For You to Read
属于您的小说阅读网站
汤姆·索亚历险记 - Chapter 11
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  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 two o'clock 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. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them."poor fellow!" "poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff potter'll 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 stolid face of Injun 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 twenty voices."Muff potter!""Hallo, he's 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; "'pon my word and honor I never done it.""Who's accused you?" shouted a voice.This shot seemed to carry home. potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed:"Oh, Injun 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 't if I didn't come back and get --" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em -- it ain't any use any more."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 miscreant 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? What 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.Injun 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 nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master.Injun 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 that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked:"It was within three feet 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. Nothing 't 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 is 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:"Sho! 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 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 afterward 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 never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all 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 marvelled, 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 grated 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 Injun 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.
或许您还会喜欢:
怪指纹
作者:佚名
章节:30 人气:2
摘要:法医学界的一大权威宗像隆一郎博士自从在丸内大厦设立宗像研究所,开始研究犯罪案件和开办侦探事业以来,已经有好几年了。该研究所不同于普通的民间侦探,若不是连警察当局都感到棘手的疑难案件它是决不想染指的,只有所谓“无头案”才是该研究室最欢迎的研究课题。 [点击阅读]
情人 杜拉斯
作者:佚名
章节:17 人气:2
摘要:一个与昆德拉、村上春树和张爱玲并列的小资读者、时尚标志的女作家,一个富有传奇人生经历、惊世骇俗叛逆性格、五色斑斓爱情的艺术家,一个堪称当代法国文化骄傲的作家,一个引导世界文学时尚的作家……《情人》系杜拉斯代表作之一,自传性质的小说,获一九八四年法国龚古尔文学奖。全书以法国殖民者在越南的生活为背景,描写贫穷的法国女孩与富有的中国少爷之间深沉而无望的爱情。 [点击阅读]
星球大战5:帝国反击战
作者:佚名
章节:14 人气:2
摘要:反军军官举起他的电子双筒望远镜,把焦距调准对着那些在雪中坚定地前进着的东西,看上去象一些来自过去的生物……但它们是战争机器,每一个都大踏步地走着,象四条腿的巨大的有蹄动物——帝国全地形装甲运输器!军官急忙抓起他的互通讯器。“流氓领机——回话!点零三!”“回波站五——七,我们正在路上。”就在卢克天行者回答时,一个爆炸把雪和冰溅散在军官和他惊恐的手下周围。 [点击阅读]
星球大战前传3:西斯的复仇
作者:佚名
章节:22 人气:2
摘要:很久以前,在一个遥远的星系这个故事发生在很久以前的一个遥远星系。故事已经结束了,任何事都不能改变它。这是一个关于爱情与失去、友情与背叛、勇气与牺牲以及梦想破灭的故事,这是一个关于至善与至恶之间模糊界限的故事。这是一个关于一个时代终结的故事。关于这个故事,有一件很奇怪的事——它既发生在语言难以描述其长久与遥远的时间之前与距离之外,又发生在此刻,发生在这里。它就发生在你阅读这些文字的时候。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城5:午夜阳光
作者:佚名
章节:12 人气:2
摘要:每天的这个时候,我总是祈祷自己可以入睡。高中——或者称为炼狱更为恰当!如果有什么方式能够弥补我的罪过,那恐怕就是我读高中的记录了。这种厌烦感不是我曾经体会过的,每一天看上去都要比前一天更加极度无聊。也许这就是我睡眠的方式——如果说,睡眠的含义就是在变幻的时期内处于呆滞状态的话。我凝视着食堂角落水泥墙上的裂纹,想象着它们所呈现的花纹其实并不存在。 [点击阅读]
波洛圣诞探案记
作者:佚名
章节:10 人气:2
摘要:我亲爱的詹姆斯:你一直是我最忠实最宽容的读者之一,正因为这样,当我受到你一点儿批评,我就为此感到极大的不安。你抱怨说我的谋杀事件变得太文雅了,事实上是太贫血了。称渴望一件“血淋淋的暴力谋杀”,一件不容质疑的谋杀案:这就是特别为你而作的故事。我希望它能让你满意。 [点击阅读]
海顿斯坦诗选
作者:佚名
章节:20 人气:2
摘要:海神庙完成了,耸立在玫瑰如绣的花园里,旁边站着建造者,臂膀上,靠着他年轻的妻.她用孩童般的愉悦之声说:“我的杯中溢满了快乐,把我带到纳克萨斯①海滨的人,如今在这里建造了一座光辉的神庙,这是他不朽的故土。”她的丈夫严肃地说:“人死后,他的名字会消失,而神庙,却永远如此屹立。一个有作为的艺术家,在看到自己的精神为人传颂时,他就永远活着,行动着。 [点击阅读]
环游黑海历险记
作者:佚名
章节:33 人气:2
摘要:范-密泰恩和他的仆人布吕诺在散步、观望和聊天,对正在发生的事情一无所知。君士坦丁堡的托普哈内广场一向因人群的来往和喧哗而热闹啡凡,但在8月16日那一天的晚上6点钟,却静悄悄地毫无生气,几乎是一片荒凉。从通向博斯普鲁斯海峡的港口高处看下去,仍能发现它迷人的景色,但里面却没有什么人。勉强有一些外国人匆匆而过,走上狭窄、肮脏、泥泞、有黄狗挡道的通向佩拉郊区的小街。 [点击阅读]
看不见的城市
作者:佚名
章节:18 人气:2
摘要:第一章马可·波罗描述他旅途上经过的城市的时候,忽必烈汗不一定完全相信他的每一句话,但是鞑靼皇帝听取这个威尼斯青年的报告,的确比听别些使者或考察员的报告更专心而且更有兴趣。在帝王的生活中,征服别人的土地而使版图不断扩大,除了带来骄傲之外,跟着又会感觉寂寞而又松弛,因为觉悟到不久便会放弃认识和了解新领土的念头。 [点击阅读]
纯真年代
作者:佚名
章节:36 人气:2
摘要:作者:蒲隆美国文学批评家菲利普·拉赫夫把美国文学中典雅和粗犷这两种不同的流派形象地称为“苍白脸和红皮肤”。这两种流派不仅写作风格相异,而且题材也不同:“苍白脸”多写上流社会,“红皮肤”则多写下层民众。当然两派作家的家庭出身和社会经历也大相径庭。 [点击阅读]