“Well, if it’s got to be done, let’s
get at it. The quicker the better—I’m
all in a shiver.”
“Do it now? And company there?
Look here—I’ll get suspicious of you,
first thing you know. No—we’ll
wait till the lights are out—there’s
no hurry.”
Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue—a
thing still more awful than any amount of murderous
talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back;
planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing,
one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling
over, first on one side and then on the other.
He took another step back, with the same elaboration
and the same risks; then another and another, and—a
twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped
and he listened. There was no sound—the
stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless.
Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of
sumach bushes—turned himself as carefully
as if he were a ship—and then stepped quickly
but cautiously along. When he emerged at the
quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble
heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached
the Welshman’s. He banged at the door, and
presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart
sons were thrust from windows.
“What’s the row there? Who’s
banging? What do you want?”
“Let me in—quick! I’ll
tell everything.”
“Why, who are you?”
“Huckleberry Finn—quick, let me in!”
“Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain’t
a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him
in, lads, and let’s see what’s the trouble.”
“Please don’t ever tell I told you,”
were Huck’s first words when he got in.
“Please don’t—I’d be killed,
sure—but the widow’s been good friends
to me sometimes, and I want to tell—I will
tell if you’ll promise you won’t ever
say it was me.”
“By George, he has got something to tell,
or he wouldn’t act so!” exclaimed the
old man; “out with it and nobody here’ll
ever tell, lad.”
Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well
armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach
path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands.
Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind
a great bowlder and fell to listening. There
was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a
sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry.
Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away
and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry
him.
As the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on
Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and
rapped gently at the old Welshman’s door.
The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was
set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting
episode of the night. A call came from a window:
“Who’s there!”
Huck’s scared voice answered in a low tone:
