘休的毒瘤。
接着，汤姆又患上了麻疹。
在漫长的两周里，汤姆像个犯人似地在家躺着，与世隔绝。他病得很厉害，对什么都不感兴趣。当他终于能起身下床，虚弱无力地在镇子里走动的时候，他发现周围的人和事都发生了变化，变得压抑了。镇上有过一次“信仰复兴会”，所有的人都“信主”了，不仅是大人，男孩和女孩也不例外。汤姆到处走走，在绝望之中希望能看见哪怕一个被上帝放过的邪恶的面孔，结果处处使他失望。他发现乔·哈帕正在啃《圣经》，便难过地避开了这一扫兴场景。接着他找到了本·罗杰斯，发现他正手提一篮布道的小册子去看望穷人们。他又找到了吉姆·荷利斯，后者提醒他要从最近得的麻疹中汲取宝贵的教训。每遇到一个孩子，他的沉闷就多添一分。最后，百无聊赖之际，他去知交哈克贝利·费恩那儿寻求安慰，想不到他也引用《圣经》上的一段话来迎接他。汤姆沮丧透顶，悄悄溜回家里，躺在床上，意识到全镇人中，唯有他永远、永远地成了一只“迷途的羔羊”。
就在当夜，刮来了一场可怕的暴风，大雨滂沱，电闪雷呜，令人耳聩目弦。汤姆用床单蒙着头，心惊胆寒地等待着自己的末日来临。因为他一点也不怀疑，所有这一切狂风骤雨都是冲着他来的。他深信是他惹翻了上帝，使他怒不可遏，瞧，现在报应来了！在他看来，像这般用一排大炮来歼灭一只小虫，似乎有点小题大作，而且也未免太浪费弹药。但要彻底铲除像他这样的一条害虫，又似乎怎么都不为过。
后来，暴风雨精疲力尽，未达目的即告休兵。这孩子的第一个冲动就是谢天谢地，准备脱胎换骨，走向新岸。第二个冲动是等待——因为兴许今后不会再有暴风雨了呢。
第二天，医生们又来了；汤姆的病又犯了。这一次，他在床上躺了三周，在他看来，仿佛是整整一个世纪。当他从病床上起来的时候，回想起自身多么地凄苦，无助而寂寞，他竟然觉得未遭雷击算不上什么可喜可贺的事。他茫然地走上街头，碰到了吉姆·荷利斯在扮演法官，正在一个儿童法庭上审理一件猫儿咬死小鸟的谋杀案，被害者也在场。他还发现乔·哈帕和哈克·费恩正在一条巷子里吃偷来的甜瓜。可怜的孩子！他们——也像汤姆一样——老毛病又犯了。

《Chapter 21》
VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now -- at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school.
In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars.
The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc. -- accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used -- supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired.
A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy.
Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early.
"The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now -- original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc.
A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable.
Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it:
"In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly.
"In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!"
And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic.
Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do:
"A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA
"Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam.
"Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave -- whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tête, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!"
There were very few there who knew what "tête" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.
Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:
"A VISION
"Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene.
"At such a time,so dark,so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof,
"'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side.
She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived -- unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented."
This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it.
It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average.
Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher -- the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head -- down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate -- for the sign-painter's boy had gilded it!
That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come.
[NOTE:-- The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "prose and poetry, by a Western Lady" -- but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be.]

《第二十一章　流利的口才，老师的镀金脑袋》
暑假即将来临，向来就严厉的老师现在变得比以往任何时候都更加严厉、越发苛刻了，他目的是要全体同学在考试的那一天好好表现一番。他手中的教鞭和戒尺现在很少闲着，至少对那些年龄较小的同学可以这么说。只有最大的男孩子和１８到２０岁的年轻姑娘才不挨打。杜宾斯先生的鞭子打起来特别重。别看他头戴假发，光秃着脑袋，可他刚到中年，身上的肌肉没有一点松弛的迹象。随着“大考”的临近，他的蛮劲渐渐暴露无遗。只要学生出了差错，哪怕是微不足道的小错，他也要乘机发挥，以惩罚学生来获取快感。结果这弄得那些年龄较小的男孩子惶惶不得终日，晚上就盘算着如何进行报复。他们一有空就捣蛋，从不放过任何给老师添乱子的机会。可老师仍然我行我素，不睬他们那一套。要是孩子们成功的话，随之而来的惩罚犹如风卷残云，威风凛凛，总是以孩子们的彻底失败而告终。但他们并不甘心失败，而是聚在一起密谋，最后终于想出了一条妙计，这一定能取得辉煌胜利。他们找到了做招牌人的孩子，先让他发誓保密，然后将他们的秘密计划告诉他，请他帮忙，这真是一拍即合。原来这位老师在他家吃饭，在很多事情上已经得罪了这个孩子。过几天，老师的太太要到乡下去串门，这样他们就能顺利地实施计划。另外，每逢重要日子，老师都要喝得酩酊大醉。那孩子说大考那天晚上，等老师差不多醉倒在椅子上打盹的时候，他就“乘机下手”，然后再伺机弄醒他，催他快到学校去。
