Huck said: “Tom, we
can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain’t
high from the ground.”
“Shucks! what do you want to slope for?”
“Well, I ain’t used to
that kind of a crowd. I can’t stand it.
I ain’t going down there, Tom.”
“Oh, bother! It ain’t
anything. I don’t mind it a bit. I’ll
take care of you.”
Sid appeared.
“Tom,” said he, “auntie
has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary
got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody’s
been fretting about you. Say—ain’t
this grease and clay, on your clothes?”
“Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist ’tend
to your own business. What’s all this blow-out
about, anyway?”
“It’s one of the widow’s
parties that she’s always having. This time
it’s for the Welshman and his sons, on account
of that scrape they helped her out of the other night.
And say—I can tell you something, if you
want to know.”
“Well, what?”
“Why, old Mr. Jones is going
to try to spring something on the people here to-night,
but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as
a secret, but I reckon it’s not much of a secret
now. Everybody knows —the widow, too,
for all she tries to let on she don’t. Mr.
Jones was bound Huck should be here—couldn’t
get along with his grand secret without Huck, you
know!”
“Secret about what, Sid?”
“About Huck tracking the robbers
to the widow’s. I reckon Mr. Jones was
going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I
bet you it will drop pretty flat.”
Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.
“Sid, was it you that told?”
“Oh, never mind who it was. Somebody
told—that’s enough.”
“Sid, there’s only one
person in this town mean enough to do that, and that’s
you. If you had been in Huck’s place you’d
‘a’ sneaked down the hill and never told
anybody on the robbers. You can’t do any
but mean things, and you can’t bear to see anybody
praised for doing good ones. There—no
thanks, as the widow says”—and Tom
cuffed Sid’s ears and helped him to the door
with several kicks. “Now go and tell auntie
if you dare—and to-morrow you’ll
catch it!”
Some minutes later the widow’s
guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children
were propped up at little side-tables in the same room,
after the fashion of that country and that day.
At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech,
in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was
doing himself and his sons, but said that there was
another person whose modesty—
And so forth and so on. He sprung
his secret about Huck’s share in the adventure
in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but
the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit
and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have
been under happier circumstances. However, the
widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and
heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon
Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable
discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable
discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody’s
gaze and everybody’s laudations.
The widow said she meant to give Huck
a home under her roof and have him educated; and that
when she could spare the money she would start him
in business in a modest way. Tom’s chance
was come. He said:
“Huck don’t need it. Huck’s
rich.”
Nothing but a heavy strain upon the
good manners of the company kept back the due and
proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke.
But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke
it:
“Huck’s got money.
Maybe you don’t believe it, but he’s got
lots of it. Oh, you needn’t smile—I
reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute.”
Tom ran out of doors. The company
looked at each other with a perplexed interest—and
inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied.
“Sid, what ails Tom?”
said Aunt Polly. “He—well, there
ain’t ever any making of that boy out.
I never—”
Tom entered, struggling with the weight
of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence.
Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table
and said:
“There—what did I
tell you? Half of it’s Huck’s and
half of it’s mine!”
The spectacle took the general breath
away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment.
Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation.
Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The
tale was long, but brimful of interest. There
was scarcely an interruption from any one to break
the charm of its flow. When he had finished,
Mr. Jones said:
“I thought I had fixed up a
little surprise for this occasion, but it don’t
amount to anything now. This one makes it sing
mighty small, I’m willing to allow.”
The money was counted. The sum
amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars.
It was more than any one present had ever seen at one
time before, though several persons were there who
were worth considerably more than that in property.