Professional Documents
Culture Documents
of Tom Sawyer
By Mark Twain
THE AUTHOR.
HARTFORD, 1876.
‘T OM!’
‘TOM!’
No answer.
No answer.
‘What’s gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!’
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over
them about the room; then she put them up and looked
out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH
them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair,
the pride of her heart, and were built for ‘style,’ not service
— she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as
well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not
fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
‘Well, I lay if I get hold of you I’ll —‘
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down
and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she
needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resur-
rected nothing but the cat.
‘I never did see the beat of that boy!’
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out
among the tomato vines and ‘jimpson’ weeds that consti-
tuted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an
angle calculated for distance and shouted:
Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro’ BLOOD-
y seas?
He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church ‘so-
A FTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for tur-
tle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into
the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down
on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they
would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were per-
fectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English
walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and
another on Friday morning.
After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on
the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding
clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then contin-
ued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against
the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under
them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And
now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water
in each other’s faces with their palms, gradually approach-
ing each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling
sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man
ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tan-
gle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering,
laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time.
When they were well exhausted, they would run out and
sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover them-
selves up with it, and by and by break for the water again
‘A VISION
A BOUT 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, nei-
ther. 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
T HAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adven-
ture. 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 tav-
ern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went
home with the understanding that if a considerable de-
gree 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 Wednes-
day. 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 sug-
ar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight
the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones there-
abouts) 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 in-
terrupted 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