by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXXIII.
SO I started for town in the wagon, and when I was half-way I see awagon coming, and sure enough it was Tom Sawyer, and I stopped andwaited till he come along. ?I says "Hold on!" and it stopped alongside,and his mouth opened up like a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowedtwo or three times like a person that's got a dry throat, and then says:
"I hain't ever done you no harm. ?You know that. ?So, then, what youwant to come back and ha'nt _me_ for?"
I says:
"I hain't come back--I hain't been _gone_."
When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn't quitesatisfied yet. ?He says:
"Don't you play nothing on me, because I wouldn't on you. ?Honest injunnow, you ain't a ghost?"
"Honest injun, I ain't," I says.
"Well--I--I--well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can't somehowseem to understand it no way. ?Looky here, warn't you ever murdered _atall?_"
"No. ?I warn't ever murdered at all--I played it on them. ?You come inhere and feel of me if you don't believe me."
So he done it; and it satisfied him; and he was that glad to see meagain he didn't know what to do. ?And he wanted to know all about itright off, because it was a grand adventure, and mysterious, and so ithit him where he lived. ?But I said, leave it alone till by and by; andtold his driver to wait, and we drove off a little piece, and I toldhim the kind of a fix I was in, and what did he reckon we better do? ?Hesaid, let him alone a minute, and don't disturb him. ?So he thought andthought, and pretty soon he says:
"It's all right; I've got it. ?Take my trunk in your wagon, and let onit's your'n; and you turn back and fool along slow, so as to get to thehouse about the time you ought to; and I'll go towards town a piece, andtake a fresh start, and get there a quarter or a half an hour after you;and you needn't let on to know me at first."
I says:
"All right; but wait a minute. ?There's one more thing--a thing that_nobody_ don't know but me. ?And that is, there's a nigger here thatI'm a-trying to steal out of slavery, and his name is _Jim_--old MissWatson's Jim."
He says:
"What! ?Why, Jim is--"
He stopped and went to studying. ?I says:
"I know what you'll say. ?You'll say it's dirty, low-down business; butwhat if it is? ?I'm low down; and I'm a-going to steal him, and I wantyou keep mum and not let on. ?Will you?"
His eye lit up, and he says:
"I'll _help_ you steal him!"
Well, I let go all holts then, like I was shot. ?It was the mostastonishing speech I ever heard--and I'm bound to say Tom Sawyer fellconsiderable in my estimation. ?Only I couldn't believe it. ?Tom Sawyera _nigger-stealer!_
"Oh, shucks!" ?I says; "you're joking."
"I ain't joking, either."
"Well, then," I says, "joking or no joking, if you hear anything saidabout a runaway nigger, don't forget to remember that _you_ don't knownothing about him, and I don't know nothing about him."
Then we took the trunk and put it in my wagon, and he drove off hisway and I drove mine. ?But of course I forgot all about driving slow onaccounts of being glad and full of thinking; so I got home a heap tooquick for that length of a trip. ?The old gentleman was at the door, andhe says:
"Why, this is wonderful! ?Whoever would a thought it was in that mareto do it? ?I wish we'd a timed her. ?And she hain't sweated a hair--nota hair. It's wonderful. ?Why, I wouldn't take a hundred dollars for thathorse now--I wouldn't, honest; and yet I'd a sold her for fifteen before,and thought 'twas all she was worth."
That's all he said. ?He was the innocentest, best old soul I ever see.But it warn't surprising; because he warn't only just a farmer, he wasa preacher, too, and had a little one-horse log church down back of theplantation, which he built it himself at his own expense, for a churchand schoolhouse, and never charged nothing for his preaching, and it wasworth it, too. ?There was plenty other farmer-preachers like that, anddone the same way, down South.
In about half an hour Tom's wagon drove up to the front stile, and AuntSally she see it through the window, because it was only about fiftyyards, and says:
"Why, there's somebody come! ?I wonder who 'tis? ?Why, I do believe it'sa stranger. ?Jimmy" (that's one of the children) "run and tell Lize toput on another plate for dinner."
