Chapter 32

5 min

Tuesday afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. 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 avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen 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 went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn.

Tuesday afternoon came and faded into twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered for them, along with many heartfelt private prayers. But still no good news came from the cave. Most of the searchers had given up and returned to their daily work. They said it was clear the children would never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill and often delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call for her child. She would raise her head and listen for a full minute, then wearily lower it again with a moan. Aunt Polly had sunk into a lasting sadness, and her gray hair had turned almost white. The village went to bed on Tuesday night, sad and hopeless.

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 open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah!

In the middle of the night, the village bells suddenly rang out wildly. In a moment, the streets swarmed with frantic people, still half-dressed. They shouted, “Come out! Come out! They’re found! They’re found!” Clattering tin pans and blaring horns added to the noise. The villagers gathered and headed toward the river. They met the children riding in an open carriage pulled by shouting townspeople. The crowd swarmed around the carriage and joined its journey home. Together they swept triumphantly up the main street, roaring cheer after cheer!

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 saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher’s hand, tried to speak but couldn’t—and drifted out raining tears all over the place.

The village was lit up. Nobody went back to bed. It was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. For the first half hour, a stream of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher’s house. They grabbed the rescued children and kissed them, then squeezed Mrs. Thatcher’s hand. They tried to speak but couldn’t. Then they drifted out, showering tears all over the place.

Aunt Polly’s happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher’s nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay 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 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!

Aunt Polly’s happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher’s was nearly complete. A messenger had been sent to the cave with the wonderful news. Mrs. Thatcher’s happiness would be complete as soon as the messenger reached her husband. Tom lay on a sofa, surrounded by eager listeners, and told the story of the amazing adventure. He added plenty of dramatic details to make it even more impressive. He ended by describing how he had left Becky and gone exploring. He had followed two passages as far as his kite string would reach. Then he had followed a third passage to the string’s full length. He was about to turn back when he caught sight of a distant speck that looked like daylight. He dropped the string and felt his way toward the light. He 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 passage any more! He told how he went back for 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 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, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home.

And if it had been night, he would never have seen that speck of daylight! He would not have explored that passage any further! He told how he went back for Becky and shared the good news. She told him not to bother her with such nonsense. She was tired, knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how hard he worked to convince her, and how he finally succeeded. She felt her way along until she could actually see the blue speck of daylight. Then she almost died of joy. He told how he squeezed through the hole and helped her out. They sat there and cried with happiness. Then some men came along in a small boat. Tom called to them and explained what had happened and how hungry he and Becky were. At first, the men did not believe the wild story. “Because,” they said, “you are five miles down the river from the valley where the cave is.” Then they took Tom and Becky aboard, rowed to a house, and gave them supper. They let them rest until two or three hours after dark, 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 clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news.

Before dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were found in the cave. Others had followed the string the group had left behind them. They told the group 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 Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden 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 downtown 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 and Becky soon discovered they could not quickly recover from three days and nights of struggle and hunger in the cave. They stayed in bed all Wednesday and Thursday, seeming to grow more and more tired and worn out. Tom moved around a little on Thursday and went downtown on Friday. By Saturday, he was nearly back to normal. But Becky did not leave her room until Sunday. Even then, she looked as if she had been through an illness that had drained her strength.

Tom learned of Huck’s sickness 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 introduce 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 in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps.

Tom heard that Huck was sick and went to see him on Friday, but wasn't allowed into the bedroom. He wasn't allowed in on Saturday or Sunday either. After that, he could visit every day, but was warned not to mention his adventure or bring up anything exciting. The Widow Douglas stayed nearby to make sure he obeyed. At home, Tom learned what had happened on Cardiff Hill. He also learned that the “ragged man’s” body had finally been found in the river near the ferry landing. Perhaps he had drowned while trying to escape.

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 to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one 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:

About two weeks after Tom’s rescue from the cave, he set off to visit Huck. Huck was now strong enough to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some news he thought would interest him. Judge Thatcher’s house was on Tom’s way, so he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends got Tom talking. Someone teasingly asked him if he’d like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn’t mind. 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 any more.”

“Well, I have no doubt there are others just like you, Tom. But we’ve taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked—and I’ve got the keys.”

“Because two weeks ago I had its big door covered with iron plates. I also had three locks put on the door. 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!”

“What’s wrong, boy? Somebody, hurry! Bring a glass of water!”

The water was brought and thrown into Tom’s face.

The water was brought over and splashed into Tom’s face.

“Ah, now you’re all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?”

“Ah, you’re all right now. What was wrong with you, Tom?”

“Oh, Judge, Injun Joe’s in the cave!”