Page 53 of 65
“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.
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 downtown 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 tomorrow morning!”
