PREFACE
Mostoftheadventuresrecordedinthisbookreally
skjedde
occurred;oneortwowereexperiencesofmyown,therestthoseofboyswhowereschoolmatesofmine.
HuckFinnisdrawnfromlife;
TomSawyeralso,butnotfromanindividual—heisa
kombinasjon
combinationofthecharacteristicsofthreeboyswhomIknew,andthereforebelongstothecompositeorderofarkitektur
architecture.TheoddsuperstitionstoucheduponwereallprevalentamongchildrenandslavesintheWestattheperiodofthisstory—thatistosay,thirtyorfortyyearsago.
Althoughmybookis
tenkte
intendedmainlyfortheentertainmentofboysandgirls,Ihopeitwillnotbeshunnedbymenandwomenonthataccount,forpartofmyplanhasbeentotrytopleasantlyremindadultsofwhattheyoncewerethemselves,andofhowtheyfeltandthoughtandtalked,andwhatqueerenterprisestheysometimesengasjert
engagedin.THEAUTHOR.
CHAPTERI
“Tom!”
Noanswer.
“TOM!”
Noanswer.
“What’sgonewiththatboy,Iwonder?
YouTOM!”
Noanswer.
Theoldladypulledherspectaclesdownandlookedoverthemabouttheroom;
thensheputthemupandlookedoutunderthem.
She
sjelden
seldomorneverlookedthroughthemforsosmallathingasaboy;theywereherstatepair,theprideofherheart,andwerebuiltfor“style,”notservice—shecouldhaveseenthroughapairofstove-lidsjustaswell.
Shelookedperplexedforamoment,andthensaid,not
voldsomt
fiercely,butstillloudenoughforthefurnituretohear:.“Well,IlayifIgetholdofyouI’ll—”.
Shedidnotfinish,forbythistimeshewas
bøyde
bendingdownandpunchingunderthebedwiththebroom,andsosheneededbreathtopunctuatethepuncheswith.Sheresurrectednothingbutthecat.
“Ineverdidseethebeatofthatboy!”
Shewenttotheopendoorandstoodinitandlookedoutamongthe
tomat
tomatovinesand“jimpson”weedsthatconstitutedthegarden.NoTom.
Soshelifteduphervoiceatan
vinkel
anglecalculatedfordistanceandshouted:.“Y-o-u-uTOM!”
Therewasaslightnoisebehindherandsheturnedjustintimeto
gripe
seizeasmallboybytheslackofhisrundkjøring
roundaboutandarresthisflight.“There!
Imight’a’thoughtofthatcloset.
Whatyoubeendoinginthere?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing!
Lookatyourhands.
Andlookatyourmouth.
Whatisthattruck?”
“Idon’tknow,aunt.”
“Well,Iknow.
It’sjam—that’swhatitis.
FortytimesI’vesaidifyoudidn’tletthatjamaloneI’dskinyou.
Handmethatswitch.”
Theswitchhoveredintheair—the
faren
perilwasdesperate—.“My!
Lookbehindyou,aunt!”
Theoldladywhirledround,andsnatchedherskirtsoutofdanger.
The
gutten
ladfledontheinstant,scrambledupthehighboard-fence,anddisappearedoverit.HisauntPollystoodsurprisedamoment,andthenbrokeintoa
mild
gentlelaugh.“Hangtheboy,can’tIneverlearnanything?
Ain’theplayedmetricksenoughlikethatformetobelookingoutforhimbythistime?
Butoldfoolsisthebiggestfoolsthereis.
Can’tlearnanolddognewtricks,asthesayingis.
Butmygoodness,heneverplaysthemalike,twodays,andhowisabodytoknowwhat’scoming?
He’pearstoknowjusthowlonghecantormentmebeforeIgetmydanderup,andheknowsifhecanmakeouttoputmeoffforaminuteormakemelaugh,it’salldownagainandIcan’thithima
slikk
lick.Iain’tdoingmydutybythatboy,andthat’stheLord’struth,goodnessknows.
Sparetherodandspilethechild,astheGoodBooksays.
I’malayingupsinandsufferingforusboth,Iknow.
He’sfulloftheOldScratch,butlaws-a-me!
he’smyowndeadsister’sboy,poorthing,andIain’tgotthehearttolashhim,somehow.
EverytimeIlethimoff,myconsciencedoeshurtmeso,andeverytimeIhithimmyoldheartmostbreaks.
Well-a-well,manthatisbornofwomanisoffewdaysandfulloftrouble,asthe
Skriften
Scripturesays,andIreckonit’sso.He’llplayhookeythisevening,[*]andI’lljustbeobleegedtomakehimwork,tomorrow,to
straffe
punishhim.It’smightyhardtomakehimworkSaturdays,whenalltheboysishavingholiday,buthehatesworkmorethanhehatesanythingelse,andI’vegottodosomeofmydutybyhim,orI’llbetheruinationofthechild.”
