CHAPTER IX. FINDING OF JUBITER DUNLAP
IN the next two or three days Dummy he got to be powerful popular. He went associating around with the neighbors, and they made much of him, and was proud to have such a rattling curiosity among them. They had him to breakfast, they had him to dinner, they had him to supper; they kept him loaded up with hog and hominy, and warn’t ever tired staring at him and wondering over him, and wishing they knowed more about him, he was so uncommon and romantic. His signs warn’t no good; people couldn’t understand them and he prob’ly couldn’t himself, but he done a sight of goo-gooing, and so everybody was satisfied, and admired to hear him go it. He toted a piece of slate around, and a pencil; and people wrote questions on it and he wrote answers; but there warn’t anybody could read his writing but Brace Dunlap. Brace said he couldn’t read it very good, but he could manage to dig out the meaning most of the time. He said Dummy said he belonged away off somers and used to be well off, but got busted by swindlers which he had trusted, and was poor now, and hadn’t any way to make a living.
Everybody praised Brace Dunlap for being so good to that stranger. He let him have a little log-cabin all to himself, and had his niggers take care of it, and fetch him all the vittles he wanted.
Dummy was at our house some, because old Uncle Silas was so afflicted himself, these days, that anybody else that was afflicted was a comfort to him. Me and Tom didn’t let on that we had knowed him before, and he didn’t let on that he had knowed us before. The family talked their troubles out before him the same as if he wasn’t there, but we reckoned it wasn’t any harm for him to hear what they said. Generly he didn’t seem to notice, but sometimes he did.
Well, two or three days went along, and everybody got to getting uneasy about Jubiter Dunlap. Everybody was asking everybody if they had any idea what had become of him. No, they hadn’t, they said: and they shook their heads and said there was something powerful strange about it. Another and another day went by; then there was a report got around that praps he was murdered. You bet it made a big stir! Everybody’s tongue was clacking away after that. Saturday two or three gangs turned out and hunted the woods to see if they could run across his remainders. Me and Tom helped, and it was noble good times and exciting. Tom he was so brimful of it he couldn’t eat nor rest. He said if we could find that corpse we would be celebrated, and more talked about than if we got drownded.
The others got tired and give it up; but not Tom Sawyer – that warn’t his style. Saturday night he didn’t sleep any, hardly, trying to think up a plan; and towards daylight in the morning he struck it. He snaked me out of bed and was all excited, and says:
“Quick, Huck, snatch on your clothes – I’ve got it! Bloodhound!”
In two minutes we was tearing up the river road in the dark towards the village. Old Jeff Hooker had a bloodhound, and Tom was going to borrow him. I says:
“The trail’s too old, Tom – and besides, it’s rained, you know.”
“It don’t make any difference, Huck. If the body’s hid in the woods anywhere around the hound will find it. If he’s been murdered and buried, they wouldn’t bury him deep, it ain’t likely, and if the dog goes over the spot he’ll scent him, sure. Huck, we’re going to be celebrated, sure as you’re born!”
He was just a-blazing; and whenever he got afire he was most likely to get afire all over. That was the way this time. In two minutes he had got it all ciphered out, and wasn’t only just going to find the corpse – no, he was going to get on the track of that murderer and hunt HIM down, too; and not only that, but he was going to stick to him till – “Well,” I says, “you better find the corpse first; I reckon that’s a-plenty for to-day. For all we know, there AIN’T any corpse and nobody hain’t been murdered. That cuss could ‘a’ gone off somers and not been killed at all.”
That graveled him, and he says:
“Huck Finn, I never see such a person as you to want to spoil everything. As long as YOU can’t see anything hopeful in a thing, you won’t let anybody else. What good can it do you to throw cold water on that corpse and get up that selfish theory that there ain’t been any murder? None in the world. I don’t see how you can act so. I wouldn’t treat you like that, and you know it. Here we’ve got a noble good opportunity to make a ruputation, and – ”
“Oh, go ahead,” I says. “I’m sorry, and I take it all back. I didn’t mean nothing. Fix it any way you want it. HE ain’t any consequence to me. If he’s killed, I’m as glad of it as you are; and if he – ”
“I never said anything about being glad; I only – ”
“Well, then, I’m as SORRY as you are. Any way you druther have it, that is the way I druther have it. He – ”
“There ain’t any druthers ABOUT it, Huck Finn; nobody said anything about druthers. And as for – ”
He forgot he was talking, and went tramping along, studying. He begun to get excited again, and pretty soon he says:
“Huck, it’ll be the bulliest thing that ever happened if we find the body after everybody else has quit looking, and then go ahead and hunt up the murderer. It won’t only be an honor to us, but it’ll be an honor to Uncle Silas because it was us that done it. It’ll set him up again, you see if it don’t.”
