“Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?”
Tom glanced at Injun Joe’s iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear:
“In the graveyard!”
“A little bit louder, please. Don’t be afraid. You were — ”
“In the graveyard.”
A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe’s face.
“Were you anywhere near Horse Williams’ grave?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Speak up — just a trifle louder. How near were you?”
“Near as I am to you.”
“Were you hidden, or not?”
“I was hid.”
“Where?”
“Behind the elms that’s on the edge of the grave.”
Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start.
“Any one with you?”
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“Yes, sir. I went there with — ”
“Wait — wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion’s name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you.”
Tom hesitated and looked confused.
“Speak out, my boy — don’t be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?”
“Only a — a — dead cat.”
There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked.
“We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred — tell it in your own way — don’t skip anything, and don’t be afraid.”
Tom began — hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said:
” — and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and — ”
Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone!
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Chapter XXIV
TOM was a glittering hero once more — the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging.
As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world’s credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it.
Tom’s days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe’s flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but
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what of that? Since Tom’s harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer’s house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck’s confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated.
Daily Muff Potter’s gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue.
Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse.
Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he “found a clew.” But you can’t hang a “clew” for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before.