这本小说里的冒险故事确曾发生过。其中，有一两件是我自己的亲身经历，另外一些都 是我少年时的同学们的。汤姆和哈克·费恩这两个人物形象都取材于生活，所不同的是：
汤姆是我认识的三个孩子的化身，是多个人物的混合体。
书中述及的一些迷信，稀奇古怪。三四十年前，在西部的孩子们和奴隶们当中，它们甚 为流行。
我写这本小说主要是为了娱乐孩子们，但我也希望大人们不要因为这是本儿童读的书就 将它束之高阁。
此外，我还试图想让那些成年人从书中想起当年的他们，那时的情感、思想、言谈以及 一些令人不可思议的作法。
是为序。
１８７６年作者于哈特福德
The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago.
Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in.
THE AUTHOR.
HARTFORD, 1876.
汤姆是我认识的三个孩子的化身，是多个人物的混合体。
书中述及的一些迷信，稀奇古怪。三四十年前，在西部的孩子们和奴隶们当中，它们甚 为流行。
我写这本小说主要是为了娱乐孩子们，但我也希望大人们不要因为这是本儿童读的书就 将它束之高阁。
此外，我还试图想让那些成年人从书中想起当年的他们，那时的情感、思想、言谈以及 一些令人不可思议的作法。
是为序。
１８７６年作者于哈特福德
The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago.
Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in.
THE AUTHOR.
HARTFORD, 1876.
“汤姆！”
没人答应。
“汤姆！”
又没人答应。
“这孩子到底怎么啦，我真搞不懂？你这个汤姆！”
还是没有人答应。
这老太太拉低眼镜从镜片上方朝房间看了看，然后她又抬高眼镜从镜片下面看。她很少 或者干脆说她从来没戴正眼镜来找像一个小男孩这样小的东西。这副眼镜是很考究的，也是 她的骄傲，她配这副眼镜不是为了实用，而是为了“装饰”，为了“漂亮”。她看东西时， 即使戴上两片炉子盖也照样看得一清二楚。她茫然不知所措地愣了一会儿。然后虽然不是凶 神恶煞般，但嗓门高得让每个角落都能听到，她说：
“好，我发誓如果我抓住你，我就——”
她话没有说完，因为这时她正弯腰用扫把往床下猛捣，每捣一下，她需要停下来换口 气。结果，只捣出来一只猫。
“我还从没有见过这么令人吃惊的孩子！”
她走到敞开的门口，站在那里朝满园子的西红柿藤和吉普逊草丛中看，想找到汤姆，可 还是没有。于是她亮开嗓子朝远处，高声喊到：
“汤姆呀，汤姆！”
这时在她身后传来一声轻微的响声，她转身一把抓住了一个小男孩的短外套的衣角，他 想跑都跑不掉了。
“嘿！我早该想到那个壁橱，你躲在那里干什么？”
“没干什么。”
“没干什么？！瞧你那双手，再看你那张嘴，还有那浑身是什么？”
“我不知道，姨妈。”
“哎，我知道，那是蜜饯——对，就是。我已跟你讲过有四十遍了，不要动我的蜜饯， 否则我就扒你的皮。把鞭子递给我。”
鞭子在空中晃悠——情况万分紧急。
“不得了！瞧你身后是什么，姨妈！”
老太太以为有危险，急忙撩起裙子，转过身去。汤姆拨腿就逃，顷刻他爬过高高的木栅 栏，一转眼就消失得无影无踪。
他的波莉姨妈站在那儿先是一愣，随后突然轻声笑了起来。
“这个该死的，我怎么老是不吸取教训？和我开这样的玩笑，也不知开过多少次了。难 道我不该有所提防吗？人老了，糊涂才是最大的糊涂蛋。俗话说得好，老狗学不会新把戏。 可是天啦！他耍的鬼把戏里从来没有两天一样的，谁能猜出下个鬼主意是什么？他似乎知 道，他能折磨我多长时间，我才会动肝火，而且他也知道他只要想个法哄哄我，惹我大笑一 场，就会万事皆休，我也不会揍他一顿。我对他是敢怒不能揍。我对那孩子没尽到责任，上 帝知道那是真的。《圣经》里说：‘孩子不打不成器。’我太溺爱那孩子，我也知道这对我 俩都不好。他一肚鬼点子。哎呀，但他是我那死去的亲姐姐的儿子，可怜的孩子，我怎么也 不忍心揍他。每一次饶了他，我良心都受谴责；可是每一回打他，我都有点心痛不忍。哎， 哎，就像《圣经》所说的，人为母生，光阴荏苒，充满苦难。我看这话说得一点都不错。今 天下午他要是逃学，明天我就想法让他干点活，惩罚惩罚他。星期六让他干活，恐怕苛刻了 点，因为所有的孩子都放了假，他又恨透了干活，比恨什么都厉害。可是我不得不对他尽到 我的责任，否则我会把这个孩子给毁了。”
汤姆真的没去上课，而且痛痛快快地玩了一场。他回家时正好赶上帮那小黑孩吉姆的 忙，帮他在晚饭前锯第二天用的木头，劈引火用的柴——至少他及时赶到那儿，把他所干的 事讲给吉姆听，而活却是吉姆干了四分之三。汤姆的弟弟（确切地说是同母异父的弟弟）希 德已干完了他那份活（捡碎木块），因为他是个不声不响的孩子，从不干什么冒险的事，也 不惹什么麻烦。