But Old Jeff Hooker he throwed cold water on the whole business when we got to his blacksmith shop and told him what we come for.
“You can take the dog,” he says, “but you ain’t a-going to find any corpse, because there ain’t any corpse to find. Everybody’s quit looking, and they’re right. Soon as they come to think, they knowed there warn’t no corpse. And I’ll tell you for why. What does a person kill another person for, Tom Sawyer? – answer me that.”
“Why, he – er – ”
“Answer up! You ain’t no fool. What does he kill him FOR?”
“Well, sometimes it’s for revenge, and – ”
“Wait. One thing at a time. Revenge, says you; and right you are. Now who ever had anything agin that poor trifling no-account? Who do you reckon would want to kill HIM? – that rabbit!”
Tom was stuck. I reckon he hadn’t thought of a person having to have a REASON for killing a person before, and now he sees it warn’t likely anybody would have that much of a grudge against a lamb like Jubiter Dunlap. The blacksmith says, by and by:
“The revenge idea won’t work, you see. Well, then, what’s next? Robbery? B’gosh, that must ‘a’ been it, Tom! Yes, sirree, I reckon we’ve struck it this time. Some feller wanted his gallus-buckles, and so he – ”
But it was so funny he busted out laughing, and just went on laughing and laughing and laughing till he was ‘most dead, and Tom looked so put out and cheap that I knowed he was ashamed he had come, and he wished he hadn’t. But old Hooker never let up on him. He raked up everything a person ever could want to kill another person about, and any fool could see they didn’t any of them fit this case, and he just made no end of fun of the whole business and of the people that had been hunting the body; and he said:
“If they’d had any sense they’d ‘a’ knowed the lazy cuss slid out because he wanted a loafing spell after all this work. He’ll come pottering back in a couple of weeks, and then how’ll you fellers feel? But, laws bless you, take the dog, and go and hunt his remainders. Do, Tom.”
Then he busted out, and had another of them forty-rod laughs of hisn. Tom couldn’t back down after all this, so he said, “All right, unchain him;” and the blacksmith done it, and we started home and left that old man laughing yet.
It was a lovely dog. There ain’t any dog that’s got a lovelier disposition than a bloodhound, and this one knowed us and liked us. He capered and raced around ever so friendly, and powerful glad to be free and have a holiday; but Tom was so cut up he couldn’t take any intrust in him, and said he wished he’d stopped and thought a minute before he ever started on such a fool errand. He said old Jeff Hooker would tell everybody, and we’d never hear the last of it.
So we loafed along home down the back lanes, feeling pretty glum and not talking. When we was passing the far corner of our tobacker field we heard the dog set up a long howl in there, and we went to the place and he was scratching the ground with all his might, and every now and then canting up his head sideways and fetching another howl.
It was a long square, the shape of a grave; the rain had made it sink down and show the shape. The minute we come and stood there we looked at one another and never said a word. When the dog had dug down only a few inches he grabbed something and pulled it up, and it was an arm and a sleeve. Tom kind of gasped out, and says:
“Come away, Huck – it’s found.”
I just felt awful. We struck for the road and fetched the first men that come along. They got a spade at the crib and dug out the body, and you never see such an excitement. You couldn’t make anything out of the face, but you didn’t need to. Everybody said:
“Poor Jubiter; it’s his clothes, to the last rag!”
Some rushed off to spread the news and tell the justice of the peace and have an inquest, and me and Tom lit out for the house. Tom was all afire and ‘most out of breath when we come tearing in where Uncle Silas and Aunt Sally and Benny was. Tom sung out:
“Me and Huck’s found Jubiter Dunlap’s corpse all by ourselves with a bloodhound, after everybody else had quit hunting and given it up; and if it hadn’t a been for us it never WOULD ‘a’ been found; and he WAS murdered too – they done it with a club or something like that; and I’m going to start in and find the murderer, next, and I bet I’ll do it!”
Aunt Sally and Benny sprung up pale and astonished, but Uncle Silas fell right forward out of his chair on to the floor and groans out:
“Oh, my God, you’ve found him NOW!”
CHAPTER X. THE ARREST OF UNCLE SILAS
THEM awful words froze us solid. We couldn’t move hand or foot for as much as half a minute. Then we kind of come to, and lifted the old man up and got him into his chair, and Benny petted him and kissed him and tried to comfort him, and poor old Aunt Sally she done the same; but, poor things, they was so broke up and scared and knocked out of their right minds that they didn’t hardly know what they was about. With Tom it was awful; it ‘most petrified him to think maybe he had got his uncle into a thousand times more trouble than ever, and maybe it wouldn’t ever happened if he hadn’t been so ambitious to get celebrated, and let the corpse alone the way the others done. But pretty soon he sort of come to himself again and says:
“Uncle Silas, don’t you say another word like that. It’s dangerous, and there ain’t a shadder of truth in it.”