到了预定的时间，晚上８点钟，那个有趣的时刻终于来临了。
教室里灯火辉煌，挂着花环和彩带，彩带上扎着叶子和花朵。在高高的讲台上，老师像皇帝一样坐在那把大椅子里，身后就是黑板。还好他看上去不像大醉的样子。他前面有六排长凳，上面坐着镇上的要人。两边又各有三排长凳，坐的是学生家长。左前方，家长座位后面临时搭起了一个大讲台，参加晚上考试的考生全都坐在这里。一排排的小男孩被家长打扮得过了头，个个被洗得干干净净，穿得整整齐齐，让人觉得都有点不舒服。接着的是一排排大男孩，显得有些腼腆和呆板。再瞧那些小女孩和大姑娘，她们一身素装，洁白耀眼，个个穿着细麻软布做的衣服，头上插着许多装饰品，有鲜花，有粉红和蓝色相间的发带，还有老祖母传下来的各种小装饰物。她们露着胳膊站在那里，尤其显得有些局促不安。
那些没有考试任务的学生都散坐在教室里别的地方。
考试开始了。一个年龄小的男孩站起来按事先准备好的说：“大家可能没有想到，像我这年龄的孩子会到讲台上来当众演讲。”等等诸如此类的话。他边说边十分吃力地比划着，动作虽然准确，但却很生硬，生硬得像出了点故障的机器一般。他机械地鞠躬退场，获得了全场一阵热烈的鼓掌。
一个小女孩脸通红口齿不清地背诵了“玛丽有只小羊羔”等，然后十分认真地行了个屈膝礼。在博得了大家的一阵掌声后，她红着脸，高兴地坐了下来。
汤姆·索亚十分自信地走上前去，背起了那千古名篇《不自由，毋宁死》。他慷慨陈词，不时还大幅度地做着手势，
可背着背着中途就接不上了。怯场症像魔鬼一样攫住了他，他两腿发颤，似乎有窒息之感。所有在场的人确实替他捏了把汗，可没人吭一声，这让他觉得比同情他更难受。到后来，老师皱起了眉头，汤姆这下全完了。他结结巴巴要往下背诵，可过了一会，便好像只斗败的公鸡一样溜下场去。台下的人想鼓一两掌，可掌声刚起就消失了。
随后有人背诵了“那个男孩子站在燃烧的甲板上”，“亚述人走来了”等一些名篇。接下来的是朗读表演和拼写比赛。寥寥数人的拉丁语班背诵时显得无比自豪。最后晚上的黄金节目终于到了——姑娘们自己的“独创大作”。大家一个接一个走上前站在讲台边，等清完嗓子就拿出稿子（用鲜艳的缎带扎着）念起来。她们个个念得有声有色，十分卖力让人都觉得有点不自然。文章的主题都是她们的母亲和祖母们在同样场合下早已发挥过的。毫无疑问，由此可以追溯到十字军时代她们家族的母系祖先们，人人都用过这类主题，《友情论》就是其中之一。另外还有《昔日重来》、《历史上的宗教》、《梦境》、《文化的优点》、《政体比照论》、《伤感》、《孝道》、《心愿》等等。这类文章的共同特点有三个：一是无病呻吟，故作悲伤；二是堆砌词语，滥用华丽词藻；三是特别偏爱一些陈词滥调。此外，这些文章有个显著特点，也是它们的败笔之处：就是每篇文章的结尾都有一段根深蒂固的说教词，好像断尾巴的狗一样，令人难受。她们的“独创大作”不管涉及到什么内容，她们都绞尽脑汁，千方百计让人思索以便获得道德或宗教上的启示。在众目睽睽之下，这种说教虽然给人以假话的感觉，但这种风气还是消除不了，时至今日依然如故。也许只要世界存在一天，这种毫无诚意的说教就永远消灭不了。在这个国度里，有哪所学校的女生不觉得非在文章的结尾加上一段说教词不可呢？更有意思的是你会发现越是不守规矩、不太信仰宗教的那些女孩，她们的文章写的就越长、越虔诚。
得了，忠言逆耳，不说这些了。我们再接着讲“大考”的情况。朗读的第一篇文章的题目是《难道这就是生活吗？》。下面摘录一段“以飨”读者。
飞舞驰骋的想象描绘出一幅幅玫瑰色欢乐的场景。
时尚的弄潮儿沉溺于纸醉金迷，梦幻中发现自己置身于欢乐的人群，成了众人眼里的明星。她举止优雅，身穿素装长袍，翩翩起舞于欢乐的迷宫。她的眼睛最明亮，她的步伐最轻盈。
梦幻美妙，时光如梭，等待她进入天堂的时刻来临了。她的所见犹如被点化一般，似仙女下凡！每到一处，物变景更美。可时隔不久，她发现漂亮的外表徒有虚名：
曾经令她心花怒放的甜言蜜语，现在铮铮刺耳；舞厅变得平淡无奇；她身心憔悴地退出，笃信世俗之乐何以能够慰藉心灵的企求！
等等、等等诸如此类的话，朗读中，人群里爆发出一阵满意的嗡嗡声，还不时地突然低声说道：“多么美好！”“真能服人！”“朴实无华！”最后一段布道词特别令人难受，大家都巴不得早点结束。朗读刚完，全场就报以热烈的掌声。
下一个站起来的是一位身材瘦弱、性格忧郁的女孩，她脸色苍白得引人注目，那是经常服药和消化不良留下的后遗症。她朗颂了一首“诗歌”。这里节选其中两节就可以了：
密苏里少女告别阿拉巴马再见，阿拉巴马！我爱你笃深，
离别虽短暂，难舍又难分！
想到你，往事历历燃胸间，
爱怜又悲伤。
曾记否，万花丛中留下我的足迹，
德拉波斯溪旁有我朗朗的读书声；
我听过德达西的流水犹如万马奔腾，
我见过库萨山巅晨曦的分娩。
我心系百事，无悔无怨，
含泪回首，心平气缓。
我告别的是我熟悉的地方，
见我叹息的也不是异乡他客；
来到该州，我宾至如归，
可如今我将远离高山大谷。
亲爱的阿拉巴马，一旦我心灰意冷，
那时，我真的告别人寰。
在场的人没有几个理解她“真的告别人寰”的含义，不过这首诗还是令人满意的。
接着又上来一位姑娘。她黑眼睛、黑头发连皮肤也黝黑。上来后，她稍作停顿，这一停顿令人难忘。随后她一副痛苦不堪的样子，用庄严而又有节奏的语调开始念起来。
一个梦想夜色深沉，狂风肆虐，暴雨倾盆。老天爷高高在上，四周无半点星辰闪烁；炸雷滚滚，满天轰鸣，震耳欲聋。
愤怒的闪电穿过乌云，划破夜空，大有吞噬富兰克林之感。这位杰出的科学家在闪电交织的时候勇敢地放飞风筝以测电能。大风也平地而起，以助雷电群起而攻之，场面更加荒凉无比。
如此时刻，如此黑暗阴沉，我心生慈悲为众生哀叹。
“我最亲爱的朋友、老师、我的安慰者和向导——
我的悲伤中的快乐，我随着欢乐而来的福，”来到我身边。
她像浪漫的年轻画家画的伊甸园里的仙女一般，漫步在阳光下，一个朴实无华巧夺天工的绝代佳人。她步履轻盈来去无声无息。要不是她也和别的仙女一样轻抚人间，令人神奇为之震颤，她会像浮云一般让人不知不觉，消失得无影无踪。她指着外面酣战的狂风暴雨要人们想想它们各象征着什么，这时她脸上莫名其妙地顿生愁云，犹如寒冬腊月里的天气令人颤栗。
令人可怕的描述差不多用了十页稿纸，结尾仍是一段说教词，把非长老会的教徒说得一点希望都没有，这篇文章因此而获得了头奖，被认为是当天晚上最优秀的作文。镇长在颁奖时，发表了一番热情洋溢的讲话。他说这篇文章是他平生以来听到的“最美”的文章，连大演说家丹尼尔·韦伯斯特听了也会感到骄傲的。
顺便说一下，有些人过多使用“美好”两个字，爱把人生的经历比喻成“人生的一页”，这样的文章像平常一样出现了很多。
那位老师这时醉得几乎是一副和蔼可亲的样子。他推开椅子，背对着观众，开始在黑板上画美国地图，为考地理课作准备。可他的手不听使唤，结果把图画得不象样，引得大家暗地里忍俊不禁。他心里清楚大家在笑他画得不好，于是就着手修改。他擦去一些线，然后又画上，结果画得比原来的还差，大家更加肆无忌惮地笑话他。他孤注一掷，大有泰山压顶不弯腰之势，全身心地投入，准备把地图画好。他觉得大家全都盯着他看，想象着自己终于画成了一幅像样的美国图，可是下面的笑声还是不断传来，并且明显地越来越大。原来他头顶上是个阁楼，阁楼的天窗正对着老师的头顶。一只腰部系着绳子的猫从上面悬空而下，它的头和嘴被破布扎上了，出不了声。在下降的过程中，猫向上翘起身子用爪抓住绳子，然后在空中乱舞一通后向下悠来。大家的笑声越来越大。猫离那个专心作画的老师头部只有六英寸远。越来越近，越来越低，猫终于在绝望中一下子抓住了老师的假发。随即那猫连同假发一下子又窜回阁楼。老师的秃头光彩四射，因为那个做招牌人的孩子已经给他头上上了一层光。考试就此结束，孩子们报了仇，假期来临了。

《Chapter 20》
THERE was something about Aunt polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said:
"I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live -- please make up, won't you?"
