Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the 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 Nine At 09:30 that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed as usual.

They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep.

Tom lay awake and waited in restless impatience.

When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten.

This was despair.

He would have tossed and fidgeted as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid, so he lay still and stared up into the dark.

Everything was dismally still by and by.

Out of the stillness, little scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves.

The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice.

Old beams began to crack mysteriously.

The stairs creaked faintly.

Evidently spirits were abroad.

A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber.

And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate began.

Next, the ghastly ticking of a death watch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder.

It meant that somebody's days were numbered.

Then the howl of a far off dog rose on the night air and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance.

Tom was in agony.

At last he was satisfied that time.

Had ceased and eternity begun.

He began to doze in spite of himself.

The clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it.

And then there came mingling with his half formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwalling.

The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him.

A cry of Scat, you devil.

And the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake.

And a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the l on all fours.

He meowed with caution once or twice as he went, then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground.

Huckleberry Finn was there with his dead cat.

The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom.

At the end of an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard.

It was a graveyard of the old fashioned Western kind.

It was on a hill about a.

Mile and a half from the village.

It had a crazy board fence around it which leaned inward in places and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere.

Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery.

All the old graves were sunken in.

There was not a tombstone on the place.

Round topped, worm eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none sacred to the memory of so and so had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been red on the most of them now, even if there had been light.

A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead complaining at being disturbed.

The boys talked little and only under their breath for the time and the place and the pervading.

Solemn tea and silence oppressed their spirits.

They found the sharp new heap they were seeking and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave.

Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time.

The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness.

Tom's reflections grew oppressive.

He must force some talk, so he said in a whisper, Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?

Huckleberry whispered, I wished I knowed.

It's awful solemn like, ain't it?

I bet it is.

There was a considerable pause while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly.

Then Tom whispered, say, Hucky do you reckon Haas Williams hears us talking?

Of course he does.

Least his spirit does.

Tom, after a pause, I wished I'd said Mr.

Williams, but I never meant any harm.

Everybody calls him Haas.

A body can't be too particular how they talk about these you're dead people, Tom.

This was a damper and conversation.

Died again.

Presently Tom ceased his comrade's arm and said, shh.

What is it, Tom?

And the two clung together with beating hearts.

Shh.

There tis again.

Didn't you hear it?

Ay, there.

Now you hear it.

Lord Tom.

They're coming.

They're coming.

Sure.

What'll we do?

I don't know.

Think they'll see us?

Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats.

I wish I hadn't come.

Oh, don't be afeared.

I don't believe they'll bother us.

We ain't doing any harm.

If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all.

I'll try to, Tom, but Lord, I'm all a shiver.

Listen.

The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed.

A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard.

Look.

See there.

Whispered Tom.

What is it?

It's devil fire.

Oh, Tom, this is awful.

Some vague figures approached through the gloom.

Swinging an old fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light.

Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder, it's the devil, sure enough.

Three of them Lordy Tom were goners.

Can you pray?

I'll try, but don't you be a feared.

They ain't going to hurt us.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I SHH.

What is it, Huck?

They're humans.

One of them is, anyway.

One of them's old muff.

Potter's voice.

No taint so is it?

I bet I know it.

Don't you stir nor budge.

He ain't sharp enough to notice us.

Drunk.

The same as usual, likely.

Blamed old rip.

All right, I'll keep still.

Now they're stuck.

Can't find it.

Here they come again.

Now they're hot.

Cold again, hot again.

Red hot.

They're pintered right this time.

Say, Huck, I know another of them voices.

It's Joe.

That's so.

That murder and half breed.

I'd rather.

Them devils a dernsight.

What can they be up to?

The whisper died wholly out now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boy's hiding place.

Here it is, said the third voice, and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Dr.

Robinson.

Potter and Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it.

They cast down their load and began to open the grave.

The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees.

He was so close the boys could have touched him.

Hurry, men, he said in a low voice.

The moon might come out at any moment.

They growled a response and went on digging for some time.

There was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mold and gravel.

It was very monotonous.

Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull, woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground.

They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground.

The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face.

The barrel was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket and bound to its place with the rope.

Potter took out a large spring knife and cut the dangling end of the.

Rope and then said, now the cussed things ready?

Saw bones, and you'll just out another five, or here she'll stays.

That's the talk, said Joe.

Look here, what does this mean?

Said the doctor.

You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you.

Yes, then you've done more than that.

Said Joe, approaching the Doctor, who was now standing.

Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I weren't there for any good.

And when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant.

Did you think I'd forget?

The blood ain't in me for nothing.

And now I've got you and you got to settle, you know.

He was threatening the Doctor with his fist in his face.

By this time the Doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the Rufian on the ground.

Potter dropped his knife and exclaimed, here.

Now, don't you hit my pard.

And the next moment he had grappled with the Doctor, and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels.

Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife and went creeping catlike and stooping round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity.

All at once the Doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of William's grave and felled Potter to the earth with it.

And in the same instant the half breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast.

He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood.

And in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark.

Presently, when the moon emerged again, joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them.

The Doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two, and was still.

The half breed muttered, that score is settled, d*** you.

Then he robbed the body, after which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand and sat down on the dismantled coffin.

Three, four, five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan.

His hand closed upon the knife.

He raised it, glanced at it and let it fall with a shudder.

Then he sat up, pushing the body from him and gazed at it.

And then around him, confusedly, his eyes met Joe's.

Lord.

How is this Joe?

He said.

It's a dirty business, said Joe without moving.

What did you do it for?

Aye, I've never done it.

Look here, that kind of talk won't.

Wash.

Potter trembled and grew white.

I thought I'd got sober.

I had no business to drink tonight.

But it's in my head yet worse than when we started here.

I'm all in a muddle.

Can't recollect anything of it, hardly.

Tell me, Joe.

Honest now, old feller.

Did I do it, Joe?

I never meant to pawn my soul into honor.

I never meant to, Joe.

Tell me how it was, Joe.

Oh, it's awful.

And him so young and promising.

Why, you, too was scuffling, and he.

Fetched you one with the headboard.

And you fell flat.

And then up you come, all reeling and staggering like and snatched the knife.

And jammed it into him just as.

He fetched you another awful clip.

And here you've laid as dead as a wedge till now.

Oh, I didn't know what I was doing.

I wish I may die this minute if I did.

It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon.

I never used a weapon in my life before, Joe.

I've fought, but never with weapons.

They all say that.

Joe, don't tell.

Say you won't tell, Joe.

That's a good feller.

I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too.

Don't you remember?

You won't tell, will you, Joe?

And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stalid murderer and clasped his appealing hands.

No.

You've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you.

There, now.

That's as fair as the man can say.

Oh, Joe, you're an angel.

I'll bless you for this longest day I live.

And Potter began to cry.

Come now, that's enough of that.

This ain't any time for blubbering.

You be off yonder way, and I'll go this move now.

And don't leave any tracks behind you.

Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run.

The half breed stood looking after him.

He muttered, if he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be.

Afraid to come back after it to.

Such a place by himself.

Chicken heart.

Two or three minutes later, the murdered man, the Blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moons.

The stillness was complete again, too.

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

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Lane so many adventures and mountains we can climb.

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