Everybody made a rush for the front door, because, of course, a strangerdon't come _every_ year, and so he lays over the yaller-fever, forinterest, when he does come. ?Tom was over the stile and starting forthe house; the wagon was spinning up the road for the village, and wewas all bunched in the front door. ?Tom had his store clothes on, and anaudience--and that was always nuts for Tom Sawyer. ?In them circumstancesit warn't no trouble to him to throw in an amount of style that wassuitable. ?He warn't a boy to meeky along up that yard like a sheep; no,he come ca'm and important, like the ram. ?When he got a-front of us helifts his hat ever so gracious and dainty, like it was the lid of a boxthat had butterflies asleep in it and he didn't want to disturb them,and says:
"Mr. Archibald Nichols, I presume?"
"No, my boy," says the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to say 't your driverhas deceived you; Nichols's place is down a matter of three mile more.Come in, come in."
Tom he took a look back over his shoulder, and says, "Too late--he's outof sight."
"Yes, he's gone, my son, and you must come in and eat your dinner withus; and then we'll hitch up and take you down to Nichols's."
"Oh, I _can't_ make you so much trouble; I couldn't think of it. ?I'llwalk--I don't mind the distance."
"But we won't _let_ you walk--it wouldn't be Southern hospitality to doit. Come right in."
"Oh, _do_," says Aunt Sally; "it ain't a bit of trouble to us, not abit in the world. ?You must stay. ?It's a long, dusty three mile, andwe can't let you walk. ?And, besides, I've already told 'em to put onanother plate when I see you coming; so you mustn't disappoint us. ?Comeright in and make yourself at home."
So Tom he thanked them very hearty and handsome, and let himself bepersuaded, and come in; and when he was in he said he was a strangerfrom Hicksville, Ohio, and his name was William Thompson--and he madeanother bow.
Well, he run on, and on, and on, making up stuff about Hicksville andeverybody in it he could invent, and I getting a little nervious, andwondering how this was going to help me out of my scrape; and at last,still talking along, he reached over and kissed Aunt Sally right on themouth, and then settled back again in his chair comfortable, and wasgoing on talking; but she jumped up and wiped it off with the back ofher hand, and says:
"You owdacious puppy!"
He looked kind of hurt, and says:
"I'm surprised at you, m'am."
"You're s'rp--Why, what do you reckon I am? ?I've a good notion to takeand--Say, what do you mean by kissing me?"
He looked kind of humble, and says:
"I didn't mean nothing, m'am. ?I didn't mean no harm. ?I--I--thought you'dlike it."
"Why, you born fool!" ?She took up the spinning stick, and it lookedlike it was all she could do to keep from giving him a crack with it.?"What made you think I'd like it?"
"Well, I don't know. ?Only, they--they--told me you would."
"_They_ told you I would. ?Whoever told you's _another_ lunatic. ?Inever heard the beat of it. ?Who's _they_?"
"Why, everybody. ?They all said so, m'am."
It was all she could do to hold in; and her eyes snapped, and herfingers worked like she wanted to scratch him; and she says:
"Who's 'everybody'? ?Out with their names, or ther'll be an idiotshort."
He got up and looked distressed, and fumbled his hat, and says:
"I'm sorry, and I warn't expecting it. ?They told me to. ?They all toldme to. ?They all said, kiss her; and said she'd like it. ?They all saidit--every one of them. ?But I'm sorry, m'am, and I won't do it no more--Iwon't, honest."
"You won't, won't you? ?Well, I sh'd _reckon_ you won't!"
"No'm, I'm honest about it; I won't ever do it again--til
l you ask me."
"Till I _ask_ you! ?Well, I never see the beat of it in my born days!?I lay you'll be the Methusalem-numskull of creation before ever I askyou--or the likes of you."
"Well," he says, "it does surprise me so. ?I can't make it out, somehow.They said you would, and I thought you would. ?But--" He stopped andlooked around slow, like he wished he could run across a friendly eyesomewheres, and fetched up on the old gentleman's, and says, "Didn't_you_ think she'd like me to kiss her, sir?"
"Why, no; I--I--well, no, I b'lieve I didn't."
Then he looks on around the same way to me, and says:
"Tom, didn't _you_ think Aunt Sally 'd open out her arms and say, 'SidSawyer--'"
"My land!" she says, breaking in and jumping for him, "you impudentyoung rascal, to fool a body so--" and was going to hug him, but hefended her off, and says:
"No, not till you've asked me first."
So she didn't lose no time, but asked him; and hugged him and kissedhim over and over again, and then turned him over to the old man, and hetook what was left. ?And after they got a little quiet again she says:
"Why, dear me, I never see such a surprise. ?We warn't looking for _you_at all, but only Tom. ?Sis never wrote to me about anybody coming buthim."
"It's because it warn't _intended_ for any of us to come but Tom," hesays; "but I begged and begged, and at the last minute she let mecome, too; so, coming down the river, me and Tom thought it would be afirst-rate surprise for him to come here to the house first, and for meto by and by tag along and drop in, and let on to be a stranger. ?But itwas a mistake, Aunt Sally. ?This ain't no healthy place for a strangerto come."
"No--not impudent whelps, Sid. ?You ought to had your jaws boxed; Ihain't been so put out since I don't know when. ?But I don't care, Idon't mind the terms--I'd be willing to stand a thousand such jokes tohave you here. Well, to think of that performance! ?I don't deny it, Iwas most putrified with astonishment when you give me that smack."
We had dinner out in that broad open passage betwixt the house andthe kitchen; and there was things enough on that table for sevenfamilies--and all hot, too; none of your flabby, tough meat that's laidin a cupboard in a damp cellar all night and tastes like a hunk ofold cold cannibal in the morning. ?Uncle Silas he asked a pretty longblessing over it, but it was worth it; and it didn't cool it a bit,neither, the way I've seen them kind of interruptions do lots of times.?There was a considerable good deal of talk all the afternoon, and meand Tom was on the lookout all the time; but it warn't no use, theydidn't happen to say nothing about any runaway nigger, and we was afraidto try to work up to it. ?But at supper, at night, one of the littleboys says:
"Pa, mayn't Tom and Sid and me go to the show?"
"No," says the old man, "I reckon there ain't going to be any; and youcouldn't go if there was; because the runaway nigger told Burton andme all about that scandalous show, and Burton said he would tell thepeople; so I reckon they've drove the owdacious loafers out of townbefore this time."
So there it was!--but I couldn't help it. ?Tom and me was to sleep in thesame room and bed; so, being tired, we bid good-night and went up tobed right after supper, and clumb out of the window and down thelightning-rod, and shoved for the town; for I didn't believe anybody wasgoing to give the king and the duke a hint, and so if I didn't hurry upand give them one they'd get into trouble sure.
On the road Tom he told me all about how it was reckoned I was murdered,and how pap disappeared pretty soon, and didn't come back no more, andwhat a stir there was when Jim run away; and I told Tom all about ourRoyal Nonesuch rapscallions, and as much of the raft voyage as I hadtime to; and as we struck into the town and up through the the middle ofit--it was as much as half-after eight, then--here comes a raging rush ofpeople with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tinpans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by;and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke astraddle of arail--that is, I knowed it _was_ the king and the duke, though they wasall over tar and feathers, and didn't look like nothing in theworld that was human--just looked like a couple of monstrous bigsoldier-plumes. ?Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry forthem poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn't ever feel anyhardness against them any more in the world. ?It was a dreadful thing tosee. ?Human beings _can_ be awful cruel to one another.
We see we was too late--couldn't do no good. ?We asked some stragglersabout it, and they said everybody went to the show looking veryinnocent; and laid low and kept dark till the poor old king was in themiddle of his cavortings on the stage; then somebody give a signal, andthe house rose up and went for them.
So we poked along back home, and I warn't feeling so brash as I wasbefore, but kind of ornery, and humble, and to blame, somehow--thoughI hadn't done nothing. ?But that's always the way; it don't make nodifference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain'tgot no sense, and just goes for him anyway. ?If I had a yaller dog thatdidn't know no more than a person's conscience does I would pison him.It takes up more room than all the rest of a person's insides, and yetain't no good, nohow. ?Tom Sawyer he says the same.