Aunt Sally and Benny was thankful to hear him say that, and they said the same; but the old man he wagged his head sorrowful and hopeless, and the tears run down his face, and he says;
“No – I done it; poor Jubiter, I done it!”
It was dreadful to hear him say it. Then he went on and told about it, and said it happened the day me and Tom come – along about sundown. He said Jubiter pestered him and aggravated him till he was so mad he just sort of lost his mind and grabbed up a stick and hit him over the head with all his might, and Jubiter dropped in his tracks. Then he was scared and sorry, and got down on his knees and lifted his head up, and begged him to speak and say he wasn’t dead; and before long he come to, and when he see who it was holding his head, he jumped like he was ‘most scared to death, and cleared the fence and tore into the woods, and was gone. So he hoped he wasn’t hurt bad.
“But laws,” he says, “it was only just fear that gave him that last little spurt of strength, and of course it soon played out and he laid down in the bush, and there wasn’t anybody to help him, and he died.”
Then the old man cried and grieved, and said he was a murderer and the mark of Cain was on him, and he had disgraced his family and was going to be found out and hung. But Tom said:
“No, you ain’t going to be found out. You DIDN’T kill him. ONE lick wouldn’t kill him. Somebody else done it.”
“Oh, yes,” he says, “I done it – nobody else. Who else had anything against him? Who else COULD have anything against him?”
He looked up kind of like he hoped some of us could mention somebody that could have a grudge against that harmless no-account, but of course it warn’t no use – he HAD us; we couldn’t say a word. He noticed that, and he saddened down again, and I never see a face so miserable and so pitiful to see. Tom had a sudden idea, and says:
“But hold on! – somebody BURIED him. Now who – ”
He shut off sudden. I knowed the reason. It give me the cold shudders when he said them words, because right away I remembered about us seeing Uncle Silas prowling around with a long-handled shovel away in the night that night. And I knowed Benny seen him, too, because she was talking about it one day. The minute Tom shut off he changed the subject and went to begging Uncle Silas to keep mum, and the rest of us done the same, and said he MUST, and said it wasn’t his business to tell on himself, and if he kept mum nobody would ever know; but if it was found out and any harm come to him it would break the family’s hearts and kill them, and yet never do anybody any good. So at last he promised. We was all of us more comfortable, then, and went to work to cheer up the old man. We told him all he’d got to do was to keep still, and it wouldn’t be long till the whole thing would blow over and be forgot. We all said there wouldn’t anybody ever suspect Uncle Silas, nor ever dream of such a thing, he being so good and kind, and having such a good character; and Tom says, cordial and hearty, he says:
“Why, just look at it a minute; just consider. Here is Uncle Silas, all these years a preacher – at his own expense; all these years doing good with all his might and every way he can think of – at his own expense, all the time; always been loved by everybody, and respected; always been peaceable and minding his own business, the very last man in this whole deestrict to touch a person, and everybody knows it. Suspect HIM? Why, it ain’t any more possible than – ”
“By authority of the State of Arkansaw, I arrest you for the murder of Jubiter Dunlap!” shouts the sheriff at the door.
It was awful. Aunt Sally and Benny flung themselves at Uncle Silas, screaming and crying, and hugged him and hung to him, and Aunt Sally said go away, she wouldn’t ever give him up, they shouldn’t have him, and the niggers they come crowding and crying to the door and – well, I couldn’t stand it; it was enough to break a person’s heart; so I got out.
They took him up to the little one-horse jail in the village, and we all went along to tell him good-bye; and Tom was feeling elegant, and says to me, “We’ll have a most noble good time and heaps of danger some dark night getting him out of there, Huck, and it’ll be talked about everywheres and we will be celebrated;” but the old man busted that scheme up the minute he whispered to him about it. He said no, it was his duty to stand whatever the law done to him, and he would stick to the jail plumb through to the end, even if there warn’t no door to it. It disappointed Tom and graveled him a good deal, but he had to put up with it.
But he felt responsible and bound to get his uncle Silas free; and he told Aunt Sally, the last thing, not to worry, because he was going to turn in and work night and day and beat this game and fetch Uncle Silas out innocent; and she was very loving to him and thanked him and said she knowed he would do his very best. And she told us to help Benny take care of the house and the children, and then we had a good-bye cry all around and went back to the farm, and left her there to live with the jailer’s wife a month till the trial in October.