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- 2026-01-28T02:35:49.962Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 7583
- text
- noise. Why didn’t you come and wake me?”
“We judged it warn’t worth while. Those fellows warn’t likely to come
again—they hadn’t any tools left to work with, and what was the use of
waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard
at your house all the rest of the night. They’ve just come back.”
More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple
of hours more.
There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody
was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came
that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the
sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher’s wife dropped alongside of Mrs.
Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said:
“Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired
to death.”
“Your Becky?”
“Yes,” with a startled look—“didn’t she stay with you last night?”
“Why, no.”
Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly,
talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said:
“Goodmorning, Mrs. Thatcher. Goodmorning, Mrs. Harper. I’ve got a boy
that’s turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last
night—one of you. And now he’s afraid to come to church. I’ve got to
settle with him.”
Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever.
“He didn’t stay with us,” said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A
marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly’s face.
“Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?”
“No’m.”
“When did you see him last?”
Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had
stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding
uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously
questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed
whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip;
it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One
young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave!
Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her
hands.
The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to
street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and
the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant
insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs
were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half
an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward
the cave.
All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women
visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They
cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the
tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at
last, all the word that came was, “Send more candles—and send food.”
Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher
sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed
no real cheer.
The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with
candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck
still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with
fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came
and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him,
because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord’s,
and nothing that was the Lord’s was a thing to be neglected. The
Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said:
“You can depend on it. That’s the Lord’s mark. He don’t leave it off.
He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his
hands.”
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- Chunk 4