“I dono. It’s too deep. Say,
Huck—maybe it’s the number of a house!”
“Goody! ... No, Tom, that ain’t it.
If it is, it ain’t in this one-horse town.
They ain’t no numbers here.”
“Well, that’s so. Lemme think a minute.
Here—it’s the number of a room—in
a tavern, you know!”
“Oh, that’s the trick! They ain’t
only two taverns. We can find out quick.”
“You stay here, Huck, till I come.”
Tom was off at once. He did not care to have
Huck’s company in public places. He was
gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern,
No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and
was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious
house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper’s
young son said it was kept locked all the time, and
he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it
except at night; he did not know any particular reason
for this state of things; had had some little curiosity,
but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the
mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that
that room was “ha’nted”; had noticed
that there was a light in there the night before.
“That’s what I’ve found out, Huck.
I reckon that’s the very No. 2 we’re after.”
“I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going
to do?”
“Lemme think.”
Tom thought a long time. Then he said:
“I’ll tell you. The back door of
that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little
close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap
of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the
door-keys you can find, and I’ll nip all of
auntie’s, and the first dark night we’ll
go there and try ’em. And mind you, keep
a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going
to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance
to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow
him; and if he don’t go to that No. 2, that
ain’t the place.”
“Lordy, I don’t want to foller him by
myself!”
“Why, it’ll be night, sure. He mightn’t
ever see you—and if he did, maybe he’d
never think anything.”
“Well, if it’s pretty dark I reckon I’ll
track him. I dono—I dono. I’ll
try.”
“You bet I’ll follow him, if it’s
dark, Huck. Why, he might ‘a’ found
out he couldn’t get his revenge, and be going
right after that money.”
“It’s so, Tom, it’s so. I’ll
foller him; I will, by jingoes!”
“Now you’re talking! Don’t
you ever weaken, Huck, and I won’t.”
That night Tom and Huck were ready for their
adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of
the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley
at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody
entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the
Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The
night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with
the understanding that if a considerable degree of
darkness came on, Huck was to come and “maow,”
whereupon he would slip out and try the keys.
But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch
and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about
twelve.
