The Adventures of Tom Sawyer: Chapter 31-32

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, Chapter thirty one.
Found and Lost again. Now to return to Tom and
Becky's share in the picnic, they tripped along the murky
isles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar
wonders of the cave, wonders dubbed with rather over descriptive
names such as the drawing Room, the Cathedral, Aladdin's Palace,

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and so on. Presently, the hide and seek frolicking began,
and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal, until
the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome. Then they
wandered down a sinuous avenue, holding their candles aloft and
reading the tangled webwork of names, dates, post office addresses,
and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed

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in the candle smoke. Still drifting along and talking, they
scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of
the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their
own names under an overhea hanging shelf and moved on.
Presently they came to a place where a little stream
of water trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone
sediment with it had in the slow dragging ages, formed

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a laced and ruffled niagara in gleaming an imperishable stone.
Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to
illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained
a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between
narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a
discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they

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made a smoke mark for future guidance, and started upon
their quest. They wound this way and that far down
into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark,
and branched off in search of novelties to tell the
upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern,
from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of

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the length and circumference of a man's life. They walked
all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it
by one of the numerous passages that opened into it.
This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring whose basin
was encrusted with a frost work of glittering crystals, It
was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were
supported by many fantastic pillars, which had been formed by

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the joining of great stalac tights and stalac mites together,
the result of the ceaseless water drip of centuries under
the roof, vast knots of bats had packed themselves together,
thousands in a bunch. The lights disturbed the creatures, and
they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously
at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger

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of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and
hurried her into the first corridor that offered, and none
too soon for a bat struck Becky's light out with
its wing while she was passing out of the cavern.
The bats chased the children a good distance, but the
fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at
last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a

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subterranean lake shortly which stretched its dim length away until
its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to
explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best
to sit down and rest awhile first. Now for the
first time. The deep stillness of the place laid a
clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said,

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why I didn't notice, But it seems ever so long
since I heard of any of the others. Come to think, Becky,
we are away down below them, and I don't know
how far away north or south or east or whichever
it is. We couldn't hear them here. Becky grew apprehensive.
I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom, we'd

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better start back, Yes, I reckon, we better, Perhaps we better.
Can you find the way, Tom, It's all a mixed
up crookedness to me. I reckon I could find it.
But then the bats, if they put both of our
candles out, it will be an awful fix. Let's try
some other way so as not to go through there. Well,
but I hope we won't get lost. It would be

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so awful, And the girl shuddered at the thought of
the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor and traversed
it in silence a long way, glancing at each new
opening to see if there was anything familiar about the
look of it. But they were all strange. Every time
Tom made an examination Becky would watch his face for
an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily, Oh, it's

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all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to
it right away. But he felt less and less hopeful
with each failure, and presently began to turn off into
diverging avenues at sheer random in desperate hope of finding
the one that was wanted. He still said it was
all right, but there was such a leaden dread at
his heart that the words had lost their ring and

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sounded just as if he had said all is lost.
Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear,
and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they
would come. At last. She said, Oh, Tom, never mind
the bats, Let's go back that way. We seem to
get worse and worse off all the time. Tom stopped listen,

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said he profound silence, silence so deep that even their
breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call
went echoing down the empty aisles, and died out in
the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple
of mocking laughter. Oh don't do it again, Tom, it
is too horrid, said Becky, it is horrid, But I better, Becky.

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They might hear us, you know, And he shouted again.
The mite was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter.
It so confessed the perishing hope. The children stood still
and listened, but there was no result. Tom turned upon
the back track at once and hurried his steps. It
was but a little while before a certain indecision in

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his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky. He could
not find his way back. Oh, Tom, you didn't make
any marks, Becky. I was such a fool, Such a fool.
I never thought we might want to come back. No,
I I can't find the way. It's all mixed up, Tom, Tom,
We're lost. We're lost. We never can get out of

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this awful place. Oh why did we ever leave the others?
She sank to the ground and burst into such a
frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea
that she might die or lose her reason. He sat
down by her and put his arms round her. She
buried her face in his bosom. She clung to him.
She poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the

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far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged
her to pluck up Hope again, and she said she
could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself forgetting
her into this miserable situation, and this had a better effect.
She said she would try to Hope again. She would
get up and follow wherever he might lead, if only
he would not talk like that any more, for he

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was no more to blame than she, she said. So
they moved on again, aimlessly, simply at random. All they
could do was to move, keep moving for a little while.
Hope made a show of reviving, not with any reason
to back it, but only because it is its nature
to revive when the spring has not been taken out
of it by age and familiarity with failure. By and

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by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This
economy meant so much. Words were not needed. Becky understood,
and her Hope died again. She knew that Tom had
a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets,
yet he must economize. By and by fatigue began to
assert its claims. The children tried to pay no attention,

