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Chapter II.
WE went tiptoeing along a path amongst the
trees back towards the end of the widow's
garden, stooping down so as the branches
wouldn't scrape our heads.
When we was passing by the kitchen I fell
over a root and made a noise.
We scrouched down and laid still.
Miss Watson's big ***, named Jim, was
setting in the kitchen door; we could see
him pretty clear, because there was a light
behind him.
He got up and stretched his neck out about
a minute, listening.
Then he says:
"Who dah?"
He listened some more; then he come
tiptoeing down and stood right between us;
we could a touched him, nearly.
Well, likely it was minutes and minutes
that there warn't a sound, and we all there
so close together.
There was a place on my ankle that got to
itching, but I dasn't scratch it; and then
my ear begun to itch; and next my back,
right between my shoulders.
Seemed like I'd die if I couldn't scratch.
Well, I've noticed that thing plenty times
since.
If you are with the quality, or at a
funeral, or trying to go to sleep when you
ain't sleepy--if you are anywheres where it
won't do for you to scratch, why you will
itch all over in upwards of a thousand
places.
Pretty soon Jim says:
"Say, who is you?
Whar is you?
Dog my cats ef I didn' hear sumf'n.
Well, I know what I's gwyne to do: I's
gwyne to set down here and listen tell I
hears it agin."
So he set down on the ground betwixt me and
Tom.
He leaned his back up against a tree, and
stretched his legs out till one of them
most touched one of mine.
My nose begun to itch.
It itched till the tears come into my eyes.
But I dasn't scratch.
Then it begun to itch on the inside.
Next I got to itching underneath.
I didn't know how I was going to set still.
This miserableness went on as much as six
or seven minutes; but it seemed a sight
longer than that.
I was itching in eleven different places
now.
I reckoned I couldn't stand it more'n a
minute longer, but I set my teeth hard and
got ready to try.
Just then Jim begun to breathe heavy; next
he begun to snore--and then I was pretty
soon comfortable again.
Tom he made a sign to me--kind of a little
noise with his mouth--and we went creeping
away on our hands and knees.
When we was ten foot off Tom whispered to
me, and wanted to tie Jim to the tree for
fun.
But I said no; he might wake and make a
disturbance, and then they'd find out I
warn't in.
Then Tom said he hadn't got candles enough,
and he would slip in the kitchen and get
some more.
I didn't want him to try.
I said Jim might wake up and come.
But Tom wanted to resk it; so we slid in
there and got three candles, and Tom laid
five cents on the table for pay.
Then we got out, and I was in a sweat to
get away; but nothing would do Tom but he
must crawl to where Jim was, on his hands
and knees, and play something on him.
I waited, and it seemed a good while,
everything was so still and lonesome.
As soon as Tom was back we cut along the
path, around the garden fence, and by and
by fetched up on the steep top of the hill
the other side of the house.
Tom said he slipped Jim's hat off of his
head and hung it on a limb right over him,
and Jim stirred a little, but he didn't
wake.
Afterwards Jim said the witches be witched
him and put him in a trance, and rode him
all over the State, and then set him under
the trees again, and hung his hat on a limb
to show who done it.
And next time Jim told it he said they rode
him down to New Orleans; and, after that,
every time he told it he spread it more and
more, till by and by he said they rode him
all over the world, and tired him most to
death, and his back was all over saddle-
boils.
Jim was monstrous proud about it, and he
got so he wouldn't hardly notice the other
***.
*** would come miles to hear Jim tell
about it, and he was more looked up to than
any *** in that country.
Strange *** would stand with their
mouths open and look him all over, same as
if he was a wonder.
*** is always talking about witches in
the dark by the kitchen fire; but whenever
one was talking and letting on to know all
about such things, Jim would happen in and
say, "Hm!
What you know 'bout witches?" and that
*** was corked up and had to take a back
seat.
Jim always kept that five-center piece
round his neck with a string, and said it
was a charm the devil give to him with his
own hands, and told him he could cure
anybody with it and fetch witches whenever
he wanted to just by saying something to
it; but he never told what it was he said
to it.
*** would come from all around there
and give Jim anything they had, just for a
sight of that five-center piece; but they
wouldn't touch it, because the devil had
had his hands on it.
Jim was most ruined for a servant, because
he got stuck up on account of having seen
the devil and been rode by witches.
Well, when Tom and me got to the edge of
the hilltop we looked away down into the
village and could see three or four lights
twinkling, where there was sick folks,
maybe; and the stars over us was sparkling
ever so fine; and down by the village was
the river, a whole mile broad, and awful
still and grand.
We went down the hill and found Jo Harper
and Ben Rogers, and two or three more of
the boys, hid in the old tanyard.
So we unhitched a skiff and pulled down the
river two mile and a half, to the big scar
on the hillside, and went ashore.
We went to a clump of bushes, and Tom made
everybody swear to keep the secret, and
then showed them a hole in the hill, right
in the thickest part of the bushes.
Then we lit the candles, and crawled in on
our hands and knees.
We went about two hundred yards, and then
the cave opened up.
Tom poked about amongst the passages, and
pretty soon ducked under a wall where you
wouldn't a noticed that there was a hole.
We went along a narrow place and got into a
kind of room, all damp and sweaty and cold,
and there we stopped.
Tom says:
"Now, we'll start this band of robbers and
call it Tom Sawyer's Gang.
Everybody that wants to join has got to
take an oath, and write his name in blood."
Everybody was willing.
