I set down again, a-shaking all over, and got out
my pipe for a smoke; for the house was all as still
as death now, and so the widow wouldn’t know.
Well, after a long time I heard the clock away off
in the town go boom—boom—boom—twelve
licks; and all still again—stiller than
ever. Pretty soon I heard a twig snap down in
the dark amongst the trees —something was
a stirring. I set still and listened. Directly
I could just barely hear a “me-yow! me-yow!”
down there. That was good! Says I, “me-yow!
me-yow!” as soft as I could, and then I put out
the light and scrambled out of the window on to the
shed. Then I slipped down to the ground and
crawled in among the trees, and, sure enough, there
was Tom Sawyer waiting for me.
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
nigger, 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.