汤姆吃晚饭的时候，总是瞅机会偷糖吃，波莉姨妈这时开始问他，话里充满了诡计，而 且非常巧妙——因为她要设点圈套，套他说出实话来。跟其他许多头脑简单的人一样，她很 自负，并且相信自己很有点子，会耍弄诡秘狡猾的手腕，把自己极易被人识破的诡计当作最 高明的计策，她说：
“汤姆，学校里挺热的，对吧？”
“是的，姨妈。”
“热的厉害，对不对？”
“对，姨妈。”
“你是不是想去游泳来着，汤姆。”
汤姆忽然感到有点慌张——一丝不安和疑惑掠过心头。他偷眼察看波莉姨妈的脸色，可 什么也没有看出来。于是他说：
“没有啊，姨妈——呃，没怎么想去。”
老太太伸出手摸摸汤姆的衬衣，说道：
“可是你现在却并不怎么热，是吧！”她已发现衬衣是干的，却没有人知道她内心的真 正用意，为此她感到很得意。而汤姆猜透了她的心思，所以他为防老太太的下一招来了个先 发制人。
“有的人往大家头上打水——你瞧，我的头发还是湿的呢！”
波莉姨妈很懊恼，她居然没注意到这个明摆着的事实，以致错过了一次机会。可接着她 灵机一动，计上心来：
“汤姆，你往头上浇水的时候，不必拆掉我给你衬衫上缝的领子吧？把上衣的纽扣解 开！”
汤姆脸上的不安马上就消失了。他解开上衣，衬衣的领子还是缝的好好的。
“真是怪事。得，算了吧！我看你旷课去游泳了！我认为你就像俗话里说的烧焦毛的猫 一样——并不像表面看起来的那样坏。就这一次，下不为例。”
她一面为自己的计谋落空而难过，一面又为汤姆这一次竟能如此温顺听话而高兴。
可是希德却说：
“哼，我记得你好像给他缝领子用的是白线，可现在却是黑线。”
“嘿，我的确用白线缝的！汤姆！”
可汤姆没等听完话就走了。他走出门口的时候说：
“希德，为这我可要狠狠揍你一顿。”
在一个安全的地方，汤姆仔细检查了别在上衣翻领上的两根大针，针上还穿着线，一根 绕着白线，另一根绕着黑线。
他说：
“如果不是希德，她是永远不会注意到的。真讨厌！有时她用白线缝，有时又用黑线。 我真希望她总是用一种线——换来换去我实在记不住。不过，我发誓非揍希德一顿不可，我 要好好教训教训他。”
汤姆不是村里的模范男孩，但他对那位模范男孩非常熟悉，并且很讨厌他。
不到两分钟，甚至更短，他已将全部烦恼给忘记了。就像大人们的烦恼也是烦恼一样， 他忘记烦恼并不是因为他的烦恼对他不怎么沉重和难受，而是因为一种新的、更强烈的兴趣 暂时压倒并驱散了他心中的烦闷——就像大人们在新奇感受的兴奋之时，也会暂时忘却自己 的不幸一样。这种新产生的兴趣就是一种新的吹口哨方法，它很有价值，是刚从一个黑人那 学到的，现在他正要一心练习练习又不想被别人打扰。这声音很特别，像小鸟的叫声，一种 流畅而委婉的音调。在吹这个调子的时候，舌头断断续续地抵住口腔的上腭——读者若曾经 也是孩子的话，也许还记得该怎样吹这种口哨。汤姆学得很勤奋，练得很专心，很快就掌握 了其中要领。于是他沿街大步流星地走着，口中吹着口哨，心里乐滋滋的，那股乐劲如同天 文学家发现了新行星时一般，仅就乐的程度之深之强烈而言，此时的汤姆绝对比天文学家还 要兴奋。
夏天的下午很长，这时天还没有黑。汤姆的口哨声忽然停住了，因为在他面前出现了一 个陌生人——一个比他大一点的男孩。
在圣彼德堡这个贫穷、破落的小村子里，不管是男的还是女的，老的还是少的，只要是 新来的，就能引起人们的好奇心。而且这个男孩穿得非常讲究——在平常工作日竟穿戴如此 整齐，仅这就让汤姆对他刮目相看。他的帽子很精致，蓝色的上衣扣得紧紧的，又新又整 洁，他的裤子也是一样。他竟然还穿着鞋——要知道，今天可是星期五！他甚至还打了条领 带，那是条颜色鲜亮的丝质领带。他摆出一副城里人的架势，汤姆对此感到很不自在。汤姆 眼盯着他那套漂亮的衣服，鼻子翘得高高的。可是他越看越是觉得自己身上的衣服很寒酸破 旧。两个人都一声不吭。一个挪动一步，另一个也挪一步——可都是斜着步子兜圈子。他俩 面对面，眼对眼这样相持了很长时间，最后还是汤姆先开了腔：
“我能打得过你！”
“我倒想见识见识。”
“那好，我就打给你看。”
“得了，你不行。”
“我行。”
“你就是不行。”
“我就是行。”
“不行！”
“行！”
“不行！”
两个人都不自在地停了下来。接着汤姆问道：
“你叫什么名字？”
“这也许你管不着！”
“哼，我就管得着！”
“好，那你就管管看。”
“要是你再啰嗦，我就管给你看。”
“啰嗦——啰嗦——偏要啰嗦，看你能怎么样？”
“哎，你认为你自己很了不起，是不是？如果我想你的话，一只手背在后面都能打 过你。”
“好啊，你说你能打过我，那你为什么不动手啊？”
“如果你老是嘴硬的话，我就打给你看。”
“嘿——你这种人我见得多了，尽吹大话下不了台！”
“哈！你自以为是个人物呢！瞧，你那帽子！”
“你要是看不顺眼你就把它摘下来呀，如果你敢碰，我就揍扁你！”
“你吹牛。”
“你也是吹牛。”
“你光是讲大话，不敢动手。”
“噢，滚你的蛋吧！”
“告诉你——要是你再骂我的话，我就用石头砸碎你的脑袋。”
“那好，你就来砸啊！”
“我肯定会的。”
“那你为什么不来试试？你老是吹牛不敢动手，哦，我知道你害怕了。”
“我才不怕呢！”
“你怕！”
“我不怕！”
“你就是怕！”
两个人暂停了一会儿，接着又眼对眼，身子侧身子兜着圈子走了几步。忽然两个人肩抵 着肩。汤姆说：
“你从这滚吧！”
“你自己滚吧！”
“我不滚。”
“我也不滚。”
于是他俩站在那儿，双方都斜着一只脚撑着劲，用尽力气想把对手往后推，两个人都愤 恨地瞪着对方。可是谁都没占优势。他们直斗得浑身燥热，满脸通红，然后两人稍稍放松， 却都小心谨慎地提防着对方。这时，汤姆又说：“你是个胆小鬼，是个狗崽子。我要向我大 哥哥告你的状，他只要动动小指头就能把你捏碎，我会让他揍你的。”
“我可不怕你什么大哥哥，我有一个比你大哥还大的大哥哥——而且我大哥哥能把你的 大哥哥从那堵篱笆围墙扔过去。”
（两个人的所谓的大哥哥都是虚构的。）
“你撒谎。”
“你讲的也不是真的。”
汤姆用大脚趾头在地上的灰土上划了一道线，说：
“你若敢跨过这道线，我就把你打趴在地上，让你站不起来。谁敢，谁就得吃不了兜着 走。”
这个新来的男孩毫不犹豫地跨过那道线，说：
“你说你敢打我，现在来看看你怎么打法。”
“你不要逼我！你最好还是当心点。”
“哎，你不是说要打我吗？——你为什么不动手啊？”
“得了，你要是肯给我两个分币，我就动手。”
新来的男孩果真从衣服口袋里掏出两个分币，嘲弄地摊开手掌。汤姆一把将钱打翻在 地。立刻两个人像两只争食的猫一样，在地上的尘土里滚打，撕扯起来，紧接着又是扯头 发，又是揪衣领，拼命地捶打对方的鼻子，抓对方的脸。两个人都弄得浑身是土，却又都威 风凛凛。最后谁胜谁败逐渐见了分晓，汤姆从尘土中爬起来，骑在那个男孩的身上，攥紧拳 头使劲地打那个男孩。
“挨够了吗？求饶吧！”他说。
那个男孩只想挣脱出来。他气得嚎啕大哭。
汤姆还在不停地捶打，说：“求饶吧！”
那男孩只好挤出几个字：“饶了我！”
汤姆让他站起来，对他说：
“现在你知道我的厉害了吧！以后最好给我小心点，看看在跟谁嘴硬。”
这位新来的男孩拍拍身上的尘土，哭哭啼啼地走开了。他不时地回过头来，摇晃着脑 袋，吓唬汤姆：
“下次要是抓住你，我就，我就……”
汤姆对此不屑一顾，趾高气扬地走开了。他的背刚一转过来，那男孩子就抓起一块石头 朝他砸过来，正打在汤姆的背上，接着就夹着尾巴，像羚羊似的飞快地跑掉了。汤姆穷追不 舍，直追到他家。他就站在人家大门口，嚷着叫那男孩出来较量，可是那个对手只是在窗子 里朝他挤鼻子弄眼，拒不迎战。最后那对手的妈妈出来了，咒骂汤姆是个下流、没有家 教的坏孩子，喝斥他赶快滚开。于是汤姆就走了，不过，他临走时说还要寻机再教训教训那 混小子一顿。
那天晚上，他回到家时已经很迟了。当他小心翼翼地从窗户往里爬时，猛然间发现了有 人埋伏，仔细一看，原来是他的波莉姨妈。她看到他衣服被弄成那副样子，原来就打算让汤 姆在星期六休息日干活的决心现在就更加坚定了。
No answer.
"TOM!"
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--"
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
"I never did see the beat of that boy!"
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted:
"Y-o-u-u TOM!"
There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.
"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?"
"I don't know, aunt."
"Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch."
The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate--
"My! Look behind you, aunt!"
The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh.
"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and (* Southwestern for "afternoon") I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child."
Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways.
While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she:
"Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Powerful warm, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?"
A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said:
"No'm--well, not very much."
The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said:
"But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move:
"Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?"
Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration:
"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!"
The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed.
"Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time."
She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.
But Sidney said:
"Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black."
"Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!"
But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:
"Siddy, I'll lick you for that."
In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said:
"She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!"
He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him.
Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer.
The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:
"I can lick you!"
"I'd like to see you try it."
"Well, I can do it."
"No you can't, either."
"Yes I can."
"No you can't."
"I can."
"You can't."
"Can!"
"Can't!"
An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
"What's your name?"
"'Tisn't any of your business, maybe."
"Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business."
"Well why don't you?"
"If you say much, I will."
"Much--much--MUCH. There now."
"Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to."
"Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it."
"Well I WILL, if you fool with me."
"Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix."
"Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!"
"You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs."
"You're a liar!"
"You're another."
"You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up."
"Aw--take a walk!"
"Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head."
"Oh, of COURSE you will."
"Well I WILL."
"Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid."
"I AIN'T afraid."
"You are."
"I ain't."
"You are."
Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
"Get away from here!"
"Go away yourself!"
"I won't."
"I won't either."
So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:
"You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too."
"What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." (Both brothers were imaginary.)
"That's a lie."
"YOUR saying so don't make it so."
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
"I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep."
The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
"Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it."
"Don't you crowd me now; you better look out."
"Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?"
"By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it."
The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he.
The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage.
"Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on.
At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said:
"Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time."
The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy.
He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness.
没人答应。
“汤姆！”
又没人答应。
“这孩子到底怎么啦，我真搞不懂？你这个汤姆！”
还是没有人答应。
这老太太拉低眼镜从镜片上方朝房间看了看，然后她又抬高眼镜从镜片下面看。她很少 或者干脆说她从来没戴正眼镜来找像一个小男孩这样小的东西。这副眼镜是很考究的，也是 她的骄傲，她配这副眼镜不是为了实用，而是为了“装饰”，为了“漂亮”。她看东西时， 即使戴上两片炉子盖也照样看得一清二楚。她茫然不知所措地愣了一会儿。然后虽然不是凶 神恶煞般，但嗓门高得让每个角落都能听到，她说：
“好，我发誓如果我抓住你，我就——”
她话没有说完，因为这时她正弯腰用扫把往床下猛捣，每捣一下，她需要停下来换口 气。结果，只捣出来一只猫。
“我还从没有见过这么令人吃惊的孩子！”
她走到敞开的门口，站在那里朝满园子的西红柿藤和吉普逊草丛中看，想找到汤姆，可 还是没有。于是她亮开嗓子朝远处，高声喊到：
“汤姆呀，汤姆！”
这时在她身后传来一声轻微的响声，她转身一把抓住了一个小男孩的短外套的衣角，他 想跑都跑不掉了。
“嘿！我早该想到那个壁橱，你躲在那里干什么？”
“没干什么。”
“没干什么？！瞧你那双手，再看你那张嘴，还有那浑身是什么？”
“我不知道，姨妈。”
“哎，我知道，那是蜜饯——对，就是。我已跟你讲过有四十遍了，不要动我的蜜饯， 否则我就扒你的皮。把鞭子递给我。”
鞭子在空中晃悠——情况万分紧急。
“不得了！瞧你身后是什么，姨妈！”
老太太以为有危险，急忙撩起裙子，转过身去。汤姆拨腿就逃，顷刻他爬过高高的木栅 栏，一转眼就消失得无影无踪。
他的波莉姨妈站在那儿先是一愣，随后突然轻声笑了起来。
“这个该死的，我怎么老是不吸取教训？和我开这样的玩笑，也不知开过多少次了。难 道我不该有所提防吗？人老了，糊涂才是最大的糊涂蛋。俗话说得好，老狗学不会新把戏。 可是天啦！他耍的鬼把戏里从来没有两天一样的，谁能猜出下个鬼主意是什么？他似乎知 道，他能折磨我多长时间，我才会动肝火，而且他也知道他只要想个法哄哄我，惹我大笑一 场，就会万事皆休，我也不会揍他一顿。我对他是敢怒不能揍。我对那孩子没尽到责任，上 帝知道那是真的。《圣经》里说：‘孩子不打不成器。’我太溺爱那孩子，我也知道这对我 俩都不好。他一肚鬼点子。哎呀，但他是我那死去的亲姐姐的儿子，可怜的孩子，我怎么也 不忍心揍他。每一次饶了他，我良心都受谴责；可是每一回打他，我都有点心痛不忍。哎， 哎，就像《圣经》所说的，人为母生，光阴荏苒，充满苦难。我看这话说得一点都不错。今 天下午他要是逃学，明天我就想法让他干点活，惩罚惩罚他。星期六让他干活，恐怕苛刻了 点，因为所有的孩子都放了假，他又恨透了干活，比恨什么都厉害。可是我不得不对他尽到 我的责任，否则我会把这个孩子给毁了。”
汤姆真的没去上课，而且痛痛快快地玩了一场。他回家时正好赶上帮那小黑孩吉姆的 忙，帮他在晚饭前锯第二天用的木头，劈引火用的柴——至少他及时赶到那儿，把他所干的 事讲给吉姆听，而活却是吉姆干了四分之三。汤姆的弟弟（确切地说是同母异父的弟弟）希 德已干完了他那份活（捡碎木块），因为他是个不声不响的孩子，从不干什么冒险的事，也 不惹什么麻烦。
汤姆吃晚饭的时候，总是瞅机会偷糖吃，波莉姨妈这时开始问他，话里充满了诡计，而 且非常巧妙——因为她要设点圈套，套他说出实话来。跟其他许多头脑简单的人一样，她很 自负，并且相信自己很有点子，会耍弄诡秘狡猾的手腕，把自己极易被人识破的诡计当作最 高明的计策，她说：
“汤姆，学校里挺热的，对吧？”
“是的，姨妈。”
“热的厉害，对不对？”
“对，姨妈。”
“你是不是想去游泳来着，汤姆。”
汤姆忽然感到有点慌张——一丝不安和疑惑掠过心头。他偷眼察看波莉姨妈的脸色，可 什么也没有看出来。于是他说：
“没有啊，姨妈——呃，没怎么想去。”
老太太伸出手摸摸汤姆的衬衣，说道：
“可是你现在却并不怎么热，是吧！”她已发现衬衣是干的，却没有人知道她内心的真 正用意，为此她感到很得意。而汤姆猜透了她的心思，所以他为防老太太的下一招来了个先 发制人。
“有的人往大家头上打水——你瞧，我的头发还是湿的呢！”
波莉姨妈很懊恼，她居然没注意到这个明摆着的事实，以致错过了一次机会。可接着她 灵机一动，计上心来：
“汤姆，你往头上浇水的时候，不必拆掉我给你衬衫上缝的领子吧？把上衣的纽扣解 开！”
汤姆脸上的不安马上就消失了。他解开上衣，衬衣的领子还是缝的好好的。
“真是怪事。得，算了吧！我看你旷课去游泳了！我认为你就像俗话里说的烧焦毛的猫 一样——并不像表面看起来的那样坏。就这一次，下不为例。”
她一面为自己的计谋落空而难过，一面又为汤姆这一次竟能如此温顺听话而高兴。
可是希德却说：
“哼，我记得你好像给他缝领子用的是白线，可现在却是黑线。”
“嘿，我的确用白线缝的！汤姆！”
可汤姆没等听完话就走了。他走出门口的时候说：
“希德，为这我可要狠狠揍你一顿。”
在一个安全的地方，汤姆仔细检查了别在上衣翻领上的两根大针，针上还穿着线，一根 绕着白线，另一根绕着黑线。
他说：
“如果不是希德，她是永远不会注意到的。真讨厌！有时她用白线缝，有时又用黑线。 我真希望她总是用一种线——换来换去我实在记不住。不过，我发誓非揍希德一顿不可，我 要好好教训教训他。”
汤姆不是村里的模范男孩，但他对那位模范男孩非常熟悉，并且很讨厌他。
不到两分钟，甚至更短，他已将全部烦恼给忘记了。就像大人们的烦恼也是烦恼一样， 他忘记烦恼并不是因为他的烦恼对他不怎么沉重和难受，而是因为一种新的、更强烈的兴趣 暂时压倒并驱散了他心中的烦闷——就像大人们在新奇感受的兴奋之时，也会暂时忘却自己 的不幸一样。这种新产生的兴趣就是一种新的吹口哨方法，它很有价值，是刚从一个黑人那 学到的，现在他正要一心练习练习又不想被别人打扰。这声音很特别，像小鸟的叫声，一种 流畅而委婉的音调。在吹这个调子的时候，舌头断断续续地抵住口腔的上腭——读者若曾经 也是孩子的话，也许还记得该怎样吹这种口哨。汤姆学得很勤奋，练得很专心，很快就掌握 了其中要领。于是他沿街大步流星地走着，口中吹着口哨，心里乐滋滋的，那股乐劲如同天 文学家发现了新行星时一般，仅就乐的程度之深之强烈而言，此时的汤姆绝对比天文学家还 要兴奋。
夏天的下午很长，这时天还没有黑。汤姆的口哨声忽然停住了，因为在他面前出现了一 个陌生人——一个比他大一点的男孩。
在圣彼德堡这个贫穷、破落的小村子里，不管是男的还是女的，老的还是少的，只要是 新来的，就能引起人们的好奇心。而且这个男孩穿得非常讲究——在平常工作日竟穿戴如此 整齐，仅这就让汤姆对他刮目相看。他的帽子很精致，蓝色的上衣扣得紧紧的，又新又整 洁，他的裤子也是一样。他竟然还穿着鞋——要知道，今天可是星期五！他甚至还打了条领 带，那是条颜色鲜亮的丝质领带。他摆出一副城里人的架势，汤姆对此感到很不自在。汤姆 眼盯着他那套漂亮的衣服，鼻子翘得高高的。可是他越看越是觉得自己身上的衣服很寒酸破 旧。两个人都一声不吭。一个挪动一步，另一个也挪一步——可都是斜着步子兜圈子。他俩 面对面，眼对眼这样相持了很长时间，最后还是汤姆先开了腔：
“我能打得过你！”
“我倒想见识见识。”
“那好，我就打给你看。”
“得了，你不行。”
“我行。”
“你就是不行。”
“我就是行。”
“不行！”
“行！”
“不行！”
两个人都不自在地停了下来。接着汤姆问道：
“你叫什么名字？”
“这也许你管不着！”
“哼，我就管得着！”
“好，那你就管管看。”
“要是你再啰嗦，我就管给你看。”
“啰嗦——啰嗦——偏要啰嗦，看你能怎么样？”
“哎，你认为你自己很了不起，是不是？如果我想你的话，一只手背在后面都能打 过你。”
“好啊，你说你能打过我，那你为什么不动手啊？”
“如果你老是嘴硬的话，我就打给你看。”
“嘿——你这种人我见得多了，尽吹大话下不了台！”
“哈！你自以为是个人物呢！瞧，你那帽子！”
“你要是看不顺眼你就把它摘下来呀，如果你敢碰，我就揍扁你！”
“你吹牛。”
“你也是吹牛。”
“你光是讲大话，不敢动手。”
“噢，滚你的蛋吧！”
“告诉你——要是你再骂我的话，我就用石头砸碎你的脑袋。”
“那好，你就来砸啊！”
“我肯定会的。”
“那你为什么不来试试？你老是吹牛不敢动手，哦，我知道你害怕了。”
“我才不怕呢！”
“你怕！”
“我不怕！”
“你就是怕！”
两个人暂停了一会儿，接着又眼对眼，身子侧身子兜着圈子走了几步。忽然两个人肩抵 着肩。汤姆说：
“你从这滚吧！”
“你自己滚吧！”
“我不滚。”
“我也不滚。”
于是他俩站在那儿，双方都斜着一只脚撑着劲，用尽力气想把对手往后推，两个人都愤 恨地瞪着对方。可是谁都没占优势。他们直斗得浑身燥热，满脸通红，然后两人稍稍放松， 却都小心谨慎地提防着对方。这时，汤姆又说：“你是个胆小鬼，是个狗崽子。我要向我大 哥哥告你的状，他只要动动小指头就能把你捏碎，我会让他揍你的。”
“我可不怕你什么大哥哥，我有一个比你大哥还大的大哥哥——而且我大哥哥能把你的 大哥哥从那堵篱笆围墙扔过去。”
（两个人的所谓的大哥哥都是虚构的。）
“你撒谎。”
“你讲的也不是真的。”
汤姆用大脚趾头在地上的灰土上划了一道线，说：
“你若敢跨过这道线，我就把你打趴在地上，让你站不起来。谁敢，谁就得吃不了兜着 走。”
这个新来的男孩毫不犹豫地跨过那道线，说：
“你说你敢打我，现在来看看你怎么打法。”
“你不要逼我！你最好还是当心点。”
“哎，你不是说要打我吗？——你为什么不动手啊？”
“得了，你要是肯给我两个分币，我就动手。”
新来的男孩果真从衣服口袋里掏出两个分币，嘲弄地摊开手掌。汤姆一把将钱打翻在 地。立刻两个人像两只争食的猫一样，在地上的尘土里滚打，撕扯起来，紧接着又是扯头 发，又是揪衣领，拼命地捶打对方的鼻子，抓对方的脸。两个人都弄得浑身是土，却又都威 风凛凛。最后谁胜谁败逐渐见了分晓，汤姆从尘土中爬起来，骑在那个男孩的身上，攥紧拳 头使劲地打那个男孩。
“挨够了吗？求饶吧！”他说。
那个男孩只想挣脱出来。他气得嚎啕大哭。
汤姆还在不停地捶打，说：“求饶吧！”
那男孩只好挤出几个字：“饶了我！”
汤姆让他站起来，对他说：
“现在你知道我的厉害了吧！以后最好给我小心点，看看在跟谁嘴硬。”
这位新来的男孩拍拍身上的尘土，哭哭啼啼地走开了。他不时地回过头来，摇晃着脑 袋，吓唬汤姆：
“下次要是抓住你，我就，我就……”
汤姆对此不屑一顾，趾高气扬地走开了。他的背刚一转过来，那男孩子就抓起一块石头 朝他砸过来，正打在汤姆的背上，接着就夹着尾巴，像羚羊似的飞快地跑掉了。汤姆穷追不 舍，直追到他家。他就站在人家大门口，嚷着叫那男孩出来较量，可是那个对手只是在窗子 里朝他挤鼻子弄眼，拒不迎战。最后那对手的妈妈出来了，咒骂汤姆是个下流、没有家 教的坏孩子，喝斥他赶快滚开。于是汤姆就走了，不过，他临走时说还要寻机再教训教训那 混小子一顿。
那天晚上，他回到家时已经很迟了。当他小心翼翼地从窗户往里爬时，猛然间发现了有 人埋伏，仔细一看，原来是他的波莉姨妈。她看到他衣服被弄成那副样子，原来就打算让汤 姆在星期六休息日干活的决心现在就更加坚定了。
No answer.
"TOM!"
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--"
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
"I never did see the beat of that boy!"
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted:
"Y-o-u-u TOM!"
There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.
"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?"
"I don't know, aunt."
"Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch."
The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate--
"My! Look behind you, aunt!"
The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh.
"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and (* Southwestern for "afternoon") I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child."
Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways.
While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she:
"Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Powerful warm, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?"
A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said:
"No'm--well, not very much."
The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said:
"But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move:
"Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?"
Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration:
"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!"
The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed.
"Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time."
She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.
But Sidney said:
"Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black."
"Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!"
But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:
"Siddy, I'll lick you for that."
In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said:
"She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!"
He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him.
Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer.
The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:
"I can lick you!"
"I'd like to see you try it."
"Well, I can do it."
"No you can't, either."
"Yes I can."
"No you can't."
"I can."
"You can't."
"Can!"
"Can't!"
An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
"What's your name?"
"'Tisn't any of your business, maybe."
"Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business."
"Well why don't you?"
"If you say much, I will."
"Much--much--MUCH. There now."
"Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to."
"Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it."
"Well I WILL, if you fool with me."
"Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix."
"Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!"
"You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs."
"You're a liar!"
"You're another."
"You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up."
"Aw--take a walk!"
"Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head."
"Oh, of COURSE you will."
"Well I WILL."
"Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid."
"I AIN'T afraid."
"You are."
"I ain't."
"You are."
Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
"Get away from here!"
"Go away yourself!"
"I won't."
"I won't either."
So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:
"You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too."
"What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." (Both brothers were imaginary.)
"That's a lie."
"YOUR saying so don't make it so."
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
"I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep."
The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
"Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it."
"Don't you crowd me now; you better look out."
"Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?"
"By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it."
The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he.
The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage.
"Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on.
At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said:
"Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time."
The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy.
He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness.