PREFACE
Mostoftheadventuresrecordedinthisbookreallyoccurred;
oneortwowereexperiencesofmyown,therestthoseofboyswhowereschoolmatesofmine.
HuckFinnisdrawnfromlife;
TomSawyeralso,butnotfromanindividual—heisacombinationofthecharacteristicsofthreeboyswhomIknew,and
portanto
thereforebelongstothecompositeorderofarchitecture.Theoddsuperstitionstoucheduponwereallprevalent
entre
amongchildrenandslavesintheWestattheperíodo
periodofthisstory—thatistosay,thirtyorfortyyearsago.Embora
Althoughmybookisintendedmainlyfortheentertainmentofboysandgirls,Ihopeitwillnotbeshunnedbymenandwomenonthataccount,forpartofmyplanhasbeentotrytopleasantlylembrar
remindadultsofwhattheyoncewerethemselves,andofhowtheyfeltandthoughtandtalked,andwhatqueerenterprisestheysometimesengagedin.THEAUTHOR.
CHAPTERI
“Tom!”
Noanswer.
“TOM!”
Noanswer.
“What’sgonewiththatboy,Iwonder?
YouTOM!”
Noanswer.
Theoldladypulledherspectaclesdownandlookedoverthemabouttheroom;
thensheputthemupandlookedoutunderthem.
Sheseldomorneverlookedthroughthemforsosmallathingasaboy;
theywereherstate
par
pair,theprideofherheart,andwerebuiltfor“style,”notservice—shecouldhaveseenthroughapar
pairofstove-lidsjustaswell.Shelookedperplexedforamoment,andthensaid,notfiercely,butstill
alto
loudenoughforthefurnituretohear:.“Well,IlayifIgetholdofyouI’ll—”.
Shedidnotfinish,forbythistimeshewasbendingdownandpunchingunderthebedwiththebroom,andsosheneededbreathtopunctuatethepuncheswith.
Sheresurrectednothingbutthecat.
“Ineverdidseethebeatofthatboy!”
Shewenttotheopendoorandstoodinitandlookedout
entre
amongthetomatovinesand“jimpson”weedsthatconstitutedthejardim
garden.NoTom.
Soshe
levantou
lifteduphervoiceatananglecalculatedfordistância
distanceandshouted:.“Y-o-u-uTOM!”
Therewasaslight
barulho
noisebehindherandsheturnedjustintimetoseizeasmallboybytheslackofhisroundaboutandarresthisflight.“There!
Imight’a’thoughtofthat
armário
closet.Whatyoubeendoinginthere?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing!
Lookatyourhands.
Andlookatyourmouth.
Whatisthattruck?”
“Idon’tknow,aunt.”
“Well,Iknow.
It’sjam—that’swhatitis.
FortytimesI’vesaidifyoudidn’tletthatjamaloneI’dskinyou.
Handmethatswitch.”
The
interruptor
switchhoveredintheair—theperilwasdesesperado
desperate—.“My!
Lookbehindyou,aunt!”
Theoldladywhirledround,andsnatchedherskirtsoutof
perigo
danger.Theladfledontheinstant,scrambledupthehighboard-fence,and
desapareceu
disappearedoverit.HisauntPollystoodsurprisedamoment,andthenbrokeintoagentlelaugh.
“Hangtheboy,can’tIneverlearnanything?
Ain’theplayedme
enganou
tricksenoughlikethatformetobelookingoutforhimbythistime?Butoldfoolsisthebiggestfoolsthereis.
Can’tlearnanolddognewtricks,asthesayingis.
Butmy
deus
goodness,heneverplaysthemalike,twodays,andhowisabodytoknowwhat’scoming?He’pearstoknowjusthowlonghecantormentmebeforeIgetmydanderup,andheknowsifhecanmakeouttoputmeoffforaminuteormakemelaugh,it’salldownagainandIcan’thithimalick.
Iain’tdoingmydutybythatboy,andthat’stheLord’struth,
deus
goodnessknows.Sparetherodandspilethechild,astheGoodBooksays.
I’malayingup
pecado
sinandsufferingforusboth,Iknow.He’sfulloftheOldScratch,butlaws-a-me!
he’smyowndeadsister’sboy,poorthing,andIain’tgotthehearttolashhim,
alguma
somehow.EverytimeIlethimoff,myconsciencedoeshurtmeso,andeverytimeIhithimmyoldheartmostbreaks.
Well-a-well,manthatisbornofwomanisoffewdaysandfulloftrouble,astheScripturesays,andIreckonit’sso.
