- end_line
- 4667
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-28T17:35:34.206Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4606
- text
- and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both
very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had
had any trouble they had got rid of it.
They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look,
and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare
theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well—something they ate
at dinner had disagreed with them.
About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding
oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys
huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of
the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was
stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued.
Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the
blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that
vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by
another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came
sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting
breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit
of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned
night into day and showed every little grassblade, separate and
distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white,
startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling
down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A
sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the
flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the
forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the treetops
right over the boys’ heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick
gloom that followed. A few big raindrops fell pattering upon the leaves.
“Quick! boys, go for the tent!” exclaimed Tom.
They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no
two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through
the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after
another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching
rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the
ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the
booming thunderblasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one
they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared,
and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something
to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so
furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest
rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its
fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each
others’ hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter
of a great oak that stood upon the riverbank. Now the battle was at its
highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed
in the skies, everything below stood out in cleancut and shadowless
distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the
driving spray of spumeflakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on
the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloudrack and the slanting
veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight
and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging
thunderpeals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp,
and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort
that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to
the treetops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one
and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be
out in.
- title
- Chunk 4