51(y)(7)
用你喜欢的方式阅读你喜欢的小说
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:
我是猫
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:0
摘要:夏目漱石,日本近代作家,生于江户的牛迂马场下横町(今东京都新宿区喜久井町)一个小吏家庭,是家中末子。夏目漱石在日本近代文学史上享有很高的地位,被称为“国民大作家”。代表作有《过了春分时节》《行人》《心》三部曲。 [点击阅读]
我的名字叫红
作者:佚名
章节:58 人气:0
摘要:如今我已是一个死人,成了一具躺在井底的死尸。尽管我已经死了很久,心脏也早已停止了跳动,但除了那个卑鄙的凶手之外没人知道我发生了什么事。而他,那个混蛋,则听了听我是否还有呼吸,摸了摸我的脉搏以确信他是否已把我干掉,之后又朝我的肚子踹了一脚,把我扛到井边,搬起我的身子扔了下去。往下落时,我先前被他用石头砸烂了的脑袋摔裂开来;我的脸、我的额头和脸颊全都挤烂没了;我全身的骨头都散架了,满嘴都是鲜血。 [点击阅读]
我的爸爸是吸血鬼
作者:佚名
章节:81 人气:0
摘要:序幕那是萨瓦纳的一个凉爽春夜,我的母亲走在石子路上,木屐像马蹄似的敲得鹅卵石哒哒响。她穿过一片盛开的杜鹃,再穿过铁兰掩映下的小橡树丛,来到一片绿色空地,边上有一个咖啡馆。我父亲在铁桌旁的一张凳子上坐着,桌上摊了两个棋盘,父亲出了一个车,仰头瞥见了我母亲,手不小心碰到了一个兵,棋子倒在桌面,滑下来,滚到一旁的走道上去了。母亲弯下身子,捡起棋子交还给他。 [点击阅读]
战争与和平
作者:佚名
章节:361 人气:0
摘要:“啊,公爵,热那亚和卢加现在是波拿巴家族的领地,不过,我得事先对您说,如果您不对我说我们这里处于战争状态,如果您还敢袒护这个基督的敌人(我确乎相信,他是一个基督的敌人)的种种卑劣行径和他一手造成的灾祸,那么我就不再管您了。您就不再是我的朋友,您就不再是,如您所说的,我的忠实的奴隶。啊,您好,您好。我看我正在吓唬您了,请坐,讲给我听。 [点击阅读]
户隐传说杀人事件
作者:佚名
章节:10 人气:0
摘要:没有想到拉动门栓时竟然发出惊人的响声,令男子吓了一大跳,好在风声掩去了这一声响,没有惊动房间里的人。从太阳落山的时候起就起风了。风儿摇动着树林里粗壮的树枝。整座山峦开始呼啸,呼啸声掠过屋子的屋顶。已经到了11月的月底,天空却刮起了在这季节里不可能出现的南风。据村子里的老人说,现在这个时候刮这样的风,不是一个好兆头。但愿这不是出事的征兆。对男子来说,就是靠着这风声,才使他在拉动门栓时没有被人发现。 [点击阅读]
手机
作者:佚名
章节:35 人气:0
摘要:“脉冲”事件发生于十月一日下午东部标准时间三点零三分。这个名称显然不当,但在事情发生后的十小时内,大多数能够指出这个错误的科学家们要么死亡要么疯癫。无论如何,名称其实并不重要,重要的是影响。那天下午三点,一位籍籍无名的年轻人正意气风发地在波士顿的波伊斯顿大街上往东走。他名叫克雷顿·里德尔,脸上一副心满意足的样子,步伐也特别矫健。他左手提着一个艺术家的画夹,关上再拉上拉链就成了一个旅行箱。 [点击阅读]
拇指一竖
作者:佚名
章节:17 人气:0
摘要:贝瑞福夫妇对坐在早餐桌前,他们和普通的夫妇没什么不同,这时候,全英格兰至少有好几百对像他们这样上了年纪的夫妻正在吃早餐,这一天,也是个很普通的日子——一星期七天之中,至少有五个这样的日子。天空阴沉沉的,看起来像是会下雨,不过谁也没把握。 [点击阅读]
拉贝日记
作者:佚名
章节:32 人气:0
摘要:胡绳60年前,侵华日军制造的南京大屠杀惨案,是日本法西斯在中国所犯严重罪行之一,是中国现代史上极其惨痛的一页。虽然日本当时当权者和以后当权者中的许多人竭力否认有这样的惨案,企图隐瞒事实真相,但事实就是事实,不断有身经这个惨案的人(包括当时的日本军人)提供了揭露惨案真相的材料。最近,江苏人民出版社和江苏教育出版社共同翻译出版了《拉贝日记》。 [点击阅读]
挪威的森林
作者:佚名
章节:20 人气:0
摘要:编者语我们为什么选择村上春树?不是因为他连获日本文艺界的奖项:也不是因为他的作品高居日本畅销书榜首:更不是因为他的作品掀起年轻一代的抢购热潮,突破四百万部的销量!那么,为什么?答案是:他和他的作品带给我们思想的特异空间,而轻描淡写的日常生活片断唤起的生活气氛令我们有所共鸣。更重要的是他以六十年代的背景道出九十年代,甚至世世代代的年轻心声。 [点击阅读]
推销员之死
作者:佚名
章节:22 人气:0
摘要:前言阿瑟·米勒,美国剧作家,1915年出生在纽约一个犹太人中产阶级家庭,父亲是一个时装商人,他在哈莱姆上小学,布鲁克林上中学,中学毕业以后工作了两年,后来进入密执根大学,大学期间开始戏剧创作,写了4部剧本,并两次获奖。他第一部在百老汇上演的剧作是《鸿运高照的人》(1944),成名作是1947年创作的《全是我的儿子》,作品获当年度的纽约剧评界奖。 [点击阅读]