As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness
came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and
lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and
by, and drearily set about getting breakfast.
After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed,
and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the
signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well
as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles,
or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded
them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer.
While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device.
This was to knock off being pirates, for a while,
and be Indians for a change. They were attracted
by this idea; so it was not long before they were
stripped, and striped from head to heel with black
mud, like so many zebras—all of them chiefs,
of course—and then they went tearing through
the woods to attack an English settlement.
By and by they separated into three hostile tribes,
and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful
war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands.
It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely
satisfactory one.
They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry
and happy; but now a difficulty arose—hostile
Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together
without first making peace, and this was a simple
impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace.
There was no other process that ever they had heard
of. Two of the savages almost wished they had
remained pirates. However, there was no other
way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could
muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff
as it passed, in due form.
And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery,
for they had gained something; they found that they
could now smoke a little without having to go and
hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough
to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not
likely to fool away this high promise for lack of
effort. No, they practised cautiously, after
supper, with right fair success, and so they spent
a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier
in their new acquirement than they would have been
in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations.
We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag,
since we have no further use for them at present.
CHAPTER XVII
But there was no hilarity in the little town
that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers,
and Aunt Polly’s family, were being put into
mourning, with great grief and many tears. An
unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was
ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The
villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air,
and talked little; but they sighed often. The
Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children.
They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave
them up.
In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping
about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very
melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort
her. She soliloquized:
Copyrights
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
