Tom Sawyer, Detective

Chapter 8

TALKING WITH THE GHOST

IT warn't very cheerful at breakfast. Aunt Sally she looked old and

tired and let the children snarl and fuss at one another and didn't seem

to notice it was going on, which wasn't her usual style; me and Tom had a

plenty to think about without talking; Benny she looked like she hadn't

had much sleep, and whenever she'd lift her head a little and steal a

look towards her father you could see there was tears in her eyes; and as

for the old man, his things stayed on his plate and got cold without him

knowing they was there, I reckon, for he was thinking and thinking all

the time, and never said a word and never et a bite.

By and by when it was stillest, that n****r's head was poked in at the

door again, and he said his Marse Brace was getting powerful uneasy about

Marse Jubiter, which hadn't come home yet, and would Marse Silas please

--He was looking at Uncle Silas, and he stopped there, like the rest of

his words was froze; for Uncle Silas he rose up shaky and steadied

himself leaning his fingers on the table, and he was panting, and his

eyes was set on the n****r, and he kept swallowing, and put his other

hand up to his throat a couple of times, and at last he got his words

started, and says:

"Does he--does he--think--WHAT does he think! Tell him--tell him--" Then

he sunk down in his chair limp and weak, and says, so as you could hardly

hear him: "Go away--go away!"

The n****r looked scared and cleared out, and we all felt--well, I don't

know how we felt, but it was awful, with the old man panting there, and

his eyes set and looking like a person that was dying. None of us could

budge; but Benny she slid around soft, with her tears running down, and

stood by his side, and nestled his old gray head up against her and begun

to stroke it and pet it with her hands, and nodded to us to go away, and

we done it, going out very quiet, like the dead was there.

Me and Tom struck out for the woods mighty solemn, and saying how

different it was now to what it was last summer when we was here and

everything was so peaceful and happy and everybody thought so much of

Uncle Silas, and he was so cheerful and simple-hearted and pudd'n-headed

and good--and now look at him. If he hadn't lost his mind he wasn't muck

short of it. That was what we allowed.

It was a most lovely day now, and bright and sunshiny; and the further

and further we went over the hills towards the prairie the lovelier and

lovelier the trees and flowers got to be and the more it seemed strange

and somehow wrong that there had to be trouble in such a world as this.

And then all of a sudden I catched my breath and grabbed Tom's arm, and

all my livers and lungs and things fell down into my legs.

"There it is!" I says. We jumped back behind a bush shivering, and Tom

says:

"'Sh!--don't make a noise."

It was setting on a log right in the edge of a little prairie, thinking.

I tried to get Tom to come away, but he wouldn't, and I dasn't budge by

myself. He said we mightn't ever get another chance to see one, and he

was going to look his fill at this one if he died for it. So I looked

too, though it give me the fan-tods to do it. Tom he HAD to talk, but he

talked low. He says:

"Poor Jakey, it's got all its things on, just as he said he would. NOW

you see what we wasn't certain about--its hair. It's not long now the way

it was: it's got it cropped close to its head, the way he said he would.

Huck, I never see anything look any more naturaler than what It does."

"Nor I neither," I says; "I'd recognize it anywheres."

"So would I. It looks perfectly solid and genuwyne, just the way it done

before it died."

So we kept a-gazing. Pretty soon Tom says:

"Huck, there's something mighty curious about this one, don't you know?

IT oughtn't to be going around in the daytime."

"That's so, Tom--I never heard the like of it before."

"No, sir, they don't ever come out only at night--and then not till

after twelve. There's something wrong about this one, now you mark my

words. I don't believe it's got any right to be around in the daytime.

But don't it look natural! Jake was going to play deef and dumb here, so

the neighbors wouldn't know his voice. Do you reckon it would do that if

we was to holler at it?"

"Lordy, Tom, don't talk so! If you was to holler at it I'd die in my

tracks."

"Don't you worry, I ain't going to holler at it. Look, Huck, it's

a-scratching its head--don't you see?"

"Well, what of it?"

"Why, this. What's the sense of it scratching its head? There ain't

anything there to itch; its head is made out of fog or something like

that, and can't itch. A fog can't itch; any fool knows that."

"Well, then, if it don't itch and can't itch, what in the nation is it

scratching it for? Ain't it just habit, don't you reckon?"

"No, sir, I don't. I ain't a bit satisfied about the way this one acts.

I've a blame good notion it's a bogus one--I have, as sure as I'm

a-sitting here. Because, if it--Huck!"

"Well, what's the matter now?"

"YOU CAN'T SEE THE BUSHES THROUGH IT!"

"Why, Tom, it's so, sure! It's as solid as a cow. I sort of begin to

think--"

"Huck, it's biting off a chaw of tobacker! By George, THEY don't

chaw--they hain't got anything to chaw WITH. Huck!"

"I'm a-listening."

"It ain't a ghost at all. It's Jake Dunlap his own self!"

"Oh your granny!" I says.

"Huck Finn, did we find any corpse in the sycamores?"

"No."

"Or any sign of one?"

"No."

"Mighty good reason. Hadn't ever been any corpse there."

"Why, Tom, you know we heard--"

"Yes, we did--heard a howl or two. Does that prove anybody was killed?

Course it don't. And we seen four men run, then this one come walking out

and we took it for a ghost. No more ghost than you are. It was Jake

Dunlap his own self, and it's Jake Dunlap now. He's been and got his

hair cropped, the way he said he would, and he's playing himself for a

stranger, just the same as he said he would. Ghost? Hum!--he's as sound

as a nut."

Then I see it all, and how we had took too much for granted. I was

powerful glad he didn't get killed, and so was Tom, and we wondered which

he would like the best--for us to never let on to know him, or how? Tom

reckoned the best way would be to go and ask him. So he started; but I

kept a little behind, because I didn't know but it might be a ghost,

after all. When Tom got to where he was, he says:

"Me and Huck's mighty glad to see you again, and you needn't be afeared

we'll tell. And if you think it'll be safer for you if we don't let on

to know you when we run across you, say the word and you'll see you can

depend on us, and would ruther cut our hands off than get you into the

least little bit of danger."

First off he looked surprised to see us, and not very glad, either; but

as Tom went on he looked pleasanter, and when he was done he smiled, and

nodded his head several times, and made signs with his hands, and says:

"Goo-goo--goo-goo," the way deef and dummies does.

Just then we see some of Steve Nickerson's people coming that lived

t'other side of the prairie, so Tom says:

"You do it elegant; I never see anybody do it better. You're right; play

it on us, too; play it on us same as the others; it'll keep you in

practice and prevent you making blunders. We'll keep away from you and

let on we don't know you, but any time we can be any help, you just let

us know."

Then we loafed along past the Nickersons, and of course they asked if

that was the new stranger yonder, and where'd he come from, and what was

his name, and which communion was he, Babtis' or Methodis', and which

politics, Whig or Democrat, and how long is he staying, and all them

other questions that humans always asks when a stranger comes, and

animals does, too. But Tom said he warn't able to make anything out of

deef and dumb signs, and the same with goo-gooing. Then we watched them

go and bullyrag Jake; because we was pretty uneasy for him. Tom said it

would take him days to get so he wouldn't forget he was a deef and dummy

sometimes, and speak out before he thought. When we had watched long

enough to see that Jake was getting along all right and working his signs

very good, we loafed along again, allowing to strike the schoolhouse

about recess time, which was a three-mile tramp.

I was so disappointed not to hear Jake tell about the row in the

sycamores, and how near he come to getting killed, that I couldn't seem

to get over it, and Tom he felt the same, but said if we was in Jake's

fix we would want to go careful and keep still and not take any chances.

The boys and girls was all glad to see us again, and we had a real good

time all through recess. Coming to school the Henderson boys had come

across the new deef and dummy and told the rest; so all the scholars was

chuck full of him and couldn't talk about anything else, and was in a

sweat to get a sight of him because they hadn't ever seen a deef and

dummy in their lives, and it made a powerful excitement.

Tom said it was tough to have to keep mum now; said we would be heroes if

we could come out and tell all we knowed; but after all, it was still

more heroic to keep mum, there warn't two boys in a million could do it.

That was Tom Sawyer's idea about it, and reckoned there warn't anybody

could better it.