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.
CHAPTER XXXII
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!