Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/perg3/public_html/mark-twain.ru/engine/classes/templates.class.php on line 68 Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/perg3/public_html/mark-twain.ru/engine/classes/templates.class.php on line 72 Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/perg3/public_html/mark-twain.ru/engine/modules/static.php on line 145 Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/perg3/public_html/mark-twain.ru/engine/classes/templates.class.php on line 60 Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/perg3/public_html/mark-twain.ru/engine/classes/templates.class.php on line 64 Том Сойер
Chapter I
 
  "Tom!"
No answer.
"Tom!"
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You Tom!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the
room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never
looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state
pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service-she
could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked
perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough
for the furniture to hear:
"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll-"
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching
under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the
punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
"I never did see the beat of that boy!"
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the
Tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So
she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted:
"Y-o-u-u Tom!"
There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to
seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.
"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in
there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that
truck?"
"I don't know, aunt."
"Well, I know. It's jam-that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you
didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch."
The switch hovered in the air-the peril was desperate-
"My! Look behind you, aunt!"
The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The
lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and
disappeared over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle
laugh.
"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks
enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old
fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as
the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and
how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he
can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out
to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I
can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the
Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the
Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know.
He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's
boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every
time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit
him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of
few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so.
He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"]
I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's
mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having
holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT
to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child."
Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home
barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood
and split the kindlings before supper-at least he was there in time to
tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's
younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his
part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no
adventurous, troublesome ways.
While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity
offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very
deep-for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other
simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed
with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to
contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said
she:
"Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Powerful warm, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?"
A bit of a scare shot through Tom-a touch of uncomfortable suspicion.
He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said:
"No'm-well, not very much."
The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said:
"But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect
that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing
that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew
where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move:
"Some of us pumped on our heads-mine's damp yet. See?"
Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of
circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new
inspiration:
"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to
pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!"
The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt
collar was securely sewed.
"Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and
been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed
cat, as the saying is-better'n you look. THIS time."
She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom
had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.
But Sidney said:
"Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread,
but it's black."
"Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!"
But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:
"Siddy, I'll lick you for that."
In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into
the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them-one needle
carried white thread and the other black. He said:
"She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes
she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to
geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other-I can't keep the run of 'em. But I
bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!"
He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very
well though-and loathed him.
Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles.
Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a
man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down
and drove them out of his mind for the time-just as men's misfortunes are
forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a
valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and
he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar
bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue
to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music-the
reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy.
Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down
the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude.
He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet-no
doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the
advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer.
The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom
checked his whistle. A stranger was before him-a boy a shade larger than
himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity
in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well
dressed, too-well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His
cap was a dainty thing, his closebuttoned blue cloth roundabout was new
and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on-and it was only
Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified
air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the
splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the
shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy
spoke. If one moved, the other moved-but only sidewise, in a circle; they
kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:
"I can lick you!"
"I'd like to see you try it."
"Well, I can do it."
"No you can't, either."
"Yes I can."
"No you can't."
"I can."
"You can't."
"Can!"
"Can't!"
An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
"What's your name?"
"'Tisn't any of your business, maybe."
"Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business."
"Well why don't you?"
"If you say much, I will."
"Much-much-MUCH. There now."
"Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with
one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to."
"Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it."
"Well I WILL, if you fool with me."
"Oh yes-I've seen whole families in the same fix."
"Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!"
"You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it
off-and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs."
"You're a liar!"
"You're another."
"You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up."
"Aw-take a walk!"
"Say-if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock
off'n your head."
"Oh, of COURSE you will."
"Well I WILL."
"Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for?
Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid."
"I AIN'T afraid."
"You are."
"I ain't."
"You are."
Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently
they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
"Get away from here!"
"Go away yourself!"
"I won't."
"I won't either."
So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both
shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But
neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and
flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:
"You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can
thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too."
"What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger
than he is-and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both
brothers were imaginary.]
"That's a lie."
"YOUR saying so don't make it so."
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
"I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand
up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep."
The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
"Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it."
"Don't you crowd me now; you better look out."
"Well, you SAID you'd do it-why don't you do it?"
"By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it."
The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out
with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were
rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the
space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes,
punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust
and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of
battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his
fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he.
The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying-mainly from rage.
"Holler 'nuff!"-and the pounding went on.
At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up
and said:
"Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next
time."
The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing,
snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and
threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To
which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as
soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and
hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an
antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived.
He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to
come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and
declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad,
vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said
he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy.
He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in
at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and
when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his
Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its
firmness.