<p>CHAPTER II.</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>“Who dah?”</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p><SPAN name="c02-24" id="c02-24"></SPAN><br/> <br/></p>
<div class="fig"> <ANTIMG alt="c02-24.jpg (38K)" src="images/c02-24.jpg" style="width:100%;" /><br/>
</div>
<p><br/></p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Tom he made a sign to me—kind of a little noise with his mouth—and
we went creeping away on our hands and knees. When we was ten foot
off Tom whispered to me, and wanted to tie Jim to the tree for fun. But
I said no; he might wake and make a disturbance, and then they’d
find out I warn’t in. Then Tom said he hadn’t got candles
enough, and he would slip in the kitchen and get some more. I didn’t
want him to try. I said Jim might wake up and come. But Tom
wanted to resk it; so we slid in there and got three candles, and Tom laid
five cents on the table for pay. Then we got out, and I was in a sweat to
get away; but nothing would do Tom but he must crawl to where Jim was, on
his hands and knees, and play something on him. I waited, and it
seemed a good while, everything was so still and lonesome.</p>
<p>As soon as Tom was back we cut along the path, around the garden fence,
and by and by fetched up on the steep top of the hill the other side of
the house. Tom said he slipped Jim’s hat off of his head and
hung it on a limb right over him, and Jim stirred a little, but he didn’t
wake. Afterwards Jim said the witches be witched him and put him in a
trance, and rode him all over the State, and then set him under the trees
again, and hung his hat on a limb to show who done it. And next time
Jim told it he said they rode him down to New Orleans; and, after that,
every time he told it he spread it more and more, till by and by he said
they rode him all over the world, and tired him most to death, and his
back was all over saddle-boils. Jim was monstrous proud about it,
and he got so he wouldn’t hardly notice the other niggers. Niggers
would come miles to hear Jim tell about it, and he was more looked up to
than any nigger in that country. Strange niggers would stand with
their mouths open and look him all over, same as if he was a wonder.
Niggers is always talking about witches in the dark by the kitchen
fire; but whenever one was talking and letting on to know all about such
things, Jim would happen in and say, “Hm! What you know
’bout witches?” and that nigger was corked up and had to take
a back seat. Jim always kept that five-center piece round his neck
with a string, and said it was a charm the devil give to him with his own
hands, and told him he could cure anybody with it and fetch witches
whenever he wanted to just by saying something to it; but he never told
what it was he said to it. Niggers would come from all around there
and give Jim anything they had, just for a sight of that five-center
piece; but they wouldn’t touch it, because the devil had had his
hands on it. Jim was most ruined for a servant, because he got stuck
up on account of having seen the devil and been rode by witches.</p>
<p>Well, when Tom and me got to the edge of the hilltop we looked away down
into the village and could see three or four lights twinkling, where there
was sick folks, maybe; and the stars over us was sparkling ever so fine;
and down by the village was the river, a whole mile broad, and awful still
and grand. We went down the hill and found Jo Harper and Ben Rogers,
and two or three more of the boys, hid in the old tanyard. So we
unhitched a skiff and pulled down the river two mile and a half, to the
big scar on the hillside, and went ashore.</p>
<p>We went to a clump of bushes, and Tom made everybody swear to keep the
secret, and then showed them a hole in the hill, right in the thickest
part of the bushes. Then we lit the candles, and crawled in on our
hands and knees. We went about two hundred yards, and then the cave
opened up. Tom poked about amongst the passages, and pretty soon ducked
under a wall where you wouldn’t a noticed that there was a hole.
We went along a narrow place and got into a kind of room, all damp
and sweaty and cold, and there we stopped. Tom says:</p>
<p>“Now, we’ll start this band of robbers and call it Tom Sawyer’s
Gang. Everybody that wants to join has got to take an oath, and write his
name in blood.”</p>
<p><SPAN name="c02-25" id="c02-25"></SPAN><br/> <br/></p>
<div class="fig"> <ANTIMG alt="c02-25.jpg (68K)" src="images/c02-25.jpg" style="width:100%;" /><br/>
</div>
<p><br/></p>
<p>Everybody was willing. So Tom got out a sheet of paper that he had
wrote the oath on, and read it. It swore every boy to stick to the
band, and never tell any of the secrets; and if anybody done anything to
any boy in the band, whichever boy was ordered to kill that person and his
family must do it, and he mustn’t eat and he mustn’t sleep
till he had killed them and hacked a cross in their breasts, which was the
sign of the band. And nobody that didn’t belong to the band could
use that mark, and if he did he must be sued; and if he done it again he
must be killed. And if anybody that belonged to the band told the
secrets, he must have his throat cut, and then have his carcass burnt up
and the ashes scattered all around, and his name blotted off of the list
with blood and never mentioned again by the gang, but have a curse put on
it and be forgot forever.</p>
<p>Everybody said it was a real beautiful oath, and asked Tom if he got it
out of his own head. He said, some of it, but the rest was out of
pirate-books and robber-books, and every gang that was high-toned had it.</p>