The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:
"I'll thank you to keep yourself to yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again."
She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away.
poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page -- professor Somebody's Anatomy -- carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece -- a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation.
"Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at."
"How could I know you was looking at anything?"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school."
Then she stamped her little foot and said:
"Be so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!" -- and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying.
Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. presently he said to himself:
"What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl -- they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does -- ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix -- let her sweat it out!"
Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still -- because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!"
Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout -- he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle.
A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick -- something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good! -- he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost -- the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten -- the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?"
There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt.
"Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?"
A denial. Another pause.
"Joseph Harper, did you?"
Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys -- considered a while, then turned to the girls:
"Amy Lawrence?"
A shake of the head.
"Gracie Miller?"
The same sign.
"Susan Harper, did you do this?"
Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation.
"Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face -- it was white with terror] -- "did you tear -- no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] -- "did you tear this book?"
A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted -- "I done it!"
The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed -- for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either.
Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear --
"Tom, how could you be so noble!"

《第二十章　心连心，汤姆代人受过》
波莉姨妈吻汤姆的时候，态度有所变化，所以汤姆马上感到振作起来，心情轻松愉快。他上学去了。半路上在草坪巷口，他有幸碰上了贝基·撒切尔，他现在情绪好了，所以态度也来了个一百八十度大拐弯。于是他毫不犹豫地跑上前去说：
“贝基，我很抱歉，今天那样做实在对不起人。你放心，就是死了，我也不会再那样了。我们和好吧！”
贝基停下脚步，一副鄙视的样子盯着他。
“托马斯·索亚先生，你自己好自为之吧，我这先谢谢你了。我不会再跟你讲话的。”
说完，她昂起头走了。汤姆一下子被说懵了，等他转过神来要反驳一声“去你的吧，自以为是小姐”时，为时已晚。他虽然没说什么，却窝了一肚子的火。他没精打采地走进校园，心里想贝基要是个男孩子，他非得很很地揍她一顿不可。两人在随后的相遇中，汤姆说了句刺耳的话就走了，贝基也回敬了一句，这一下两人算是彻底地决裂了。盛怒之下，贝基想起了汤姆书上的墨水，她好像急不可耐，盼望着汤姆早一点受到惩罚。她本来还有点犹豫不决，说不定还想要揭发那是阿尔弗雷德·邓波尔干的坏事，可汤姆那句刺耳的话一下子打消了贝基的这个念头。
真是个可怜的姑娘，她就要大祸临头，自身难保了却一无所知。他们的老师，杜宾斯先生，虽然已到而立之年却心愿未了。他最热衷于当医生，可是贫穷却注定了他当不了别的美差，只能做一名乡村教师。他天天从讲台里拿出一本神秘的书，乘没课要讲的时候就潜心研读。平常，他总是小心翼翼地把那本书锁好。学校里那些调皮的家伙没有一个不想看下那本神秘的书，那怕瞟一眼也好，可总没有机会。至于那本书的内容，孩子们七嘴八舌，各抒己见，但都无法得到证实。讲台离门不远，贝基从旁边走过时恰好看到钥匙还在锁孔上晃悠。这可是看一上眼的好机会，千载难逢。她环顾回周，发现没有别的人在场，于是马上拿起那本书，只见扉页上写着“无名式教授解剖学”几个字。她没看出什么名堂来，于是就继续往下翻。刚一打开下一页，一张精制的彩色裸体图立即映入眼帘。与此同时，汤姆·索亚从门口进来，一眼瞥见了那张图。贝基一把抓起书想把它合上，可是不幸拦腰把那张图撕了一半。她马上把书扔进抽屉，锁上锁，又羞又恼地大哭起来。
“汤姆·索亚，你真卑鄙，偷看别人，还偷看人家正在看的东西。”
“我怎么知道你在看什么东西呢？”
“汤姆·索亚，你应该感到害臊。你会告发我的，这下我该怎么办才好呢？我要挨鞭笞了，我可从没挨过鞭笞呀！”
接着她跺着小脚说：
“你想耍卑鄙，那就随你的便！不过，你可要出事了。你等着瞧吧！可恶，可恶，真可恶！”接着，她一顿大哭，冲出了教室。
汤姆被贝基劈头盖脸地说了一通，弄得他丈二和尚摸不着头脑，他站在那里不知所措。随后，他自言自语地说：
“女孩子真是傻得出奇。说什么从来没挨过鞭子打！呸！哪有这回事！挨打算不了什么！女孩子就是这样——脸皮薄，胆小如鼠。不过，我当然不会把这事向杜宾斯老头讲。要想和她算帐，方法有的是，用不着干这种告密的勾当。可那又怎么样呢？杜宾斯老头照样会查出来是谁干的。他问下书是谁撕的，没人答应。于是他会接照老习惯挨个地问，等问到这个女孩子，他就全明白了。女孩子总是沉不住气，表情总能说明问题。她们意志薄弱，这一回她要挨揍了。贝基呀，贝基，你这一回在劫难逃。”汤姆又仔细琢磨了一会，然后想：“得，就这样吧，你不是想看我的笑话吗，那你就傻等着瞧吧，
有你好受的。”
汤姆跑到外面和那群嬉戏的同学们玩了不一会，老师就来上课了。汤姆并不十分想学习。他只要朝女生的那边偷看上一眼，贝基的神情就会令他不安。他左思右想，就是不想同情她，但却愿意起点作用。他一点都激动不起来。汤姆很快发现了拼音课本上的墨迹，于是有一段时间，他一直不能自拔，老是想着自己的事，显得郁郁不欢。贝基这下来了劲头，对事态的发展表现出了强烈的兴趣。她想汤姆不承认是自己弄脏了书，这也不能开脱他，她的预料果然不错。结果汤姆反倒把事情给弄糟了。贝基想她会为此而感到确实高兴，但却吃不准。后来眼看着汤姆情形不妙时，她真想一古脑地站出来揭发那墨水是阿尔弗雷德·邓波尔泼的。可她又竭力控制着，强迫自己保待沉默，因为她心里想：“他会告发我，把我撕老师书的事说出去。我现在最好什么也别说，不管他的死活。”
汤姆挨了鞭笞，回到座位上，但一点也不伤心。他想在和同学们的打闹中，他有可能不知不觉地把墨水瓶碰翻，弄脏自己的书。他否认是自己干的，一来是为了走过场；二来也是惯例；另外死也不承认自己有错，那是为了坚持原则。
一个小时过去了，老师坐在他的座位上打盹，教室里一片嗡嗡的读书声令人困乏。渐渐地，杜宾斯先生挺直身子，打着哈欠，然后打开抽屉的锁，可手伸出半截又停下来，犹豫不决。大多数学生都漫不经心地抬起头看了一眼，但其中有两个人特别关注老师的一举一动。杜宾斯先生把手伸进抽屉随便地摸了一会就拿出书，身体往椅子一靠看起来。汤姆瞥了贝基一眼。她就像一只被猎人追捕的兔子，当猎熗瞄准它的头部时，一副绝望无救的可怜相，他立刻忘掉了他们之间的争吵。得采取行动，马上就干，越快越好。常言说得好，急中生智，可汤姆这回却束手无策，对，就这么办。他突然来了灵感：他要冲上去，一把从老师手里抢过书，夺门而逃。可是他一走神，就这么稍一犹豫的时候，老师翻开了书。汤姆坐失了良机，他十分后悔。这下完了，干什么也来不及了，想帮的忙也帮不上了。老师打开书后马上面朝大家。见老师盯着他们，大家都低下了头，就连没有犯错误的同学也都吓得不得了。大约有十秒钟，教室里一片寂静。老师的气是越来越大，他终于开了腔：
“这书是谁撕的？”
教室里鸦雀无声，静的连根针掉到地上都能听见。老师见无人应答，就挨个检查，看到底是谁撕了书。
“本杰明·罗杰斯，书是你撕的吗？”
老师得到的是否定，他停了一会问道：
“约瑟夫·哈帕，是你干的？”
约瑟夫否认是他干的。老师不急不忙地问了这个又问那个。汤姆越来越紧张，显得烦躁不安。老师问完男生，稍加思索就转向女生。
“艾美·劳伦斯是你吗？”
她同样也摇了摇头。
“苏珊·哈帕，是你干的吗？”
又是一个否认。下一个就该问到贝基·撒切尔了。汤姆十分紧张，他意识到情况不妙，吓得他从头到脚全身发抖。“瑞贝卡·撒切尔”（贝基的学名），”（汤姆向她脸上瞟了一眼，见她吓得脸色苍白）——“是你撕……不，看着我的眼睛。”（她承认地举起手来）——“是你撕坏了这本书吗？”
这时，汤姆的脑海里雷电般闪出一个念头，他猛然起身，大声说道：“是我干的！”全班同学迷惑不解地盯着汤姆，觉得他行为愚蠢，令人不可思议。汤姆站了一会好像是在镇定自己，然后走上前去接受惩罚。汤姆发现那个可怜的姑娘贝基眼里先是流露出吃惊，然后是感激，最后是敬慕之情，他觉得为此就是挨上一百鞭也是值得的。汤姆也为自己的义举感到脸上有光，因此在遭受杜宾斯先生有史以来最严酷的鞭笞时，他哼都没哼一声，另外放学后，他还得被罚站两小时。对这一残忍的做法，他也不在乎，因为他心里有数，外面会有个人心甘情愿地一直在等上他两个小时。
当天晚上，汤姆临上床睡觉前合计着如何报复阿尔弗雷德·邓波尔。贝基把自己的背叛以及泼墨水的事情全盘托出了。可是不久，汤姆的思绪转到一些美滋滋的事情上。想着想着，汤姆耳边朦朦胧胧地响起了贝基刚才说过的一句话：“汤姆，你思想怎么会这样高尚的呀！”就这样，他终于进入了梦乡。

《Chapter 19》
TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market:
"Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!"
"Auntie, what have I done?"
"Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word."
This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said:
"Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it -- but I didn't think."
"Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow."
"Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night."
"What did you come for, then?"
"It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded."
"Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did -- and I know it, Tom."
"Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie -- I wish I may never stir if I didn't."
"Oh, Tom, don't lie -- don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse."
"It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving -- that was all that made me come."
"I'd give the whole world to believe that -- it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?"
"Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum."
"What bark?"
"The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you -- I do, honest."
The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes.
"Did you kiss me, Tom?"
"Why, yes, I did."
"Are you sure you did, Tom?"
"Why, yes, I did, auntie -- certain sure."
"What did you kiss me for, Tom?"
"Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry."
The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said:
"Kiss me again, Tom! -- and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more."
The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself:
"No, I don't dare. poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it -- but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord -- I know the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look."
She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie -- it's a good lie -- I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!"

《第十九章　汤姆花言巧语，姨妈慈悲心肠》
汤姆闷闷不乐地回到家里。姨妈一见他就数落了他一通，他感到就是回家也不一定能减轻他的苦楚。
“汤姆呀，汤姆，我想活剥了你！”
“姨妈，我怎么了？”
“瞧，你作得够呛。都是因为你，我呆头呆脑地跑去找赛伦尼·哈帕，像个老傻瓜似的，指望能让她相信你编的那个鬼梦。可是你瞧，她早就从乔那里了解到那天晚上你回过家，听见了我们所说的一切。汤姆，我不知道像你这样的孩子将来会怎么样。都是因为你，我才到赛伦尼·哈帕那儿去，出尽了洋相。一想到这，我就很伤心。”
汤姆没想到事情会闹到这种地步。他本以为早上耍的小聪明只是玩笑，很有独创性，可现在看来那既卑鄙又可耻。他先是垂下头，无言以对，然后开口说：
“姨妈，我希望那不是我干的，不过我没想到……”
“是的，孩子，你从来不动脑筋，只想着自己。你能想到夜里从杰克逊岛那么大老远地跑来幸灾乐祸；你能想到编梦撒谎来糊弄我，可你就想不到来告诉我们你还活着并没有死。
你知道我们当时是多么伤心吗？”
“姨妈，我现在知道了，那样做太卑鄙。可是我不是存心要卑鄙的，真的，我不是存心的。还有，那天夜里我到这里来不是要来看笑话的。”
“那么，你到这里来干什么呢？”
“是来告诉你们别为我操心，因为我们并没有淹死。”
“汤姆啊，汤姆，我要是能相信你真有这么好的心肠，还替别人着想，那我可就谢天谢地啰！不过，你心里明白你是个什么样的人，这我也明白，汤姆。”
“姨妈，我可是千真万确这么打算的。我虽然扰了你，但我要不是这么打算的，我甘愿蹲大牢。”
“哦，得了吧，汤姆，不要撒谎——不要撒谎，否则事情更加糟糕，越发不可收拾。”
“我没撒谎，姨妈，我说的全是真的。我是要来让你别伤心的——我来就是为了这个。”
“汤姆，我真愿意信你的话，这样可以一肥遮百丑。你出走，捉弄我们那我反倒很高兴。可是这听起来不对劲，如果真像你所说的那样，孩子，那你为什么不先告诉我呢？”
“哎，你瞧，我听你说要给我们举行葬礼，我满心都想着要跑到教堂里躲起来，我舍不得不这么干。所以，我把树皮又放到口袋里，没有出来说。”
“什么树皮？”
“上面写着我们去当海盗的那块树皮。唉，我当时吻你的时候，你要是醒了就好了。真的，我真是这样希望的。”
