Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fifteenth 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 15 A few minutes later, Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, waiting toward the Illinois shore.

Before the depth reached his middle, he was halfway over.

The current would permit no more waiting now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards.

He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected.

However, he reached the shore finally and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out.

He put his hand on its jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore with streaming garments.

Shortly before 10:00, he came out into an open place opposite the village and saw the ferry boat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank.

Everything was quiet under the blinking stars.

He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes, and climbed into the skiff that did y'all duty.

At the boat stern.

He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting.

Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to cast off.

A minute or two later, the skiff's head was standing high up against the boat's swell and the voyage was begun.

Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night.

At the end of a long twelve or 15 minutes, the wheel stopped and Tom slipped overboard and slam ashore in the dusk landing 50 yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers.

He flew along unfrequented alleys and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence.

He climbed over, approached the l and looked in at the sitting room window, for a light was burning there.

There sat Aunt Polly, Sid Mary and Joe Harper's mother grouped together, talking.

They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door.

Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch.

Then he pressed gently, and the door yielded a crack.

He continued pushing cautiously and quaking every time it creaked till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees.

So he put his head through and.

Began warily what makes the candle blow so?

Said Aunt Polly.

Tom hurried up.

Why, that door's open, I believe why, of course it is.

No end of strange things.

Now go long and shut it.

Sid Tom disappeared under the bed just in time.

He lay and breathed himself for a time and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot.

But as I was saying, said Aunt Polly, he warrant bad so to say, only mischievous, only just giddy and harem scare him, you know.

He warrant any more responsible than a cold.

He never meant any harm, and he was the best hearted boy that ever was.

And she began to cry.

It was just so with my Joe, always full of his devilment and up to every kind of mischief.

But he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be.

In laws blessed me to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream.

Never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour.

And I never to see him again in this world.

Never.

Never.

Poor abused a boy.

Mrs.

Harper sobbed as if her heart would break.

I hope Tom's better off where he is, said Sid.

But if he'd been better in some.

Ways sid Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it.

Not a word against my Tom now that he's gone.

God'll take care of him.

Never you trouble yourself, sir.

Oh, Mrs.

Harper, I don't know how to give him up.

I don't know how to give him up.

He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me most.

The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

But it's so hard.

Oh, it's so hard.

Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling.

Little did I know then how soon.

Oh, if it was to do over again, I'd hug him and bless him for it.

Yes, I know how you feel, Mrs.

Harper.

I know just exactly how you feel.

No longer ago than yesterday noon my Tom took and filled the cat full of painkiller and I did think the Creter would tear the house down and God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble.

Poor boy.

Poor dead boy.

But he's out of all his troubles now and the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach.

But this memory was too much for the old lady and she broke entirely down.

Tom was snuffling now himself and more in pity of himself than anybody else.

He could hear Mary crying and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time he began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before.

Still he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy.

And that theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature too.

But he resisted and lay still.

He went on listening and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim.

Then the small raft had been missed.

Next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should hear something soon.

The wiseheads had put this and that together and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below presently.

But toward noon the raft had been found lodged against the Missouri shore some five or 6 miles below the village.

And then hope perished.

They must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall, if not sooner.

It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid Channel since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore.

This was Wednesday night.

If the bodies continued missing until Sunday all hope would be given over and the funerals would be preached on that morning.

Tom shuddered.

Mrs.

Harper gave a sobbing good night and turned to go.

Then, with a mutual impulse, the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good consoling cry and then parted.

Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her want in her good night to Sid and Mary.

Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart.

Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice that he was weltering in tears again long before she was through.

He had to keep still long after she went to bed for she kept making broken hearted ejaculations from time to time tossing unrestfully and turning over.

But at last she was still only moaning a little in her sleep.

Now the boy stole out rose gradually by the bedside shaded the candlelight with his hand and stood regarding her.

His heart was full of pity for her.

He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle.

But something occurred to him, and he lingered, considering, his face lighted with a happy solution of his thought.

He put the bark hastily in his pocket.

Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straight away it made his stealthy exit.

Latching the door behind him, he threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless, except that there was a watchman who always turned in and slept like a graven image.

He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream.

When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work.

He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him.

He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it, and that might end in revelations.

So he stepped ashore and entered the woods.

He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home stretch.

The night was far spent.

It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar.

He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream.

A little later he paused, dripping upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say, no, Tom's.

True blue, huck, and he'll come back.

He won't desert.

He knows that would be a disgrace.

To a pirate, and Tom's too proud.

For that sort of thing.

He's up to something or other now.

I wonder what.

Well, the things is ours anyway, ain't they?

Pretty near, but not yet.

Huck.

The writing says they are.

If he ain't back here to breakfast which he is.

Exclaimed Tom with fine dramatic effect, stepping Granly into camp.

A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, tom recounted and adorned his adventures.

They were a vain and boastful company of heroes.

When the tale was done, then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore.

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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