He’llplayhookeythisevening,[*]andI’lljustbeobleegedtomakehimwork,tomorrow,topunishhim.
It’smightyhardtomakehimworkSaturdays,whenalltheboysishaving
férias
holiday,buthehatesworkmorethanhehatesanythingelse,andI’vegottodosomeofmydutybyhim,orI’llbetheruinationofthechild.”[*]Southwesternfor“afternoon”.
Tomdidplayhookey,andhehadaverygoodtime.
Hegotbackhome
mal
barelyinseasontohelpJim,thesmallcoloredboy,sawnext-day’smadeira
woodandsplitthekindlingsbeforesupper—atleasthewasthereintimetotellhisadventurestoJimwhileJimdidthree-fourthsofthework.Tom’s
novo
youngerbrother(orratherhalf-brother)Sidwasalreadythroughwithhispartofthework(pickingupchips),forhewasaquietboy,andhadnoadventurous,trouble-someways.WhileTomwaseatinghissupper,andstealing
açúcar
sugarasopportunityoffered,AuntPollyaskedhimquestionsthatwerefullofguile,andverydeep—forshewantedtotraphimintodamagingrevealments.Likemanyothersimple-heartedsouls,itwasherpetvanitytobelieveshewasendowedwitha
talento
talentfordarkandmysteriousdiplomacy,andshelovedtocontemplatehermosttransparentdevicesasmarvelsoflowcunning.Saidshe:.
“Tom,itwasmiddlingwarminschool,warn’tit?”
“Yes’m.”
“Powerfulwarm,warn’tit?”
“Yes’m.”
“Didn’tyouwanttogoina-swimming,Tom?”
Abitofa
susto
scareshotthroughTom—atouchofuncomfortablesuspicion.HesearchedAuntPolly’sface,butittoldhimnothing.
Sohesaid:.
“No’m—well,notverymuch.”
TheoldladyreachedoutherhandandfeltTom’sshirt,andsaid:.
“Butyouain’ttoowarmnow,though.”
Anditflatteredhertoreflectthatshehaddiscoveredthattheshirtwas
seca
drywithoutanybodyknowingthatthatwaswhatshehadinhermind.Butinspiteofher,Tomknewwherethewindlay,now.
Soheforestalledwhatmightbethenextmove:.
“Someofuspumpedonourheads—mine’sdampyet.
See?”
AuntPollywasvexedtothinkshehadoverlookedthatbitofcircumstantialevidence,andmisseda
truque
trick.Thenshehadanewinspiration:.
“Tom,youdidn’thavetoundoyourshirtcollarwhereIsewedit,topumponyourhead,didyou?
Unbuttonyourjacket!”
ThetroublevanishedoutofTom’sface.
Heopenedhis
casaco
jacket.Hisshirtcollarwassecurelysewed.
“Bother!
Well,go’longwithyou.
I’dmadesureyou’dplayedhookeyandbeena-swimming.
ButIforgiveye,Tom.
Ireckonyou’reakindofasingedcat,asthesayingis—better’nyoulook.
Thistime.”
Shewashalfsorryhersagacityhadmiscarried,andhalfgladthatTomhadstumbledintoobedientconductforonce.
ButSidneysaid:.
“Well,now,ifIdidn’tthinkyousewedhiscollarwithwhitethread,butit’sblack.”
“Why,Ididsewitwithwhite!
Tom!”
ButTomdidnotwaitfortherest.
Ashewentoutatthedoorhesaid:.
“Siddy,I’lllickyouforthat.”
InasafeplaceTomexaminedtwolargeneedleswhichwerethrustintothelapelsofhis
casaco
jacket,andhadthreadboundaboutthem—oneneedlecarriedwhitethreadandtheotherblack.Hesaid:.
“She’dnevernoticedifithadn’tbeenforSid.
Confoundit!
sometimesshesewsitwithwhite,andsometimesshesewsitwithblack.
Iwishtogee-minyshe’dsticktooneort’other—Ican’tkeeptherunof’em.
ButIbetyouI’lllamSidforthat.
I’lllearnhim!”
Hewasnotthe
Modelo
ModelBoyofthevillage.Heknewthe
modelo
modelboyverywellthough—andloathedhim.Withintwominutes,orevenless,hehadforgottenallhistroubles.
