prob’ly seen a good chance and turned on them at last,
and maybe they all killed each other, and so there
wasn’t anybody left to tell.
First we knowed, gabbling along that away, we was
right at the sycamores. The cold chills trickled down
my back and I wouldn’t budge another step, for all
Tom’s persuading. But he couldn’t hold in; he’d GOT
to see if the boots was safe on that body yet. So he
crope in — and the next minute out he come again with
his eyes bulging he was so excited, and says:
“Huck, it’s gone!”
I WAS astonished! I says:
“Tom, you don’t mean it.”
“It’s gone, sure. There ain’t a sign of it. The
ground is trampled some, but if there was any blood
it’s all washed away by the storm, for it’s all puddles
and slush in there.”
At last I give in, and went and took a look myself;
and it was just as Tom said — there wasn’t a sign of a
corpse.
“Dern it,” I says, “the di’monds is gone. Don’t
you reckon the thieves slunk back and lugged him off,
Tom?”
“Looks like it. It just does. Now where’d they
hide him, do you reckon?”
“I don’t know,” I says, disgusted, “and what’s
more I don’t care. They’ve got the boots, and that’s
all I cared about. He’ll lay around these woods a
long time before I hunt him up.”
Tom didn’t feel no more intrust in him neither, only
curiosity to know what come of him; but he said we’d
lay low and keep dark and it wouldn’t be long till the
dogs or somebody rousted him out.
We went back home to breakfast ever so bothered
and put out and disappointed and swindled. I warn’t
ever so down on a corpse before.
CHAPTER VIII.
TALKING WITH THE GHOST
IT warn’t very cheerful at breakfast. Aunt Sally she
looked old and tired and let the children snarl and
fuss at one another and didn’t seem to notice it was
going on, which wasn’t her usual style; me and Tom
had a plenty to think about without talking; Benny she
looked like she hadn’t had much sleep, and whenever
she’d lift her head a little and steal a look towards her
father you could see there was tears in her eyes; and
as for the old man, his things stayed on his plate and
got cold without him knowing they was there, I reckon,
for he was thinking and thinking all the time, and never
said a word and never et a bite.
By and by when it was stillest, that nigger’s head
was poked in at the door again, and he said his Marse
Brace was getting powerful uneasy about Marse Jubiter,
which hadn’t come home yet, and would Marse Silas
please —
He was looking at Uncle Silas, and he stopped there,
like the rest of his words was froze; for Uncle Silas he
rose up shaky and steadied himself leaning his fingers
on the table, and he was panting, and his eyes was set
on the nigger, and he kept swallowing, and put his
other hand up to his throat a couple of times, and at
last he got his words started, and says:
“Does he — does he — think — WHAT does he think!
Tell him — tell him –” Then he sunk down in his
chair limp and weak, and says, so as you could hardly
hear him: “Go away — go away!”
The nigger looked scared and cleared out, and we
all felt — well, I don’t know how we felt, but it was
awful, with the old man panting there, and his eyes set
and looking like a person that was dying. None of us
could budge; but Benny she slid around soft, with her
tears running down, and stood by his side, and nestled
his old gray head up against her and begun to stroke it
and pet it with her hands, and nodded to us to go
away, and we done it, going out very quiet, like the
dead was there.
Me and Tom struck out for the woods mighty