So Tom got out a sheet of paper that he had
wrote the oath on, and read it.
It swore every boy to stick to the band,
and never tell any of the secrets; and if
anybody done anything to any boy in the
band, whichever boy was ordered to kill
that person and his family must do it, and
he mustn't eat and he mustn't sleep till he
had killed them and hacked a cross in their
***, which was the sign of the band.
And nobody that didn't belong to the band
could use that mark, and if he did he must
be sued; and if he done it again he must be
killed.
And if anybody that belonged to the band
told the secrets, he must have his throat
cut, and then have his carcass burnt up and
the ashes scattered all around, and his
name blotted off of the list with blood and
never mentioned again by the gang, but have
a curse put on it and be forgot forever.
Everybody said it was a real beautiful
oath, and asked Tom if he got it out of his
own head.
He said, some of it, but the rest was out
of pirate-books and robber-books, and every
gang that was high-toned had it.
Some thought it would be good to kill the
FAMILIES of boys that told the secrets.
Tom said it was a good idea, so he took a
pencil and wrote it in.
Then Ben Rogers says:
"Here's Huck Finn, he hain't got no family;
what you going to do 'bout him?"
"Well, hain't he got a father?" says Tom
Sawyer.
"Yes, he's got a father, but you can't
never find him these days.
He used to lay drunk with the hogs in the
tanyard, but he hain't been seen in these
parts for a year or more."
They talked it over, and they was going to
rule me out, because they said every boy
must have a family or somebody to kill, or
else it wouldn't be fair and square for the
others.
Well, nobody could think of anything to do-
-everybody was stumped, and set still.
I was most ready to cry; but all at once I
thought of a way, and so I offered them
Miss Watson--they could kill her.
Everybody said:
"Oh, she'll do.
That's all right.
Huck can come in."
Then they all stuck a pin in their fingers
to get blood to sign with, and I made my
mark on the paper.
"Now," says Ben Rogers, "what's the line of
business of this Gang?"
"Nothing only robbery and ***," Tom
said.
"But who are we going to rob?--houses, or
cattle, or--"
"Stuff! stealing cattle and such things
ain't robbery; it's burglary," says Tom
Sawyer.
"We ain't burglars.
That ain't no sort of style.
We are highwaymen.
We stop stages and carriages on the road,
with masks on, and kill the people and take
their watches and money."
"Must we always kill the people?"
"Oh, certainly.
It's best.
Some authorities think different, but
mostly it's considered best to kill them--
except some that you bring to the cave
here, and keep them till they're ransomed."
"Ransomed?
What's that?"
"I don't know.
But that's what they do.
I've seen it in books; and so of course
that's what we've got to do."
"But how can we do it if we don't know what
it is?"
"Why, blame it all, we've GOT to do it.
Don't I tell you it's in the books?
Do you want to go to doing different from
what's in the books, and get things all
muddled up?"
"Oh, that's all very fine to SAY, Tom
Sawyer, but how in the nation are these
fellows going to be ransomed if we don't
know how to do it to them?
--that's the thing I want to get at.
Now, what do you reckon it is?"
"Well, I don't know.
But per'aps if we keep them till they're
ransomed, it means that we keep them till
they're dead."
"Now, that's something LIKE.
That'll answer.
Why couldn't you said that before?
We'll keep them till they're ransomed to
death; and a bothersome lot they'll be,
too--eating up everything, and always
trying to get loose."
"How you talk, Ben Rogers.
How can they get loose when there's a guard
over them, ready to shoot them down if they
move a peg?"
"A guard!
Well, that IS good.
So somebody's got to set up all night and
never get any sleep, just so as to watch
them.
I think that's foolishness.
Why can't a body take a club and ransom
them as soon as they get here?"
"Because it ain't in the books so--that's
why.
Now, Ben Rogers, do you want to do things
regular, or don't you?--that's the idea.
Don't you reckon that the people that made
the books knows what's the correct thing to
do?
Do you reckon YOU can learn 'em anything?
Not by a good deal.
No, sir, we'll just go on and ransom them
in the regular way."
"All right.
I don't mind; but I say it's a fool way,
anyhow.
Say, do we kill the women, too?"
"Well, Ben Rogers, if I was as ignorant as
you I wouldn't let on.
Kill the women?
No; nobody ever saw anything in the books
like that.
You fetch them to the cave, and you're
always as polite as pie to them; and by and
by they fall in love with you, and never
want to go home any more."
"Well, if that's the way I'm agreed, but I
don't take no stock in it.
Mighty soon we'll have the cave so
cluttered up with women, and fellows
waiting to be ransomed, that there won't be
no place for the robbers.
But go ahead, I ain't got nothing to say."
Little Tommy Barnes was asleep now, and
when they waked him up he was scared, and
cried, and said he wanted to go home to his
ma, and didn't want to be a robber any
So they all made fun of him, and called him
cry-baby, and that made him mad, and he
said he would go straight and tell all the
secrets.
But Tom give him five cents to keep quiet,
and said we would all go home and meet next
week, and rob somebody and kill some
people.
Ben Rogers said he couldn't get out much,
only Sundays, and so he wanted to begin
next Sunday; but all the boys said it would
be wicked to do it on Sunday, and that
settled the thing.
They agreed to get together and fix a day
as soon as they could, and then we elected
Tom Sawyer first captain and Jo Harper
second captain of the Gang, and so started
home.
I clumb up the shed and crept into my
window just before day was breaking.
My new clothes was all greased up and
clayey, and I was dog-tired.