Notbecausehistroubleswereonewhitlessheavyandbittertohimthanaman’saretoaman,butbecauseanewand
poderoso
powerfulinterestborethemdownanddrovethemoutofhismindforthetime—justasmen’smisfortunesareforgottenintheexcitementofnewenterprises.Thisnewinterestwasavaluednoveltyinwhistling,whichhehadjustacquiredfromanegro,andhewas
sofrendo
sufferingtopractiseitundisturbed.Itconsistedinapeculiarbird-liketurn,asortofliquidwarble,producedbytouchingthe
língua
tonguetotheroofofthemouthatshortintervalsinthemidstofthemusic—thereaderprobablyremembershowtodoit,ifhehaseverbeenaboy.Diligenceandattentionsoongavehimtheknackofit,andhestrodedownthestreetwithhismouthfullofharmonyandhissoulfullofgratitude.
Hefeltmuchasanastronomerfeelswhohasdiscoveredanewplanet—nodoubt,asfarasstrong,deep,unalloyedpleasureisconcerned,the
vantagem
advantagewaswiththeboy,nottheastronomer.Thesummereveningswerelong.
Itwasnotdark,yet.
PresentlyTomcheckedhiswhistle.
A
estranho
strangerwasbeforehim—aboyashadelargerthanhimself.Anew-comerofanyageoreithersexwasan
impressionante
impressivecuriosityinthepoorlittleshabbyvillageofSt.Petersburg.Thisboywaswelldressed,too—welldressedonaweek-day.
Thiswassimplyastounding.
Hiscapwasadaintything,hisclose-buttonedblueclothroundaboutwasnewandnatty,andsowerehispantaloons.
Hehadshoeson—anditwasonly
Sexta
Friday.Heevenworeanecktie,a
brilhante
brightbitofribbon.HehadacitifiedairabouthimthatateintoTom’svitals.
ThemoreTomstaredatthesplendidmarvel,thehigherheturneduphisnoseathisfineryandtheshabbierandshabbierhisownoutfitseemedtohimtogrow.
Neitherboyspoke.
Ifonemoved,theothermoved—butonlysidewise,ina
círculo
circle;theykeptfacetofaceandeyetoeyeallthetime.
FinallyTomsaid:.
“Icanlickyou!”
“I’dliketoseeyoutryit.”
“Well,Icandoit.”
“Noyoucan’t,either.”
“YesIcan.”
“Noyoucan’t.”
“Ican.”
“Youcan’t.”
“Can!”
“Can’t!”
Anuncomfortablepause.
ThenTomsaid:.
“What’syourname?”
“’Tisn’tanyofyourbusiness,maybe.”
“WellI’lowI’llmakeitmybusiness.”
“Wellwhydon’tyou?”
“Ifyousaymuch,Iwill.”
“Much—much—much.
Therenow.”
“Oh,youthinkyou’remightysmart,don’tyou?
Icouldlickyouwithonehandtiedbehindme,ifIwantedto.”
“Wellwhydon’tyoudoit?
Yousayyoucandoit.”
“WellIwill,ifyoufoolwithme.”
“Ohyes—I’veseenwholefamiliesinthesamefix.”
“Smarty!
Youthinkyou’resome,now,don’tyou?
Oh,whatahat!”
“Youcanlumpthat
chapéu
hatifyoudon’tlikeit.Idareyoutoknockitoff—andanybodythat’lltakeadarewill
chupar
suckeggs.”“You’realiar!”
“You’reanother.”
“You’reafighting
mentiroso
liaranddasn’ttakeitup.”“Aw—takeawalk!”
“Say—ifyougivememuchmoreofyoursassI’lltakeandbouncearockoff’nyourhead.”
“Oh,ofcourseyouwill.”
“WellIwill.”
“Wellwhydon’tyoudoitthen?
Whatdoyoukeepsayingyouwillfor?
Whydon’tyoudoit?
It’sbecauseyou’reafraid.”
“Iain’tafraid.”
“Youare.”
“Iain’t.”
“Youare.”
Anotherpause,andmoreeyingandsidlingaroundeachother.
Presentlytheywere
ombro
shouldertoshoulder.Tomsaid:.
“Getawayfromhere!”
“Goawayyourself!”
“Iwon’t.”
“Iwon’teither.”
Sotheystood,eachwithafootplacedatanangleasabrace,andbothshovingwithmightand
principal
main,andgloweringateachotherwithhate.Butneithercouldgetan
vantagem
advantage.Afterstrugglingtillbothwerehotandflushed,eachrelaxedhisstrainwithwatchfulcaution,andTomsaid:.
“You’rea
cobarde
cowardandapup.I’lltellmybigbrotheronyou,andhecanthrashyouwithhislittle
dedo
finger,andI’llmakehimdoit,too.”“WhatdoIcareforyourbigbrother?
I’vegotabrotherthat’sbiggerthanheis—andwhat’smore,hecanthrowhimoverthatfence,too.
“That’salie.”