Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twenty-third chapter of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Check out our website, or join our Facebook Group!

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our YouTube!

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

Take a look.

Let's see what we can find.

Take it chapter by chapter, one bite at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take it word for wordline by.

One bite at a time.

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

If you want to know what's coming next and vote on upcoming books, sign up for our newsletter at Bit at a Timebooks.com.

You'll also find our new t shirts in the shop, including podcast shirts and quote shirts from your favorite classic novels.

Be sure to follow my show on your favorite podcast platform so you get all the new episodes.

You can find most of our links in the show notes, but also our website.

Bite at a Timebooks.com includes all of the links for our show, including to our patreon to support the show, and YouTube, where we have special behind the narration of the episodes.

We're part of the byte at a Time Books Productions network.

If you'd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic authors to write their novels and what was going on in the world at the time, check out the Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story podcast.

Wherever you listen to podcasts, please note while we try to keep the text as close to the original as possible, some words have been changed to honor the marginalized communities who've identified the words as harmful and to stay in alignment with Bite at a Time book's brand values.

Today we'll be continuing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain.

Chapter 23 at last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred and vigorously.

The murder trial came on in the court.

It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately.

Tom could not get away from it.

Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as feelers.

He did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip.

It kept him in a cold shiver all the time.

He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him.

It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while, to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer.

Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet.

Huck, have you ever told anybody about that?

About what?

You know what.

Of course I haven't.

Never a word.

Never a solitary word, so help me.

What makes you ask?

Well, I was afeared.

Why, Tom Sawyer.

We wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out.

You know that.

Tom felt more comfortable after a pause.

Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell?

Could they?

Get me to tell?

Why?

If I wanted that half breed devil to drowned me.

They could get me to tell.

They ain't no different way.

Well, that's all right, then.

I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum.

But let's swear again anyway.

It's more.

Sure, I'm agreed.

So they swore again with dread solemn tease.

What is the talk around talk?

I've heard a power of it.

Talk?

Well, it's just muff Potter.

Muff Potter.

Muff putter all the time.

It keeps me in a sweat constant.

So they want to hide Summers.

That's just the same way they go on round me.

I reckon he's a goner.

Don't you feel sorry for him sometimes?

Most always.

Most always he ain't no account.

But then he ain't ever done anything to hurt anybody.

Just fishes a little to get money to get drunk on and loafs around considerable.

But, Lord, we all do.

That least wise, most of us.

Preachers and such like.

But he's kind of good.

He gave me half a fish once when there weren't enough for two.

And lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck.

Well, he's mended kites for me, huck and knitted hooks onto my line.

I wish we could get him out of there.

My, we couldn't get him out, Tom.

And besides, 20th do any good.

They'd catch him again.

Yes, they would.

But I hate to hear him abuse him so like the dickens when he never done that.

I do too, Tom.

Lord, I hear him say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before.

Yes, they talk like that all the time.

I've heard him say that if he was to get free, they'd lynch him.

And they'd do it too.

The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort.

As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties.

But nothing happened.

There seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive.

The boys did as they had often done before went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches.

He was on the ground floor, and there were no guards.

His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before it cut deeper than ever.

This time they felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said, you've been mighty good to me, boys.

Better than anybody else in this town, and I don't forget it.

I don't often.

I says to myself, says I, I used to mend all the boys kites and things and show him where the good fishing places was and befriend him what I could.

And now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble.

But Tom Don't and Huck Don't, they don't forget him, says I.

And don't forget them.

Well, boys, I'd done an awful thing.

Drunken crazy at the time.

That's the only way I account for it.

And now I got to swing for it.

And it's right.

Right and best too, I reckon.

Hope so, anyway.

Well, we won't talk about that.

I don't want to make you feel bad you've befriended me but what I want to say is don't you ever get drunk?

Then you won't ever get here.

Stand a little further west.

So that's it.

It's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble.

And there don't none come here but yawn.

Good, friendly faces.

Good friendly faces.

Get up on one another's backs and let me touch them.

That's it.

Shake hands.

Urine will come through the bars, but mine's too big.

Little hands and weak.

But they've helped Muff Potter a power and they'd help him more if they could.

Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors.

The next day and the day after.

He hung about the courtroom drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in but forcing himself to stay out.

Huck was having the same experience.

They studiously avoided each other.

Each wandered away from time to time but the same dismal fascination always brought them back.

Presently, Tom kept his ears open when idler sauntered out of the courtroom but invariably heard distressing news.

The toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter.

At the end of the second day, the village talk was to the effect that Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be.

Tom was out late that night and came to bed through the window.

He was in a tremendous state of excitement.

It was hours before he got to sleep.

All the village flocked to the courthouse the next morning for this was to be the great day.

Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience.

After a long wait, the jury filed in and took their places.

Shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless was brought in with chains upon him and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him.

No less conspicuous was Joe stalid as ever.

There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court.

The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed.

These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating.

Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered and that he immediately sneaked away.

After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said, Take the witness.

The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment but dropped them again when his own counsel said, I have no questions to ask him.

The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse.

Counsel for the prosecution said, Take the witness.

I have no questions to ask him, potter's lawyer replied.

A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession.

Take the witness.

Counsel for Potter declined to question him.

The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance.

Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort?

Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder, they were allowed to leave the stand without being cross questioned.

Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in a graveyard upon that morning, which all present remembered so well, was brought out by credible witnesses.

But none of them were cross examined by Potter's lawyer.

The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench.

Counsel for the prosecution now said, by the oath of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we assassin this awful crime beyond all possibility of question upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar.

We rest our case here.

A groan escaped from poor Potter and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro.

While a painful silence reigned in the courtroom.

Many men were moved and many women's compassion testified itself in tears.

Counsel for the defense rose and said, your Honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink.

We have changed our mind.

We shall not offer that plea.

Then to the clerk.

Call Thomas Sawyer.

A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even accepting Potters.

Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand.

The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared.

The oath was administered.

Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the 17 June about the hour of midnight?

Tom glanced at Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him.

The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come.

After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house here in the graveyard.

A little bit louder, please.

Don't be afraid.

You were in the graveyard.

A contemptuous smile flitted across Joe's face.

Were you anywhere near Horse William's grave?

Yes, sir.

Speak up just a trifle louder.

How near were you?

Near as I am to you.

Were you hidden or not?

I was hid.

Where?

Behind the elms.

That's on the edge of the grave.

Joe gave a barely perceptible start.

Anyone with you?

Yes, sir.

I went there with wait.

Wait a moment.

Never mind mentioning your companion's name.

We'll produce him at the proper time.

Did you carry anything there with you?

Tom hesitated and looked confused.

Speak out, my boy.

Don't be diffident.

The truth is always respectable.

What did you take there?

Only a dead cat.

There was a ripple of mirth which the court checked will produce the skeleton of that cat.

Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred.

Tell it in your own way.

Don't skip anything and don't be afraid.

Tom began hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject, his words flowed more and more easily.

In a little while, every sound ceased but his own voice.

Every eye fixed itself upon him with parted lips and bated breath.

The audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time wrapped in the ghastly fascinations of the tale.

The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell joe jumped with a knife and crash quick as lightning the half breed sprang for a window tore his way through all opposers and was gone.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of the adventures of Tom Sawyer.

Don't forget to sign up for our newsletter at Bite at a Timebooks.com and check out the shop.

You can check out the show notes or our website, Bite at a Timebooks.com, for the rest of the links for our show.

We'd love to hear from you on social media as well.

Take a look in the book and let's see what we can find.

Take a chapter by chapter, one at a time.

So many adventures and mountains we can climb.