We had dinner out in that broad open passage betwixt the house and the kitchen;and there was things enough on that table for seven families—and all hot,too; none of your flabby,tough meat that’s laid in a cupboard in a damp cellar all night and tastes like a hunk of old cold cannibal in the morning. Uncle Silas he asked a pretty long blessing over it, but it was worth it; and it didn’t cool it a bit, neither, the way I’ve seen them kind of interruptions do lots of times. There was a considerable good deal of talk all the afternoon, and me and Tom was on the lookout all the time; but it warn’t no use, they didn’t happen to say nothing about any runaway nigger, and we was afraid to try to work up to it. But at supper, at night, one of the little boys says:
“Pa, mayn’t Tom and Sid and me go to the show?”
“No,” says the old man,“I reckon there ain’t going to be any;and you couldn’t go if there was;because the runaway nigger told Burton and me all about that scandalous show,and Burton said he would tell the people;so I reckon they’ve drove the owdacious loafers out of town before this time. ”
So there it was!—but _I_ couldn’t help it.Tom and me was to sleep in the same room and bed; so,being tired, we bid good-night and went up to bed right after supper,and clumb out of the window and down the lightning-rod,and shoved for the town;for I didn’t believe anybody was going to give the king and the duke a hint,and so if I didn’t hurry up and give them one they’d get into trouble sure.
On the road Tom he told me all about how it was reckoned I was murdered,and how pap disappeared pretty soon,and didn’t come back no more,and what a stir there was when Jim run away;and I told Tom all about our Royal Nonesuch rapscallions,and as much of the raft voyage as I had time to;and as we struck into the town and up through the middle of it—it was as much as half-after eight, then—here comes a raging rush of people with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke astraddle of a rail—that is, I knowed it _was_ the king and the duke, though they was all over tar and feathers, and didn’t look like nothing in the world that was human—just looked like a couple of monstrous big soldier-plumes. Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn’t ever feel any hardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing to see. Human beings _can_ be awful cruel to one another.
We see we was too late—couldn’t do no good.We asked some stragglers about it,and they said everybody went to the show looking very innocent;and laid low and kept dark till the poor old king was in the middle of his cavortings on the stage; then somebody give a signal, and the house rose up and went for them.
So we poked along back home,and I warn’t feeling so brash as I was before,but kind of ornery, and humble, and to blame,somehow—though _I_ hadn’t done nothing.But that’s always the way;it don’t make no difference whether you do right or wrong,a person’s conscience ain’t got no sense,and just goes for him _anyway_.If I had a yaller dog that didn’t know no more than a person’s conscience does I would pison him. It takes up more room than all the rest of a person’s insides, and yet ain’t no good, nohow. Tom Sawyer he says the same.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
We stopped talking, and got to thinking. By-and-by Tom says:
“Looky here, Huck, what fools we are to not think of it before!I bet I know where Jim is.”
“No!Where?”
“In that hut down by the ash-hopper. Why, looky here.When we was at dinner,didn’t you see a nigger man go in there with some vittles?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think the vittles was for?”
“For a dog.”
“So’d I. Well, it wasn’t for a dog.”
“Why?”
“Because part of it was watermelon.”
“So it was—I noticed it. Well,it does beat all that I never thought about a dog not eating watermelon.It shows how a body can see and don’t see at the same time. ”
“Well, the nigger unlocked the padlock when he went in,and he locked it again when he came out.He fetched uncle a key about the time we got up from table—same key,I bet. Watermelon shows man, lock shows prisoner;and it ain’t likely there’s two prisoners on such a little plantation,and where the people’s all so kind and good.Jim’s the prisoner.All right—I’m glad we found it out detective fashion;I wouldn’t give shucks for any other way.Now you work your mind,and study out a plan to steal Jim,and I will study out one, too;and we’ll take the one we like the best.”
What a head for just a boy to have!If I had Tom Sawyer’s head I wouldn’t trade it off to be a duke,nor mate of a steamboat, nor clown in a circus,nor nothing I can think of.I went to thinking out a plan,but only just to be doing something;I knowed very well where the right plan was going to come from.Pretty soon Tom says:
“Ready?”
“Yes,” I says.
“All right—bring it out.”
“My plan is this,” I says.“We can easy find out if it’s Jim in there.Then get up my canoe to-morrow night,and fetch my raft over from the island.Then the first dark night that comes steal the key out of the old man’s britches after he goes to bed, and shove off down the river on the raft with Jim, hiding daytimes and running nights, the way me and Jim used to do before. Wouldn’t that plan work?”
“_Work?_ Why, cert’nly it would work, like rats a-fighting.But it’s too blame’ simple;there ain’t nothing _to_ it.What’s the good of a plan that ain’t no more trouble than that?It’s as mild as goose-milk. Why, Huck,it wouldn’t make no more talk than breaking into a soap factory. ”
I never said nothing,because I warn’t expecting nothing different;but I knowed mighty well that whenever he got _his_ plan ready it wouldn’t have none of them objections to it.
And it didn’t. He told me what it was,and I see in a minute it was worth fifteen of mine for style,and would make Jim just as free a man as mine would,and maybe get us all killed besides.So I was satisfied, and said we would waltz in on it.I needn’t tell what it was here,because I knowed it wouldn’t stay the way, it was.I knowed he would be changing it around every which way as we went along,and heaving in new bullinesses wherever he got a chance.And that is what he done.
Well, one thing was dead sure,and that was that Tom Sawyer was in earnest,and was actuly going to help steal that nigger out of slavery.That was the thing that was too many for me.Here was a boy that was respectable and well brung up;and had a character to lose;and folks at home that had characters;and he was bright and not leather-headed;and knowing and not ignorant; and not mean, but kind;and yet here he was, without any more pride,or rightness, or feeling,than to stoop to this business,and make himself a shame, and his family a shame,before everybody. I _couldn’t_ understand it no way at all.It was outrageous, and I knowed I ought to just up and tell him so;and so be his true friend,and let him quit the thing right where he was and save himself.And I _did_ start to tell him; but he shut me up, and says:
“Don’t you reckon I know what I’m about?Don’t I generly know what I’m about?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t I _say_ I was going to help steal the nigger?”
“Yes.”
“_Well_, then.”
That’s all he said, and that’s all I said.It warn’t no use to say any more;because when he said he’d do a thing,he always done it. But _I_ couldn’t make out how he was willing to go into this thing; so I just let it go, and never bothered no more about it. If he was bound to have it so, _I_ couldn’t help it.