in a rotten stump where therain-water was."
"In the daytime?"
"Certainly."
"With his face to the stump?"
"Yes. Least I reckon so."
"Did he say anything?"
"I don't reckon he did. I don't know."
"Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blamefool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to goall by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's aspunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against thestump and jam your hand in and say:
'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,'
and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and thenturn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody.Because if you speak the charm's busted."
"Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tannerdone."
"No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in thistown; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to workspunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way,Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable manywarts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean."
"Yes, bean's good. I've done that."
"Have you? What's your way?"
"You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get someblood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take anddig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark ofthe moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piecethat's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying tofetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw thewart, and pretty soon off she comes."
"Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if yousay 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better.That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville andmost everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?"
"Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long aboutmidnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it'smidnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk;and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'emand say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'mdone with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart."
"Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?"
"No, but old Mother Hopkins told me."
"Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch."
"Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his ownself. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so hetook up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, thatvery night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and brokehis arm."
"Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?"
"Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at youright stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuzwhen they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards."
"Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?"
"To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night."
"But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?"
"Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--andTHEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don'treckon."
"I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?"
"Of course--if you ain't afeard."
"Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?"
"Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' mea-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don'tyou tell."
"I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me,but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?"
"Nothing but a tick."
"Where'd you get him?"
"Out in the woods."
"What'll you take for him?"
"I don't know. I don't want to sell him."
"All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway."
"Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'msatisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me."
"Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if Iwanted to."
"Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is apretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year."
"Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him."
"Less see it."
Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberryviewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said:
"Is it genuwyne?"
Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy.
"Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade."
Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately beenthe pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthierthan before.
When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode inbriskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed.He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat withbusiness-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his greatsplint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study.The interruption roused him.
"Thomas Sawyer!"
Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble.
"Sir!"
"Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?"
Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails ofyellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electricsympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on thegirls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said:
"I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!"
The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz ofstudy ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost hismind. The master said:
"You--you did what?"
"Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn."
There was no mistaking the words.
"Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have everlistened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off yourjacket."
The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock ofswitches notably diminished. Then the order followed:
"Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you."
The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, butin reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe ofhis unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high goodfortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girlhitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winksand whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms uponthe long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book.
By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmurrose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to stealfurtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him andgave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When shecautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust itaway. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with lessanimosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let itremain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." Thegirl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to drawsomething on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a timethe girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began tomanifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on,apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt tosee, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last shegave in and hesitatingly whispered:
"Let me see it."
Tom partly uncovered a dismal cari
cature of a house with two gableends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then thegirl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgoteverything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, thenwhispered:
"It's nice--make a man."
The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick.He could have