姨妈绷紧的脸一下子松开了，她眼里突然闪现出慈祥的目光。
“你吻了我，汤姆？”
“是啊，我吻了。”
“你敢肯定，汤姆？”
“那还用说，我吻了，姨妈，百分之百的肯定。”
“那你为什么要吻我，汤姆？”
“因为我很爱你，当时你躺在那里哭泣，我十分难过。”
汤姆说的像是真的。老太太再说话的时候已掩饰不住激动的心情，声音颤抖地说：
“汤姆，再吻我一下！现在你可以去上学了，不要再来烦我了。”
汤姆刚一走，她就跑到橱子那里拿出汤姆当“海盗”时穿的那件破夹克，站在那儿自言自语道：
“不，我不敢看。可怜的孩子，我猜他说的是谎话——不过，这是个十足善意的谎话，令人宽慰。我希望上帝——我知道上帝一准会原谅他，因为他心眼好，才撒这样的谎。我情愿这不是谎言。我不想看。”
她放下夹克站在那里想了一会。她两次伸手想再去拿那衣服，两次又把手缩了回来。最后，她坚定了决心再次伸出手去，心里想着：“这谎撒得好，我喜欢这样的谎话，别让它坏了我的美事。”于是她翻了夹克衫上的口袋，随即她看见了那块树皮上的字，于是她老泪纵横，边流泪边说：“就算这孩子错了，哪怕是大错特错，我现在也能原谅他了。”

《Chapter 18》
THAT was Tom's great secret -- the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches.
At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt polly said:
"Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off."
"Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it."
"Would you, Tom?" said Aunt polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?"
"I -- well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything."
"Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to think of it, even if you didn't do it."
"Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way -- he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything."
"More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and done it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little."
"Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom.
"I'd know it better if you acted more like it."
"I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?"
"It ain't much -- a cat does that much -- but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?"
"Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him."
"Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us."
"And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here."
"Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?"
"Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now."
"Well, try to recollect -- can't you?"
"Somehow it seems to me that the wind -- the wind blowed the -- the --"
"Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!"
Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said:
"I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!"
"Mercy on us! Go on, Tom -- go on!"
"And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door --'"
"Go on, Tom!"
"Just let me study a moment -- just a moment. Oh, yes -- you said you believed the door was open."
"As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!"
"And then -- and then -- well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and -- and --"
"Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?"
"You made him -- you -- Oh, you made him shut it."
"Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell me there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around this with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!"
"Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than -- than -- I think it was a colt, or something."
"And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!"
"And then you began to cry."
"So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then --"
"Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self --"
"Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying -- that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!"
"Then Sid he said -- he said --"
"I don't think I said anything," said Sid.
"Yes you did, Sid," said Mary.
"Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?"
"He said -- I think he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes --"
"There, d'you hear that! It was his very words!"
"And you shut him up sharp."
"I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There was an angel there, somewheres!"
"And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about peter and the painkiller --"
"Just as true as I live!"
"And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went."
"It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!"
"Then I thought you prayed for me -- and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead -- we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips."
"Did you, Tom, did you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains.
"It was very kind, even though it was only a -- dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly.
"Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again -- now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom -- take yourselves off -- you've hendered me long enough."
The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "pretty thin -- as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!"
What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus.
At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners -- but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached.
Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her -- she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. presently she gave over sky-larking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow -- with sham vivacity:
"Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?"
"I did come -- didn't you see me?"
"Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?"
"I was in Miss peters' class, where I always go. I saw you."
"Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic."
"Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?"
"My ma's going to let me have one."
"Oh, goody; I hope she'll let me come."
"Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you."
"That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?"
"By and by. Maybe about vacation."
"Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?"
"Yes, every one that's friends to me -- or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it."
"Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller.
"Yes."
"And me?" said Sally Rogers.
"Yes."
"And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?"
"Yes."
And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what she'd do.
At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple -- and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered.
Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain -- the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things -- and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it.
"Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and --"
And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy -- pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction.
Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away.
Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said:
"Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!"
So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done -- for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning –and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth -- the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page.
Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain.

《第十八章　汤姆托梦骗姨妈，贝基借故寻报复》
这就是汤姆最大的秘密计划——和他的海盗帮兄弟们一同回家，出席自己的葬礼。星期六黄昏的时候，他们坐在一块大木头上，顺流而漂，漂到密苏里河的另一边，在离小镇下游五六英里的地方上了岸。他们在镇外的树林子里睡了一觉，醒来时，天已快亮。然后他们悄悄地穿过僻静的胡同和小巷，溜进教堂的长廊。那儿堆满了乱七八糟的破凳子。他们又接着睡，一觉睡到了大天亮。
星期一早晨吃早饭的时候，波莉姨妈和玛丽对汤姆非常亲近。他要什么都满足他，大家的话也比平常多得多。谈话中，波莉姨妈说：
“喂，汤姆，要我说你这个玩笑开得很好，你们几个为了开开心却让我们大家受了几乎一个星期的罪。你不该那么狠心，让我也跟着吃苦头。你既然能够坐在大木头上来参加自己的葬礼，那你为什么就不能给我点暗示，说明你是出走而不是死了呢？”
“是呀，汤姆，姨妈说得对，”玛丽接上说，“我想你要是想到这一点，你一定会那样做的。”
“你会不会，汤姆？”波莉姨妈问，脸上一副渴望的神情。
“你说呀，要是你想到了，你会不会那样做呢？”
“我——呃，我说不准，要是那样的话，会坏事的。”“汤姆，我原来以为你很把我放在心上。”波莉姨妈说，她那悲伤的语调使汤姆深感不安。“你以前要是还想到这一点，就算没办到，那也是很不错的了。”
“哦，姨妈，别这么想，那没什么关系，”玛丽向着汤姆对姨妈说，“汤姆就是这样子，毛手毛脚的，做事总是匆匆忙忙，从不考虑什么后果。”
“那就更不应该。要是换了希德，那就不一样了，他会来告诉我的。汤姆，有朝一日当你回想往事的时候，你会后悔的：后悔当初不该这样不把我放在心上。这事对你是无所谓。”
“噢，姨妈，你晓得我真地爱你的。”汤姆说。
“你要是不光这么说，而且还能做到，我就会更相信你了。”
“现在我希望当时真地那么想过，”汤姆后悔地说，“不过我在梦里梦见过你呀，这不也够可以的吗，对不对？”
“这算什么——连猫也会梦见我的——不过话说回来了，这总比没梦见过我的好。你梦见我什么了？”
“噢，是这样的，星期三夜里，我梦见你坐在那个床边，希德靠木箱坐着，玛丽离他不远。”
“没错，我们当时是那样坐的。我们常是这样坐法。我很高兴你在梦里也为我们这么操心。”
“我还梦见乔·哈帕的妈妈也在这里。”
“嗳呀，她是来过！还有呢？”
“噢，多着呢，不过现在记不大清楚了。”
“那么，尽量回想一下行不行？”
“我记得好像风——风吹灭了——吹灭了——”
“好好想一想，汤姆！风的确吹灭了什么东西，说呀！”
汤姆把手指放在脑门上，一副很着急的样子。他想了一会说：
“我想起来了！风吹灭了蜡烛！”
“我的天哪！太对了！接着说，汤姆——再接着说！”
“我记得好像你说了，嗐，我想那门……”
“往下说，汤姆！”
“让我稍微回想一下——别着急。哦，对了，你说你想门是开着的。”
“我当时就像现在这样坐在这儿，我确实说过！对吧，玛丽！汤姆往下说！”
“后来……后来……后来发生的事，我有点吃不准。不过我仿佛记得你让希德去……去……。”
“去哪儿？说呀？汤姆，我让他去干什么？他去干什么？”
“你让他……你……哦，你让他去关上门。”
“啊，我的天哪！我活了大半辈子都没听说有这样的怪事！现在我明白了梦不全是假的。我这就去跟赛伦尼·哈帕（乔的母亲）讲，让她来解释解释这个。她一贯不相信迷信，这回看她还有什么说的。再接着往下说，汤姆！”
“哦，现在全想起来了。后来，你说我不坏，不过是淘气罢了。有点浮躁，冒冒失失的。你还说我是个毛头孩子（我想你是这么说的），没一点坏心眼儿。”
“一字不差！哦，天哪！接着讲，汤姆！”
“接着你就哭了。”
“我是哭了。我哭了，那已经是常事了。那后来呢？”
“后来哈帕夫人也哭了起来。她说乔也是和我一样的孩子，她后悔不该为奶酪的事，用鞭子抽打他。其实是她自己把奶酪倒掉了——”