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for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when
time was grown to be so precious. Moving in some direction,
in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit.
But to sit down was to invite death and shorten
its pursuit. At last, Becky's frail limbs refused to carry
her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and

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they talked of home and the friends there, and the
comfortable beds, and above all the light. Becky cried, and
Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her,
but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use and
sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that
she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat

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looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth
and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams, and by
and by a smile dawned and rested. There. The peaceful
face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit,
and his thoughts wandered away to by gone times and
dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky

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woke up with a breezy little laugh, but it was
stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it, Oh,
how could I sleep? I wish I never never had waked. No, no,
I don't, Tom, don't look, so I won't say it again.
I'm glad you've slept, Becky. You'll feel rested now, and
we'll find the way out. We can try, Tom, but

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I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon,
we're going there. Maybe not? Maybe not. Cheer up, Becky,
and let's go on trying. They rose up and wandered along,
hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how
long they had been in the cave, but all they
knew was that it seemed days and weeks, And yet

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it was plain that this could not be, for their
candles were not gone yet. A long time after this,
they could not tell how long. Tom said they must
go softly and listen to dripping water. They must find
a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it
was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet
Becky said she thought she could go on a little farther.

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She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not
understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle
to the wall in front of them with some clay.
Thought was soon busy. Nothing was said for some time.
Then Becky broke the silence. Tom, I'm so hungry. Tom
took something out of his pocket. Do you remember this?

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Said he? Becky almost smiled. It's our wedding cake. Tom. Yes,
I wish it was as big as a barrel, for
it's all we've got. I saved it from the picnic
for us to dream on Tom, the way crownup people
do with wedding cake. But it'll be our. She dropped
the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and

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Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety.
There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast
with by and by, Becky suggested that they move on again.
Tom was silent a moment, and he said, Becky, can
you bear it if I tell you something. Becky's face paled,
but she thought she could. Well. Then, Becky, we must

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stay here where there's water to drink. That little piece
is our last candle. Becky gave loose to tears and wailings.
Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with
little effect. At length, Becky said Tom. Well, Becky, they'll
miss us and hunt for us. Yes, they will, certainly

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they will. Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom, Why
I reckon? Maybe they are? I hope they are. When
would they miss us, Tom? When they get back to
the boat, I reckon, Tom, it might be dark. Then
would they notice we hadn't come? I don't know, but anyway,
your mother would miss you as soon as they got home.
A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses,

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and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky
was not to have gone home that night. The children
became silent and thoughtful. In a moment, a new burst
of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in
his mind had struck hers, also that the Sabbath morning
might be half spent. Before Missus Thatcher discovered that Becky
was not at Missus Harper's. The children unfastened their eyes

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upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly
and pitilessly away, saw the half inch of wicks stand alone.
At last, saw the feeble flame rise and fall climb,
the thin column of smoke linger at its top a moment,
and then the horror of utter darkness reigned. How long
afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness

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that she was crying in Tom's arms. Neither could tell.
All that they knew was that, after what seemed a
mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead
stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom
said it might be Sunday, now, maybe Monday. He tried
to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive.

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All her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must
have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search
was going on. He would shout and maybe someone would come.
He tried it, but in the darkness the distant echoes
sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The
hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again.

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A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left.
They divided and ate it, but they seemed hungrier than before.
The poor morsel of food only wetted desire. By and by,
Tom said, sh did you hear that? Both held their
breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest
far off shout Instantly, Tom answered it, and, leading Becky

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by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction.
Presently he listened again. Again, the sound was heard, and
apparently a little nearer, it's them, said Tom, they're coming.
Come along, Becky, We're all right now. The joy of
the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however,
because pitfalls were somewhat common and had to be guarded against.

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They shortly came to one and had to stop. It
might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred.
There was no passing it at any rate. Tom got
down on his breast and reached as far down as
he could no bottom. They must stay there and wait
until the searchers came. They listened evidently, the distant shoutings
were growing more distant. A moment or two more and

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they had gone altogether. The heart sinking misery of it.
Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of
no use. He talked hopefully to Becky, but an age
of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The
children groped their way back to the spring. The weary
time dragged on. They slept again and awoke, famished, and

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woe stricken, Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now,
an idea struck him. There were some side passages near
at hand. It would be better to explore some of
these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness.
He took a kite line from his pocket, tied it
to a projection, and he and Becky started. Tom in

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the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At
the end twenty paces, the corridor ended in a jumping
off place. Tom got down on his knees and felt
below and then as far round the corner as he
could reach with his hands. Conveniently, he made an effort
to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and
at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand

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holding a candle appeared from behind a rock. Tom lifted
up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed
by the body it belonged to injun Joe's. Tom was paralyzed.
He could not move. He was vastly gratified the next
moment to see the Spaniard take to his heels and
get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had

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not recognized his voice and come over and killed him
for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised
the voice. Without doubt that was it, he reasoned. Tom's
fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to
himself that if he had strength enough to get back
to the spring, he would stay there, and nothing should
tempt him to run the risk of meeting injun Joe again.

