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

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

Chapter 29 the first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news.

Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before.

Both Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest.

He saw her, and they had an exhausting good time playing hispie and goalie keeper with a crowd of their schoolmates.

The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way.

Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long promised and long delayed picnic, and she consented.

The child's delight was boundless and Toms not more moderate.

The invitations were sent out before sunset and straightaway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation.

Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's meow and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with next day.

But he was disappointed.

No signal came that night.

Morning came eventually, and by ten or 11:00 a giddy and rollicking company were gathering at Judge Thatcher's and everything was ready for a start.

It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presents.

The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of 18 and a few young gentlemen of 23.

Or thereabouts the old steam ferry boat was chartered for the occasion.

Presently, the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision baskets.

Sid was sick and had to miss the fun.

Mary remained at home to entertain him.

The last thing Mrs.

Thatcher said to Becky was you'll not get back till late.

Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that lived near the fairylanding child.

Then I'll stay with Susie.

Harper mama.

Very well.

And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble.

Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky, say, I'll tell you what we'll do.

Instead of going to Joe Harper's, we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas's.

She'll have ice cream.

She has it most every day.

Dead loads of it, and she'll be awful glad to have us.

Oh, that will be fun.

Then Becky reflected a moment and said, but what will Mama say?

How will she ever know?

The girl turned the idea over in her mind and said reluctantly, I reckon it's wrong, but shocks.

Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm?

All she wants is that you'll be safe.

And I bet you she'd have said go if she'd have thought of it.

I know she would.

The Widow Douglas's splendid hospitality was a tempting bait.

It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day.

So it was decided to say nothing to anybody about the night's program.

Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal.

The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations.

Still, he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas's.

And why should he give it up?

He reasoned the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come tonight?

The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure and boy like.

He determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time.

That day, 3 miles below town, the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up.

The crowd swarmed ashore, and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter.

All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with and by and by.

The Rovers straggled back to camp, fortified with responsible appetites.

And then the destruction of the good things began.

After the feast, there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks.

By and by, somebody shouted, who is ready for the cave?

Everybody was.

Bundles of candles were procured and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill.

The mouth of the cave was up the hillside, an opening shaped like a letter A.

Its massive open door stood on.

Barred within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice house and walled by nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat.

It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun.

But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again the moment a candle was lighted.

There was a general rush upon the owner of it.

A struggle and a galliant defense followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase.

But all things have an end.

By and by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction 60ft overhead, the main avenue was not more than eight or 10ft wide.

Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand.

For MacDougall's Cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked isles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere.

It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms and never find the end of the cave, that he might go down and down and still down into the earth.

And it was just the same labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them.

No man knew the cave.

That was an impossible thing.

Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion.

Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as anyone.

The procession moved along the main avenue some three quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again.

Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the known ground.

By and by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting hilarious smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings dobbed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day.

Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time, and that night was about at hand.

The clinging bell had been calling for half an hour.

However, this sort of clothes to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory.

When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time.

But the captain of the craft, Huck, was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf.

He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death.

He wondered what boat it was and why she did not stop at the wharf.

And then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business.

The night was growing cloudy and dark.

10:00 came, and the noise of vehicles ceased.

Scattered lights began to wink out.

All straggling foot passengers disappeared.

The village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts.

11:00 came, and the tavern lights were put out.

Darkness everywhere now.

Hawk waited what seemed a weary, long time, but nothing happened.

His faith was weakening.

Was there any use?

Was there really any use?

Why not give it up and turn in?

A noise fell upon his ear.

He was all attention.

In an instant, the alley door closed.

Softly he sprang to the corner of the brick store.

The next moment, two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm.

It must be that box.

So they were going to remove the treasure.

Why call Tom now?

It would be absurd.

The men would get away with the box and never be found again.

No, he would stick to their wake and follow them.

He would trust the darkness for security, for discovery.

So, communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men catlike with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible.

They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left.

Up across street they went straight ahead then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill.

This they took.