“汤姆，你真神了！你的梦就是预言！”
“后来希德他说——他说……”
“我记得我当时好像没说什么。”希德说。
“不，希德，你说了。”玛丽说。
“你俩住嘴，让汤姆往下说！他说什么了，汤姆？”
“他说——我觉得他是这样说的：他希望我在另一个世界里，过得更舒服些，不过要是我从前某些方面表现得更好些……”
“瞧，你们听见了吧！当时他正是这么说的！”
“还有，你让他闭嘴。”
“我的确这样讲了！这事一定有个高手在帮你的忙。一定有个高手在暗地里帮你的忙！”
“哈帕夫人还把乔放爆竹吓着她的事讲了一遍，你就讲了彼得和止痛药……”
“真是千真万确！”
“后来你们还谈论了很多事情，讲了到河里打捞我们，讲了星期日举行丧礼，后来你和哈帕夫人抱在一起哭了一场，最后她离开走了。”
“事情经过确实如此！确实如此，就像我现在坐在这里一样，一点也不差。汤姆，即使亲眼见过的人，说的也不过如此了！那么后来呢？继续说，汤姆！”
“我记得后来你为我做了祈祷——我能看见，还能听见你所说的每个字。你上床睡觉了，我感到非常难过，于是拿出一块梧桐树皮，在上面写道：‘我们没有死，只是去当海盗了。’还把它放在桌子上的蜡烛旁边；后来你躺在那儿睡着了，看上去没有什么异样。我走过去，弯下腰来，吻了你的嘴唇。”
“是吗，汤姆，是吗！为了这一点，我会原谅你一切过错的！”于是她一把搂住这个小家伙，这一搂反而使他感到自己就像一个罪恶深重的小混蛋。
“虽然这只是一个——梦，倒也不错。”希德自言自语，声音小得刚好能听见。
“闭上嘴，希德！一个人梦有所思，日有所为。汤姆，这是我特意为你留的大苹果，打算要是能找到你，就给你吃——现在去上学吧。你终于回来了，我感谢仁慈的圣父。凡是相信他，听他话的人，上帝一定会对他们大发慈悲。不过天知道我是不配的。不过要是只有配受他爱护的人才能得到他的保佑，由他帮助渡过灾难，那就没有几个人能在临死前，能从容微笑，或是到主那里去安息了。走吧，希德、玛丽，还有汤姆——快走吧——你们耽误了我很长时间。”
孩子们动身上学去了，老太太就去我哈帕太太，想以汤姆那个活生生的梦来说服哈帕太太，梦有时也能成真。希德离开家的时候，对汤姆所讲的心中已有了数。不过，他并没有说出来，那就是：“这不可信——那么长的一个梦，居然没有一点差错！”
瞧，汤姆现在可神气了，他成了英雄。他一改往日的蹦蹦跳跳，走路时，腰板挺直，俨然一副受人注目的海盗相。是的，他从人群中走过时，既不看他们一眼，也不理睬他们说什么，把他们全不当一回事，小家伙们成群结队跟在他身后，并以此为荣。汤姆也不介意，仿佛自己成了游行队伍中的鼓手或是进城表演的马戏团中的领头那样受人注目。与他同龄的伙伴们表面上装着根本不知道他曾走失过那回事，但心里却忌妒得要命。他们要是也能像这个鬼东西那样，皮肤被晒得黝黑，又如此受人仰目，那死也眠目，但就是拿马戏团来换，汤姆一样也不愿让给他们。
在学校里从孩子们羡慕的眼神里可以看出汤姆和乔简直被人给捧上了天。不久，这两位“英雄”就开始翘尾巴，别人只好强忍着。于是他俩就向那些如饥似渴的“听众”讲起了他们冒险的经历。可刚一开头，他们就不往下讲，因为他们富于想象力，不时添油加醋，你想故事能有结束的时候吗？到后来，他们拿出烟斗，不急不忙地抽着烟，四处踱着步。这时，他们的神气劲达得了登峰造极的地步。
汤姆横下一条心，没有贝基·撒切尔他也行。只要有荣耀就有一切，他愿为荣耀而活着。既然现在他出了名，或许她会要求重新和好。不过，那是她的事，她会发现他现在根本不在乎了。不久，她来了。汤姆装着没看见她，跑到另一群男女孩子们中间说起话来。他很快发现她脸通红，来回走个不停，四处张望，好像是在追逐同学们，追上一个就笑着大叫一声，乐乐呵呵的。可是他还注意到她总在他的附近抓人，每抓到一个，都好像有意向他这边瞟上一眼。汤姆那不可告人的虚荣心全得到了满足，这下他更觉得自己是个人物了，因此对她越是不动声色，视而不见。她不再嘻戏了，只是犹犹豫豫地走来走去。她叹了一口气，闷闷不乐地看着汤姆，见他只和艾美·劳伦斯一人讲话，不理睬别的人。她立即感到极度悲伤，变得烦躁不安。她想走开，可两脚不听使唤，身不由己地来到了同学们一边。她装着满不在乎的样子对离汤姆十分近的那个女孩说：
“哟，是玛丽·奥斯汀呀！你这个坏家伙，干吗没去主日学校？”
“我去了——你没见我去吗？”
“不错，没看见。你去了？那你坐在什么地方？”
“我一惯在彼得小姐那一班。不过，我当时倒看见你在那儿。”
“是吗？真有趣，我居然没看见你。我原想告诉你野餐的事情。”
“啊，太捧了。谁来操办呢？”
“我妈打算让我来。”
“噢，好极了，我希望她会让我参加。”
“嗯，她会的。野餐是为我举办的。我爱叫谁，她都愿意。我爱叫你来，她当然愿意喽。”“棒极了。什么时候办呀？”
“要不了多久，也许放假就办。”
“好，这太有意思了！你打算请所有的男女同学吗？”
“对，凡是我的朋友，我都请。还有想和我交朋友的人，我也请。”说完，她偷偷瞥了一眼汤姆，可是他正跟艾美·劳伦斯讲岛上那场可怕的暴风雨的故事：当时一道闪电划破长空，把那棵大梧桐树“劈成碎片”，而他自己站得离那棵大梧桐树还“不到三英尺远”。
“喂，我能参加吗？”格雷赛·米勒说。
“能。”
“还有我呐？”莎丽·罗杰问。
“你也能。”
“我也能吗？”苏赛·哈帕问道，“乔呢？”
“都能去。”
就这样，除汤姆和艾美以外，所有的孩子都高兴地拍着手，要求贝基请他们参加野餐。汤姆冷冰冰地转身带着艾美走了，边走边和她谈着。见到这情景，贝基气得嘴唇发抖，泪往上涌。她强装笑脸，不让别人看出有什么异样来，继续聊着。可是野餐的事现在失去了意义，一切都黯然失色。她马上跑开，找了一个无人的地方，照她们的说法“痛哭了一场”。由于自尊心受到了伤害，她闷闷不乐地坐在那里，一直坐到上课铃响，这时，她站起身来，瞪大眼睛，一副复仇的样子，把辫子往后一甩说：有他好看的。
课间休息的时候，汤姆继续和艾美逗乐，一副得意洋洋、心满意足的样子。他走来窜去想让贝基看见，以此来激怒她，伤她的心。最后，他终于在教室后面找到她。可他却像泄了气的皮球似的，情绪一落千丈。原来，贝基正舒舒服服地坐在一条小板凳上和阿尔费雷德·邓波儿一起在看画书。他们看得聚精会神，头也凑得很近，仿佛世上只有他俩存在。嫉妒的火焰在汤姆身上燃烧起来。他开始憎恨自己，骂自己是个傻瓜，白白放弃了贝基给他言归于好的机会。凡是能骂自己的话，他都派上了用场。他又急又气，直想放声大哭一场。而艾美此时却很开心，边走边快快活活地聊着。汤姆一句也听不进去，只是默默无语地往前走。艾美有时停下来，等他答话，他很尴尬，答得总是前言不对后语，不管问他什么，回答都是是的，是的。他忍不住一次又一次地走到教室后面，看见那可恨的一幕，气得他眼球都要掉了出来。更让他发疯的是贝基·撒切尔根本就没有把他放在眼里，不知道世上还有他这个大活宝（他是这么想的）。实际上贝基已发现他来了，她知道这次较量中自己赢了，见现在轮到汤姆受罪，她十分高兴。
艾美兴高采烈地叽叽喳喳说个不停，汤姆感到无法忍受。他暗示自己有事要办，而且时间不等人，必须马上就去做；可那个姑娘根本没明白过来，还是照讲不停。汤姆想：“哎，该死的，怎么老是缠着我不放。”到后来他非走不可了，可她仍是糊里糊涂，还说什么她会来“等他”。于是汤姆只得匆匆地悻悻离去。
汤姆咬牙切齿地想：“要是城里别的孩子那也就算了，可偏碰上圣路易斯来的这个自以为聪明的花花公子。那又怎么样，你刚一踏上这块土地，我不就揍了你一顿吗？只要让我逮住，你还得挨揍，那我可就……”
于是他拳打脚踢，平空乱舞一通，仿佛正在打那个孩子，挖他的眼睛。“我揍你，我揍你，不叫求饶！我要让你记住这个教训。”这场想象的打斗以对方失败而告终，汤姆感到心满意足。
中午时分，汤姆溜回家。有两件事让他很头疼：一是艾美的欢乐，他受不了她的纠缠；二是教室后面的那一幕，嫉妒让他再也不能经受别的打击了。贝基继续和阿尔费雷德看画书，时间一分一秒地过去，她想看汤姆的笑话，可汤姆却没有来，她那得意的心里不免蒙上一层阴影，于是她不再沾沾自喜了，继之而来的是心情沉重。她不能集中思想，到后来又变得心情忧郁。可是希望总是落空，汤姆并没有来。最后她伤心极了，后悔自己把事情做过了头。那个可怜的阿尔弗雷德见她心不在焉就不停地大声说道：“喂，你看这一张真有趣！”
这回，她终于耐不住性子了，说：“哼，别烦我了！我不喜欢这些东西！”说完，她突然大哭起来，站起身扭头就走。
阿尔弗雷德跟在她身边想安慰她，可是她却说：
“滚开，别管我！我讨厌你！”
于是这孩子便止住了脚步，纳闷自己是不是做错了什么——因为事先说好了整个中午休息时，她都要和他一块儿看画书的——可是现在她却哭着走了。他苦思冥想来到了空荡荡的教室，感到受了羞辱，非常恼火。很快，他琢磨出了事情的缘由；原来他成了这个女孩子对汤姆·索亚发泄私愤的工具。想到这一点，他越发痛恨汤姆。他希望能找个办法既能让这家伙吃苦头又不连累自己。这时，汤姆的拼音课本跃入他的眼帘。报复的机会来了，他乐滋滋地把书翻到当天下午要学的那一课，然后把墨水泼在了上面。
阿尔弗雷德的这一举动被站在他身后窗户外面的贝基发现了，她马上不露声色地走开。她打算回家把这事告诉汤姆，他一定会感激她，然后尽释前嫌，重归于好。可到了半道上，她又改变了主意。一想起汤姆在她说野餐时的那副神气样，她心里阵阵灼热，感到无地自容。她下定决心，一来让汤姆因此受鞭笞；二来永远恨他。

《Chapter 17》
BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up.
In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized:
"Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob.
presently she stopped, and said to herself:
"It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that -- I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more."