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He was careful to keep from Becky what it was
he had seen. He told her he had only shouted
for luck. But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears
in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring
and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke, tortured
with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be

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Wednesday or Thursday, or even Friday or Saturday now, and
that the search had been given over. He proposed to
explore another passage. He felt willing to risk injun Joe
and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She
had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused.
She said she would wait now where she was and die.

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It would not be long. She told Tom to go
with his kite line and explore if he chose, But
she implored him to come back every little while and
speak to her, and she made him promise that when
the awful time came, he would stay by her and
hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her
with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a

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show of being confident of finding the searchers or an
escape from the cave. Then he took the kite line
in his hand and went groping down one of the
passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and
sick with bodings of coming doom. End of chapter thirty one,
Chapter thirty two, turn out there found. Tuesday afternoon came

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and wane to the twilight. The village of Saint Petersburg
still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public
prayers had been offered up for them, and many and
many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart
in it, but still no good news came from the cave.
The majority of the searchers had given up the quest
and gone back to their daily vocations, saying that it

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was plain the children could never be found. Missus Thatcher
was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious.
People said it was heart breaking to hear her call
her child, and raised her head and listened a whole
minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again
with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy,
and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village

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went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn away.
In the middle of the night, a wild peal burst
from the village bells, and in a moment the streets
were swarming with frantic, half clad people who shouted, turn out,
turn out, They're found, They're found. Tin pans and horns
were added to the din. The population massed itself and
moved toward the river. Met the children coming in an

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open carriage drawn by shouting citizens. Thronged around. It, joined
its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street,
roaring Huzzah after Hazza. The village was illuminated. Nobody went
to bed again. It was the greatest night the little
town had ever seen. During the first half hour, a
procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the

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saved ones and kissed them. Wheazed, Missus Thatcher's hand tried
to speak, but couldn't, and drifted out, raining tears all
over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Missus
Thatcher's nearly so it would be complete. However, as soon
as the messenger dispatched with a great news to the
cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay

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upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him, and
told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many
striking additions to adorn it withal, and closed with a
description of how he left Becky and went on an
exploring expedition. How he followed two avenues as far as
his kite line would reach, How he followed a third
to the fullest stretch of the kite line, and was

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about to turn back when he glimpsed a far off
speck that looked like daylight, dropped the line and groped
toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole,
and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by. And if it
had only happened to be night, he would not have
seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored
that passa anymore. He told how he went back for

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Becky and broke the good news, and she told him
not to fret her with such stuff, for she was
tired and knew she was going to die and wanted to.
He described how he labored with her and convinced her,
and how she almost died for joy when she had
groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight.
How he pushed his way out at the hole and

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then helped her out. How they sat there and cried
for gladness. How some men came along in a skiff,
and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and
their famished condition. How the men didn't believe the wild
tale at first, because said they you are five miles
down the river below the valley the cave is in.
Then took them aboard, rode to a house, gave them supper,

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made them rest till two or three hours after dark,
and then brought them home before day dawn. Judge Thatcher
and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out
in the cave by the twine clues they had strung
behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days
and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were
not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and

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Becky soon discovered. They were bed ridden all of Wednesday
and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired
and worn all the time. Tom got about a little
on Thursday, was down town Friday and nearly as whole
as ever Saturday, but Becky did not leave her room
until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had
passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness

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and went to see him on Friday, but could not
be admitted to the bedroom. Neither could he on Saturday
or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was
warned to keep still about his adventure and introduced no
exciting topic. The widow Douglas, stayed by to see that
he obeyed. At home, Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event,
also that the ragged man's body had eventually been found

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in the river near the ferry landing. He had been
drowned while trying to escape, Perhaps about a fortnight after
Tom's rescue from the cave. He started off to visit Huck,
who had grown plenty strong enough now to hear exciting talk,
and Tom had some that would interest him. He thought.
Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped

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to see Becky. The judge and some friends set Tom
to talking, and someone asked him ironically if he wouldn't
like to go to the cave again. Tom said he
thought he wouldn't mind it. The judge said, well, there
are others just like you, Tom. I've not the least doubt,
but we have taken care of that. Nobody will get
lost in that cave anymore. Why because I had its

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big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago and
triple locked, and I've got the keys. Tom turned as
white as a sheet. What's the matter? Boy? Here? Run?
Somebody fetch a glass of water. The water was brought
and thrown into Tom's face. Ah, now you're all right?
What was the matter with you? Tom? Oh? Judge injun

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Joe's in the cave end of thirty two