They passed by the old Welshman's house, halfway up the hill without Hesitating, and still climbed upward.

Good thought, huck.

They'll bury it in the old quarry.

But they never stopped.

At the quarry they passed on up the summit.

They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumac bushes and were at once hidden in the gloom hut, closed up and shortened his distance now, for they would never be able to see him.

He trotted along a while, then, slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast, moved on a piece, then stopped altogether.

Listened.

No sound.

None saved that.

He seemed to hear the beating of his own heart.

The hooting of an owl came over the hill.

Ominous sound, but no footsteps.

Heavens, was everything lost.

He was about to spring with winged feet when a man cleared his throat, not 4ft from him.

Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again.

And then he stood there shaking, as if a dozen eggs had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground.

He knew where he was.

He knew he was within five steps of the still leading into Widow Douglas's grounds.

Very well, he thought.

Let them bury it there.

It won't be hard to find.

Now.

There was a voice.

A very low voice.

Joe's.

D*** her.

Maybe she's got company.

There's lights, late as it is.

I can't see any.

This was that stranger's voice, the stranger of the haunted house.

A deadly chill went to Huck's heart.

This then, was the revenge job.

His thought was to fly.

Then he remembered that Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once and maybe these men were going to murder her.

He wished he'd err adventure to warn her, but he knew he didn't dare.

They might come and catch him.

He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Joe's next.

Which was because the bush is in your way now.

This way.

Now you see, don't you?

Yes.

Well, there is company there, I reckon.

Better give it up.

Give it up and I just leave in this country forever.

Give it up and maybe never have another chance.

I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her.

Swag, you may have it, but her husband was rough on me.

Many times he was rough on me.

And mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant.

And that ain't all.

It ain't a millionth part of it.

He had me horse whipped.

Horse whipped in front of the jail with all the town looking on.

Horse whipped, do you understand?

He took advantage of me and died.

But I'll take it out of her.

Oh, don't kill her.

Don't do that.

Kill?

Who said anything about killing?

I would kill him if he was here, but not her.

When you want to get revenge on a woman, you don't kill her, Bosch.

You go for her looks.

You slit her nostrils, you notch her ears like a sow.

My God, that's keep your opinion to yourself.

It'll be safest for you.

I'll tie her to the bed.

If she bleeds to death, is that my fault?

I'll not cry if she does.

My friend, you'll help me in this thing for my sake.

That's why you're here.

I mightn't be able alone.

If you flinch, I'll kill you.

Do you understand that?

And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her.

And then I reckon nobody will ever know about who done this business.

Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it.

The quicker the better.

I'm all in a shiver.

Do it now and company here.

Look here.

I'll get suspicious of you first thing you know.

No, we'll wait till the lights are out.

There's no hurry.

Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk.

So he held his breath and stepped gingerly back, planted his foot carefully and firmly.

After balancing one legged in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other, he took another step back with the same elaboration and the same risks.

Then another and another, and a twig snapped under his foot.

His breath stopped and he listened.

There was no sound.

The stillness was perfect.

His gratitude was measureless.

Now he turned in his tracks between the walls of sumac bushes, turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship, and then stepped quickly but cautiously along.

When he emerged at the quarry, he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew down.

Down he sped till he reached the Welshmen's.

He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows.

What's the row there?

Who's banging?

What do you want?

Let me in quick.

I'll tell you everything.

Why, who are you?

Huckleberry Finn.

Quick, let me in.

Huckleberry Finn.

Indeed.

It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge, but let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble.

Please don't ever tell I told you were Huck's first words when he got in.

Please don't.

I'll be killed, sure, but the Widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell.

I will tell if he'll promise you won't ever say it was me.

By George, he has got something to tell, or he wouldn't act.

So, exclaimed the old man.

Out with it.

And nobody here will ever tell, lad.

Three minutes later, the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill and just entering the sumac path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands.

Huck accompanied them no further.

He hid behind a great boulder and fell to listening.

There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden, there was an explosion of firearms and a cry.

Huck waited for no particulars.

He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.

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.

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