BENNY she was looking pretty sober, and she sighed
some, now and then; but pretty soon she got to
asking about Mary, and Sid, and Tom's aunt Polly,
and then Aunt Sally's clouds cleared off and she got in
a good humor and joined in on the questions and was
her lovingest best self, and so the rest of the supper
went along gay and pleasant. But the old man he
didn't take any hand hardly, and was absent-minded
and restless, and done a considerable amount of sigh-
ing; and it was kind of heart-breaking to see him so
sad and troubled and worried.
By and by, a spell after supper, come a nigger and
knocked on the door and put his head in with his old
straw hat in his hand bowing and scraping, and said his
Marse Brace was out at the stile and wanted his
brother, and was getting tired waiting supper for him,
and would Marse Silas please tell him where he was?
I never see Uncle Silas speak up so sharp and fractious
before. He says:
"Am I his brother's keeper?" And then he kind
of wilted together, and looked like he wished he hadn't
spoken so, and then he says, very gentle: "But you
needn't say that, Billy; I was took sudden and irritable,
and I ain't very well these days, and not hardly respon-
sible. Tell him he ain't here."
And when the nigger was gone he got up and
walked the floor, backwards and forwards, mumbling
and muttering to himself and plowing his hands through
his hair. It was real pitiful to see him. Aunt Sally she
whispered to us and told us not to take notice of him,
it embarrassed him. She said he was always thinking
and thinking, since these troubles come on, and she
allowed he didn't more'n about half know what he was
about when the thinking spells was on him; and she
said he walked in his sleep considerable more now than
he used to, and sometimes wandered around over the
house and even outdoors in his sleep, and if we catched
him at it we must let him alone and not disturb him.
She said she reckoned it didn't do him no harm, and
may be it done him good. She said Benny was the
only one that was much help to him these days. Said
Benny appeared to know just when to try to soothe
him and when to leave him alone.
So he kept on tramping up and down the floor and
muttering, till by and by he begun to look pretty tired;
then Benny she went and snuggled up to his side and
put one hand in his and one arm around his waist and
walked with him; and he smiled down on her, and
reached down and kissed her; and so, little by little
the trouble went out of his face and she persuaded him
off to his room. They had very petting ways together,
and it was uncommon pretty to see.
Aunt Sally she was busy getting the children ready
for bed; so by and by it got dull and tedious, and me
and Tom took a turn in the moonlight, and fetched up
in the watermelon-patch and et one, and had a good
deal of talk. And Tom said he'd bet the quarreling
was all Jubiter's fault, and he was going to be on hand
the first time he got a chance, and see; and if it was
so, he was going to do his level best to get Uncle Silas
to turn him off.
And so we talked and smoked and stuffed water-
melons much as two hours, and then it was pretty late,
and when we got back the house was quiet and dark,
and everybody gone to bed.
Tom he always seen everything, and now he see that
the old green baize work-gown was gone, and said it
wasn't gone when he went out; so he allowed it was
curious, and then we went up to bed.
We could hear Benny stirring around in her room,
which was next to ourn, and judged she was worried a
good deal about her father and couldn't sleep. We
found we couldn't, neither. So we set up a long time,
and smoked and talked in a low voice, and felt pretty
dull and down-hearted. We talked the murder and the
ghost over and over again, and got so creepy and
crawly we couldn't get sleepy nohow and noway.
By and by, when it was away late in the night and all
the sounds was late sounds and solemn, Tom nudged
me and whispers to me to look, and I done it, and there
we see a man poking around in the yard like he didn't
know just what he wanted to do, but it was pretty dim
and we couldn't see him good. Then he started for
the stile, and as he went over it the moon came out
strong, and he had a long-handled shovel over his
shoulder, and we see the white patch on the old work-
gown. So Tom says:
"He's a-walking in his sleep. I wish we was
allowed to follow him and see where he's going to.
There, he's turned down by the tobacker-field. Out
of sight now. It's a dreadful pity he can't rest no
We waited a long time, but he didn't come back any
more, or if he did he come around the other way; so
at last we was tuckered out and went to sleep and had
nightmares, a million of them. But before dawn we
was awake again, because meantime a storm had come
up and been raging, and the thunder and lightning
was awful, and the wind was a-thrashing the trees
around, and the rain was driving down in slanting
sheets, and the gullies was running rivers. Tom says:
"Looky here, Huck, I'll tell you one thing that's
mighty curious. Up to the time we went out last night
the family hadn't heard about Jake Dunlap being mur-
dered. Now the men that chased Hal Clayton and
Bud Dixon away would spread the thing around in a
half an hour, and every neighbor that heard it would
shin out and fly around from one farm to t'other and
try to be the first to tell the news. Land, they don't
have such a big thing as that to tell twice in thirty year!
Huck, it's mighty strange; I don't understand it."
So then he was in a fidget for the rain to let up, so
we could turn out and run across some of the people
and see if they would say anything about it to us.
And he said if they did we must be horribly surprised
We was out and gone the minute the rain stopped.
It was just broad day then. We loafed along up the
road, and now and then met a person and stopped and
said howdy, and told them when we come, and how we
left the folks at home, and how long we was going to
stay, and all that, but none of them said a word about
that thing; which was just astonishing, and no mistake.
Tom said he believed if we went to the sycamores we
would find that body laying there solitary and alone,
and not a soul around. Said he believed the men
chased the thieves so far into the woods that the thieves
prob'ly seen a good chance and turned on them at last,
and maybe they all killed each other, and so there
wasn't anybody left to tell.
First we knowed, gabbling along that away, we was
right at the sycamores. The cold chills trickled down
my back and I wouldn't budge another step, for all
Tom's persuading. But he couldn't hold in; he'd GOT
to see if the boots was safe on that body yet. So he
crope in -- and the next minute out he come again with
his eyes bulging he was so excited, and says:
"Huck, it's gone!"
I WAS astonished! I says:
"Tom, you don't mean it."
"It's gone, sure. There ain't a sign of it. The
ground is trampled some, but if there was any blood
it's all washed away by the storm, for it's all puddles
and slush in there."
At last I give in, and went and took a look myself;
and it was just as Tom said -- there wasn't a sign of a
"Dern it," I says, "the di'monds is gone. Don't
you reckon the thieves slunk back and lugged him off,
"Looks like it. It just does. Now where'd they
hide him, do you reckon?"
"I don't know," I says, disgusted, "and what's
more I don't care. They've got the boots, and that's
all I cared about. He'll lay around these woods a
long time before I hunt him up."
Tom didn't feel no more intrust in him neither, only
curiosity to know what come of him; but he said we'd
lay low and keep dark and it wouldn't be long till the
dogs or somebody rousted him out.
We went back home to breakfast ever so bothered
and put out and disappointed and swindled. I warn't
ever so down on a corpse before.