This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls -- playmates of Tom's and Joe's -- came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!) -- and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so -- just as I am now, and as if you was him -- I was as close as that -- and he smiled, just this way -- and then something seemed to go all over me, like -- awful, you know -- and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!"
Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance:
"Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once."
But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices.
When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life."
As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit.
There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon!
Aunt polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said:
"Aunt polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck."
"And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before.
Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "praise God from whom all blessings flow -- sing! -- and put your hearts in it!"
And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life.
As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more.
Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day -- according to Aunt polly's varying moods -- than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself.

《第十七章　海盗们为自己送葬，教堂现真相》
也就是在同一个星期六的下午，镇上虽然宁静，但人们的心情却很沉重。哈帕家和波莉姨妈家都沉浸在悲哀之中，哭声不断。说实话，镇上本来已经够宁静的了，现在静得更加异乎寻常。村里的人干活时都心不在焉，也很少说话，只是长吁短叹个不停。周六似乎也成了孩子们的负担。他们做游戏时，总也提不起精神，到后来干脆不玩了。
那天下午，贝基·撒切尔在空无一人的学校操场上，愁眉苦脸地踱来踱去，心里觉得很凄凉，但找不到什么可以安慰自己的东西，于是她一边步一边喃喃自语道：
“哦，我要是再能得到那只柴架上的铜把手就好了！现在我连一件纪念他的东西都没有。”
她强忍着泪水。过了一会，她停住脚步，自言自语道：
“就是在这儿。哦，要是他再给我一次的话，我决不会像上回那样固执了，无论如何也不会再像上回那样说话了。可是他现在已经去了，我将永远、永远再也见不到他了。”
想到这里，她再也支撑不住了。于是她茫然走开，泪水顺着脸颊往下流。后来，有一大群男孩和女孩——他们曾经是汤姆和乔的伙伴——走了过来，站在那里向栅栏那边看，用虔诚的语调讲述着汤姆曾经如何干过什么事情，以及他们最后一次见到汤姆的情形。还有乔怎样说了这样和那样的小事情。（现在他们一眼就看出，这一切都充满了可怕的预兆！）在场的人个个都能讲出失踪的伙伴当时所站的确切地点，然后又补上一句：“我当时就这么站着——就像现在这样，比如你是他——我俩就这么近——他笑了，就像这样——接着我觉得浑身不对劲——就像——很吓人，你知道——我当时根本不知道是怎么回事，可现在我全明白了。”
接着他们就谁最后看见那些失踪的孩子展开一场争论。许多孩子真是苦中作乐，争着抢头功，并且提出了一些证据，被证人添油加醋地说了一番。最后公布结果时，那些被认为是最后看到过死者并和他们讲了话的幸运者便摆出一副了不起的样子，其余的人则张着嘴望着他们，羡慕得不得了。有个可怜的家伙，他没有什么值得荣耀的事情可谈，于是就想起一件往事，便无不骄傲地说道：
“哦，汤姆·索亚揍过我一回。”
可是，这并没能让他获得大家的羡慕，因为大多数的孩子都可以这么说，所以他的这句话就不大值钱了。后来这群孩子继续聊着，用敬畏的口气追述几位死去的英雄的生平事迹。
第二天上午，主日学校下课以后，教堂的大钟一反往日的样子，发出的是报丧的声音。这个星期天，镇上显得十分宁静，报丧的钟声似乎与笼罩着大地的寂静很协调。村里的人开始聚集在一起，在走廊里逗留了一小会儿，低声谈论着这件惨案。可是教堂里除了女人们走向座位时衣服发出凄惨的沙沙声外却没有人窃窃私语。谁也记不起这个小小的教堂从前什么时候也像今天这样座无虚席。后来教堂里鸦雀无声，大家静心等候了一阵才见波莉姨妈走了进来，后面跟着希德和玛丽；过了一会哈帕一家也进来了，他们都穿着深黑色的衣服。这时全场起立，连年迈的牧师也不例外。大家都恭恭敬敬地站着一直等到刚进来的那些人在前排就座后这才坐下来。接着又是一阵默哀，间歇着传来一阵阵哽噎住的抽泣声。然后牧师摊开双手，做了祷告。人们唱了一首震撼人心的圣歌，之后又念了一段颂词：“我是生命，复活是我。”丧礼上，
牧师描述了死者的美德和他们讨人喜欢的行为，以及非凡的前途。在座的人个个都暗自承认他说得对，他们以前真是有眼无珠，居然对这些熟视无睹，反倒死盯着这些可怜孩子的过错和毛病不放，心里不免感到难过。牧师还讲述了这几个孩子生前的一些感人事迹，他们天真可爱，慷慨大方。人们现在一眼就看出他们那时的行为是多么地高尚，令人赞美。可当时这些却被认为是地道的流氓行为，人们恨不得用鞭子抽这些孩子。想到这一切，人们很难过。牧师越说越动情，在场的人也越听越受感动，都呜咽起来。牧师本人也控制不住自己的感情在布道台上哭起来。
教堂的长廊里响起一阵沙沙声，可是没有人听见。不久，教堂的门嘎吱一声开了，牧师拿开手绢，抬起泪汪汪的眼睛，站在那里呆住了！于是一双又一双的眼睛顺着牧师的视线看过去，接着全体到会者一下子都站起来，睁大眼睛看着死而复活的这三个孩子沿着过道大踏步走过来。走在前面的是汤姆，乔在中间，哈克殿后。他们刚才一直躲在那没人的长廊里，倾听着追悼他们的颂词哩！
波莉姨姨、玛丽，还有哈帕一家都一下子向这几个复活的孩子扑过去，把他们吻得透不过气来，同时倾吐了许多感恩戴德的话。而可怜的哈克却站在那里，窘迫不安，很不自在，不知道该如何是好，也不知道逃到哪里才能躲开这些不表示欢迎自己的眼光。他犹豫了一下，正打算溜走，可是汤姆抓住他，说道：
“波莉姨妈，这不公平，哈克也该受人欢迎才对。”“是的，说得有道理，我就欢迎他。他没有母亲真可怜！”
波莉姨妈的亲切关怀，反倒使他变得更加不自在。忽然牧师放开嗓音，高唱起来：“赞美上帝，保佑众生——
唱！——大家尽情地唱呀！”
大家果然热情地唱了起来。人们以饱满的热情，大声唱起了颂歌，歌声回荡在教堂上空。海盗汤姆·索亚向四周张望，发现周围的伙伴们都在羡慕他，心中暗自承认，这是他平生最得意的时刻。
当那些“受骗”的参加葬礼的人成群结对地走出教堂时，大家都说要是能像今天这样热情地唱颂歌，情愿再被捉弄一次。
那一天，汤姆不是挨耳光就是受亲吻，这全随波莉姨妈的心情变化而定。他从前一年所受的加起来也没有今天一天的多。他简直搞不清哪一种表示是对上帝的感激，哪一种是对他的爱。