[*]Southwesternfor“afternoon”.
Tomdidplayhookey,andhehadaverygoodtime.
HegotbackhomebarelyinseasontohelpJim,thesmallcoloredboy,sawnext-day’swoodandsplitthekindlingsbeforesupper—atleasthewasthereintimetotellhisadventurestoJimwhileJimdidthree-fourthsofthework.
Tom’syoungerbrother(orratherhalf-brother)Sidwasalreadythroughwithhispartofthework(pickingupchips),forhewasaquietboy,andhadno
eventyrlystne
adventurous,trouble-someways.WhileTomwaseatinghis
middag
supper,andstealingsugarasopportunityoffered,AuntPollyaskedhimquestionsthatwerefullofguile,andverydeep—forshewantedtotraphimintodamagingrevealments.Likemanyothersimple-heartedsouls,itwasher
kjæledyr
petvanitytobelieveshewasendowedwithatalentfordarkandmystisk
mysteriousdiplomacy,andshelovedtocontemplatehermosttransparentdevicesasmarvelsoflowcunning.Saidshe:.
“Tom,itwasmiddlingwarminschool,warn’tit?”
“Yes’m.”
“Powerfulwarm,warn’tit?”
“Yes’m.”
“Didn’tyouwanttogoina-swimming,Tom?”
AbitofascareshotthroughTom—atouchof
ubehagelig
uncomfortablesuspicion.HesearchedAuntPolly’sface,butittoldhimnothing.
Sohesaid:.
“No’m—well,notverymuch.”
TheoldladyreachedoutherhandandfeltTom’sshirt,andsaid:.
“Butyouain’ttoowarmnow,though.”
Andit
smigret
flatteredhertoreflectthatshehaddiscoveredthattheshirtwasdrywithoutanybodyknowingthatthatwaswhatshehadinhermind.Butin
tross
spiteofher,Tomknewwherethewindlay,now.Soheforestalledwhatmightbethenextmove:.
“Someofus
pumpet
pumpedonourheads—mine’sdampyet.See?”
AuntPollywasvexedtothinkshehadoverlookedthatbitofcircumstantialevidence,andmissedatrick.
Thenshehadanew
inspirasjon
inspiration:.“Tom,youdidn’thavetoundoyourshirtcollarwhereIsewedit,to
pumpe
pumponyourhead,didyou?Unbuttonyourjacket!”
Thetrouble
forsvant
vanishedoutofTom’sface.Heopenedhisjacket.
Hisshirt
krage
collarwassecurelysewed.“Bother!
Well,go’longwithyou.
I’dmadesureyou’dplayedhookeyandbeena-swimming.
ButIforgiveye,Tom.
I
regner
reckonyou’reakindofasingedcat,asthesayingis—better’nyoulook.Thistime.”
Shewashalfsorryhersagacityhadmiscarried,andhalfgladthatTomhadstumbledinto
lydig
obedientconductforonce.ButSidneysaid:.
“Well,now,ifIdidn’tthinkyousewedhiscollarwithwhite
tråd
thread,butit’sblack.”“Why,Idid
sy
sewitwithwhite!Tom!”
ButTomdidnotwaitfortherest.
Ashewentoutatthedoorhesaid:.
“Siddy,I’ll
slikke
lickyouforthat.”InasafeplaceTom
undersøkt
examinedtwolargeneedleswhichwerethrustintothelapelsofhisjacket,andhadtråd
threadboundaboutthem—oneneedlecarriedwhitetråd
threadandtheotherblack.Hesaid:.
“She’dnevernoticedifithadn’tbeenforSid.
Confoundit!
sometimesshesewsitwithwhite,andsometimesshesewsitwithblack.
Iwishtogee-minyshe’dsticktooneort’other—Ican’tkeeptherunof’em.
ButIbetyouI’lllamSidforthat.
I’lllearnhim!”
HewasnottheModelBoyofthevillage.
Heknewthemodelboyverywellthough—and
avskydde
loathedhim.Withintwominutes,orevenless,hehadforgottenallhistroubles.
Notbecausehistroubleswereonewhitlessheavyand
bitter
bittertohimthanaman’saretoaman,butbecauseanewandpowerfulinterestborethemdownanddrovethemoutofhismindforthetime—justasmen’smisfortunesareforgottenintheexcitementofnewenterprises.Thisnewinterestwasavalued
nyhet
noveltyinwhistling,whichhehadjustacquiredfromanegro,andhewassufferingtopraktisere
practiseitundisturbed.Itconsistedinapeculiarbird-liketurn,asortof
flytende
liquidwarble,producedbytouchingthetonguetotheroofofthemouthatshortintervalsinthemidstofthemusic—theleseren
readerprobablyremembershowtodoit,ifhehaseverbeenaboy.Diligenceandattentionsoongavehimthe
evne
knackofit,andhestrodedownthestreetwithhismouthfullofharmoni
harmonyandhissoulfulloftakknemlighet
gratitude.Hefeltmuchasanastronomerfeelswhohasdiscoveredanewplanet—nodoubt,asfarasstrong,deep,unalloyedpleasureisconcerned,theadvantagewaswiththeboy,nottheastronomer.
Thesummereveningswerelong.
Itwasnotdark,yet.
PresentlyTomcheckedhis
fløyte
whistle.Astrangerwasbeforehim—aboya
skygge
shadelargerthanhimself.Anew-comerofanyageoreithersexwasanimpressive
nysgjerrighet
curiosityinthepoorlittleshabby
shabbyvillageofSt.Petersburg.Thisboywaswelldressed,too—welldressedonaweek-day.
Thiswassimplyastounding.
Hiscapwasadaintything,hisclose-buttonedbluecloth
rundkjøring
roundaboutwasnewandnatty,andsowerehispantaloons.Hehadshoeson—anditwasonlyFriday.
Heevenworeanecktie,abrightbitof
bånd
ribbon.HehadacitifiedairabouthimthatateintoTom’svitals.
ThemoreTom
stirret
staredatthesplendidmarvel,thehigherheturneduphisnoseathisfineryandtheshabbierandshabbierhisownantrekk
outfitseemedtohimtogrow.Neitherboyspoke.
Ifonemoved,theothermoved—butonlysidewise,inacircle;
theykeptfacetofaceandeyetoeyeallthetime.
FinallyTomsaid:.
“Ican
slikke
lickyou!”“I’dliketoseeyoutryit.”
“Well,Icandoit.”
“Noyoucan’t,either.”
“YesIcan.”
“Noyoucan’t.”
“Ican.”
“Youcan’t.”
“Can!”
“Can’t!”
An
ukomfortabel
uncomfortablepause.ThenTomsaid:.
“What’syourname?”
“’Tisn’tanyofyourbusiness,maybe.”
“WellI’lowI’llmakeitmybusiness.”
“Wellwhydon’tyou?”
“Ifyousaymuch,Iwill.”
“Much—much—much.
Therenow.”
“Oh,youthinkyou’re
mektig
mightysmart,don’tyou?Icould
slikke
lickyouwithonehandtiedbehindme,ifIwantedto.”“Wellwhydon’tyoudoit?
Yousayyoucandoit.”
“WellIwill,ifyoufoolwithme.”
“Ohyes—I’veseenwholefamiliesinthesamefix.”
“Smarty!
Youthinkyou’resome,now,don’tyou?
Oh,whatahat!”
“Youcanlumpthathatifyoudon’tlikeit.
Idareyoutoknockitoff—andanybodythat’lltakeadarewillsuckeggs.”
“You’realiar!”
“You’reanother.”
“You’reafightingliaranddasn’ttakeitup.”
“Aw—takeawalk!”
“Say—ifyougivememuchmoreofyoursassI’lltakeandbouncearockoff’nyourhead.”
“Oh,ofcourseyouwill.”
“WellIwill.”
“Wellwhydon’tyoudoitthen?
Whatdoyoukeepsayingyouwillfor?
Whydon’tyoudoit?
It’sbecauseyou’reafraid.”
“Iain’tafraid.”
“Youare.”
“Iain’t.”
“Youare.”
Another
pause
pause,andmoreeyingandsidlingaroundeachother.Presentlytheywereshouldertoshoulder.
Tomsaid:.
“Getawayfromhere!”
“Goawayyourself!”
“Iwon’t.”
“Iwon’teither.”
Sotheystood,eachwithafootplacedatan
vinkel
angleasabrace,andbothskyver
shovingwithmightandmain,andgloweringateachotherwithhate.Butneithercouldgetanadvantage.
Afterstrugglingtillbothwerehotandflushed,eachrelaxedhis
belastning
strainwithwatchfulcaution,andTomsaid:.“You’reacowardandapup.
I’lltellmybigbrotheronyou,andhecanthrashyouwithhislittlefinger,andI’llmakehimdoit,too.”
“WhatdoIcareforyourbigbrother?
I’vegotabrotherthat’sbiggerthanheis—andwhat’smore,hecanthrowhimoverthat
gjerdet
fence,too.“That’salie.”