Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the eleventh 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 Eleven close upon the hour of noon, the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news.

No need of the as yet undreamed of telegraph.

The tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed.

Of course, the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon.

The town would have thought strangely of him if he had.

Not a gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter.

So the story ran, and it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the branch about one or 02:00 in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off suspicious circumstances, especially the washing, which was not a habit with Potter.

It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this murderer.

The public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict, but that he could not be found.

Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the sheriff was confident that he would be captured before night.

All the town was drifting toward the graveyard.

Tom's heartbreak vanished, and he joined the procession not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful unaccountable fascination drew him on, arrived at the dreadful place.

He wormed his small body through the.

Crowd and saw the dismal spectacle.

It seemed to him an age since.

He was there before somebody pinched his arm.

He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's.

They both looked elsewhere at once and.

Wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance.

But everybody was talking and intent upon the grizzly spectacle before them.

Poor fellow.

Poor young fellow.

This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers.

Enough.

Potter will hang for this if they catch him.

This was the drift of remark, and.

The minister said it was a judgment.

His hand is here now.

Tom shivered from head to heel for his eye fell upon the stolen face of Joe.

At this moment, the crowd began to sway and struggle and voices shouted it's him.

It's him.

He's coming himself.

Who?

Who?

From 20 voices.

Muff potter.

Oh, he stopped.

Look out.

He's turning.

Don't let him get away.

People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away.

He only looked doubtful and perplexed infernal impudence.

Said a bystander.

Wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon.

Didn't expect any company.

The crowd fell apart now, and the sheriff came through Ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm.

The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him when he stood before the murdered man.

He shook as with a palsy, and.

He put his face in his hands.

And burst into tears.

I didn't do it, friends, he sobbed.

Upon my word and honor, I never done it.

Who's accused you?

Shouted a voice the shot seemed to carry home.

Potter lifted his face and looked around.

Him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes.

He saw Joan, exclaimed, oh, Joe, you.

Promised me you'd never is that your knife?

And it was thrust before him by the sheriff.

Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground.

Then he said, something told me if I didn't come back and get he.

Shuddered, then waved his nervelous hand with.

A vanquished gesture and said tell him, Joe.

Tell him it ain't any use anymore.

Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring and heard the stony hearted liar reel off his serene statement.

They expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed.

And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor, betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away.

For plainly this miscant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal.

To meddle with the property of such.

A power as that.

Why didn't you leave?

Why did you want to come here for?

Somebody said I couldn't help it.

I couldn't help it, Potter moaned.

I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here.

And he fell to sobbing again.

Joe repeated his statement just as calmly a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath.

And the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil.

He was now become to them the most balefully, interesting object they had ever looked upon.

And they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face.

They inwardly resolved to watch him knights when opportunity should offer.

In the hope of getting a glimpse of his dreadmaster, joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal, and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little.

The boys thought this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction, but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked it was within 3ft of Muff Potter when it done, it tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this.

And at breakfast one morning, Sid said.

Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time.

Tom blanched and dropped his eyes.

It's a bad sign, said Aunt Polly gravely.

What you got on your mind, Tom?

Nothing I know of, but the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee.

And you do talk such stuff, Sid said.

Last night.

You said it's blood.

It's blood.

That's what it is.

You said that over and over, and you said, don't torment me so.

I'll tell.

Tell what?

What is it you'll tell?

Everything was swimming before Tom.

There's no telling what might have happened now.

But luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face, and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it.

She said, Show it's that dreadful murder.

I dream about it most every night myself.

Sometimes I dream it's me that done it.

Mary said she had been affected much the same way.

Sid seemed satisfied.

Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of a toothache for a week and tied up his jaws every night.

He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow, listening a good while at a time, and afterwards slipped the bandage back to its place again.

Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually, and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded.

If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself.

It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats and thus keeping his trouble.

Present to his mind.

Sid noticed that Tom was never corner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all the new enterprises.

He noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness, and that was strange.

And Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests and always avoided them when he could.

Sid marveled but said nothing.

However, even inquests went out of vogue at last and ceased to torture Tom's conscience every day or two during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little graded jail window and smuggled such small comforts through to the murderer as he could get hold of.

The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village and no guards were afforded for it.

Indeed, it was seldom occupied.

These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience.

The villagers had a strong desire to tar and feather Joe and ride him on a rail for body snatching.

But so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter.

So it was dropped.

He had been careful to begin both of his inquest statements with the fight without confessing the grave robbery that preceded it.

Therefore, it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present.

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'll come back tomorrow for.

The next bite of the Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

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