<p>Some thought it would be good to kill the <i>families</i> of boys that
told the secrets. Tom said it was a good idea, so he took a pencil
and wrote it in. Then Ben Rogers says:</p>
<p>“Here’s Huck Finn, he hain’t got no family; what you
going to do ’bout him?”</p>
<p>“Well, hain’t he got a father?” says Tom Sawyer.</p>
<p>“Yes, he’s got a father, but you can’t never find him
these days. He used to lay drunk with the hogs in the tanyard, but
he hain’t been seen in these parts for a year or more.”</p>
<p>They talked it over, and they was going to rule me out, because they said
every boy must have a family or somebody to kill, or else it wouldn’t
be fair and square for the others. Well, nobody could think of
anything to do—everybody was stumped, and set still. I was
most ready to cry; but all at once I thought of a way, and so I offered
them Miss Watson—they could kill her. Everybody said:</p>
<p>“Oh, she’ll do. That’s all right. Huck can
come in.”</p>
<p>Then they all stuck a pin in their fingers to get blood to sign with, and
I made my mark on the paper.</p>
<p>“Now,” says Ben Rogers, “what’s the line of
business of this Gang?”</p>
<p>“Nothing only robbery and murder,” Tom said.</p>
<p>“But who are we going to rob?—houses, or cattle, or—”</p>
<p>“Stuff! stealing cattle and such things ain’t robbery; it’s
burglary,” says Tom Sawyer. “We ain’t burglars. That
ain’t no sort of style. We are highwaymen. We stop
stages and carriages on the road, with masks on, and kill the people and
take their watches and money.”</p>
<p>“Must we always kill the people?”</p>
<p>“Oh, certainly. It’s best. Some authorities think
different, but mostly it’s considered best to kill them—except
some that you bring to the cave here, and keep them till they’re
ransomed.”</p>
<p>“Ransomed? What’s that?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. But that’s what they do. I’ve
seen it in books; and so of course that’s what we’ve got to
do.”</p>
<p>“But how can we do it if we don’t know what it is?”</p>
<p>“Why, blame it all, we’ve <i>got</i> to do it. Don’t
I tell you it’s in the books? Do you want to go to doing
different from what’s in the books, and get things all muddled up?”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s all very fine to <i>say</i>, Tom Sawyer, but how
in the nation are these fellows going to be ransomed if we don’t
know how to do it to them?—that’s the thing I want to get at.
Now, what do you reckon it is?”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t know. But per’aps if we keep them
till they’re ransomed, it means that we keep them till they’re
dead.”</p>
<p>“Now, that’s something <i>like</i>. That’ll
answer. Why couldn’t you said that before? We’ll
keep them till they’re ransomed to death; and a bothersome lot they’ll
be, too—eating up everything, and always trying to get loose.”</p>
<p>“How you talk, Ben Rogers. How can they get loose when there’s
a guard over them, ready to shoot them down if they move a peg?”</p>
<p>“A guard! Well, that <i>is</i> good. So somebody’s
got to set up all night and never get any sleep, just so as to watch them.
I think that’s foolishness. Why can’t a body take a club
and ransom them as soon as they get here?”</p>
<p>“Because it ain’t in the books so—that’s why.
Now, Ben Rogers, do you want to do things regular, or don’t
you?—that’s the idea. Don’t you reckon that the
people that made the books knows what’s the correct thing to do?
Do you reckon <i>you</i> can learn ’em anything? Not by
a good deal. No, sir, we’ll just go on and ransom them in the
regular way.”</p>
<p>“All right. I don’t mind; but I say it’s a fool
way, anyhow. Say, do we kill the women, too?”</p>
<p>“Well, Ben Rogers, if I was as ignorant as you I wouldn’t let
on. Kill the women? No; nobody ever saw anything in the books
like that. You fetch them to the cave, and you’re always as
polite as pie to them; and by and by they fall in love with you, and never
want to go home any more.”</p>
<p>“Well, if that’s the way I’m agreed, but I don’t
take no stock in it. Mighty soon we’ll have the cave so cluttered up
with women, and fellows waiting to be ransomed, that there won’t be
no place for the robbers. But go ahead, I ain’t got nothing to say.”</p>
<p>Little Tommy Barnes was asleep now, and when they waked him up he was
scared, and cried, and said he wanted to go home to his ma, and didn’t
want to be a robber any more.</p>
<p>So they all made fun of him, and called him cry-baby, and that made him
mad, and he said he would go straight and tell all the secrets. But
Tom give him five cents to keep quiet, and said we would all go home and
meet next week, and rob somebody and kill some people.</p>
<p>Ben Rogers said he couldn’t get out much, only Sundays, and so he
wanted to begin next Sunday; but all the boys said it would be wicked to
do it on Sunday, and that settled the thing. They agreed to get
together and fix a day as soon as they could, and then we elected Tom
Sawyer first captain and Jo Harper second captain of the Gang, and so
started home.</p>
<p>I clumb up the shed and crept into my window just before day was breaking.
My new clothes was all greased up and clayey, and I was dog-tired.</p>
<p><SPAN name="c02-28" id="c02-28"></SPAN><br/> <br/></p>
<div class="fig"> <ANTIMG alt="c02-28.jpg (27K)" src="images/c02-28.jpg" style="width:100%;" /><br/>
</div>
<p><br/></p>
<hr />
<p><SPAN name="c03-29" id="c03-29"></SPAN><br/> <br/> <SPAN name="c3" id="c3"></SPAN></p>
<div class="fig"> <ANTIMG alt="c03-29.jpg (160K)" src="images/c03-29.jpg" style="width:100%;" /><br/>
</div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />