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- CHAPTER XVI
After dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar.
They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft
place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes
they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly
round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a
famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning.
After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and
chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until
they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal
water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their
legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun.
And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each
other’s faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with
averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and
struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all
went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing,
sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time.
When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry,
hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by
break for the water again and go through the original performance once
more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented
flesh-colored “tights” very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and
had a circus—with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest
post to his neighbor.
Next they got their marbles and played “knucks” and “ringtaw” and
“keeps” till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another
swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off
his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his
ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the
protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he
had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to
rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the “dumps,” and
fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay
drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing “BECKY” in the sand with
his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his
weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He
erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving
the other boys together and joining them.
But Joe’s spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so
homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay
very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted,
but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready
to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he
would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness:
“I bet there’s been pirates on this island before, boys. We’ll explore
it again. They’ve hid treasures here somewhere. How’d you feel to light
on a rotten chest full of gold and silver—hey?”
But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply.
Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was
discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking
very gloomy. Finally he said:
“Oh, boys, let’s give it up. I want to go home. It’s so lonesome.”
“Oh no, Joe, you’ll feel better by and by,” said Tom. “Just think of the
fishing that’s here.”
“I don’t care for fishing. I want to go home.”
“But, Joe, there ain’t such another swimming-place anywhere.”
“Swimming’s no good. I don’t seem to care for it, somehow, when there
ain’t anybody to say I sha’n’t go in. I mean to go home.”
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