THERE comes a time in every rightlyconstructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck.

"Oh, most anywhere."

"Why, is it hid all around?"

"No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck -- sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses."

"Who hides it?"

"Why, robbers, of course -- who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?"

"I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time."

"So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there."

"Don't they come after it any more?"

"No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks -- a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics."

"HyroQwhich?"

"Hy'roglyphics -- pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything."

"Have you got one of them papers, Tom?"

"No."

"Well then, how you going to find the marks?"

"I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of deadlimb trees -- dead loads of 'em."

"Is it under all of them?"

"How you talk! No!"

"Then how you going to know which one to go for?"

"Go for all of 'em!"

"Why, Tom, it'll take all summer."

"Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?"

Huck's eyes glowed.

"That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds."

"All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece -- there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar."

"No! Is that so?"

"Cert'nly -- anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?"

"Not as I remember."

"Oh, kings have slathers of them."

"Well, I don' know no kings, Tom."

"I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around."

"Do they hop?"

"Hop? -- your granny! No!"

"Well, what did you say they did, for?"

"Shucks, I only meant you'd see 'em -- not hopping, of course -- what do they want to hop for? -- but I mean you'd just see 'em -- scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard."

"Richard? What's his other name?"

"He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name."

"No?"

"But they don't."

"Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say – where you going to dig first?"

"Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?"

"I'm agreed."

So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke.

"I like this," said Tom.

"So do I."

"Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?"

"Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time."

"Well, ain't you going to save any of it?"

"Save it? What for?"

"Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by."

"Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?"

"I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married."

"Married!"

"That's it."

"Tom, you -- why, you ain't in your right mind."

"Wait -- you'll see."

"Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well."

"That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight."

"Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?"

"It ain't a gal at all -- it's a girl."

"It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl -- both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?"

"I'll tell you some time -- not now."

"All right -- that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever."

"No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging."

They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said:

"Do they always bury it as deep as this?"

"Sometimes -- not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place."

So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said:

"Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?"

"I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's."

"I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land."

"She take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on."

That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said:

"Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?"

"It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now."

"Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime."

"Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!"

"Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?"

"I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it."

"Well, I'll come around and maow to-night."

"All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes."

The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said:

"It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again."

"Well, but we can't be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot."

"I know it, but then there's another thing."

"What's that?".

"Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early."

Huck dropped his shovel.

"That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here."

"Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it."

"Lordy!"

"Yes, they do. I've always heard that."

"Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure."

"I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!"

"Don't Tom! It's awful."

"Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit."

"Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else."

"All right, I reckon we better."

"What'll it be?"

Tom considered awhile; and then said:

"The ha'nted house. That's it!"

"Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom -- nobody could."

"Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime."

"Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night."

"Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway -- but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night -- just some blue lights slipping by the windows -- no regular ghosts."

"Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em."

"Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?"

"Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so -- but I reckon it's taking chances."

They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill

生得健全的男孩长到一定的时候就会萌生强烈的欲望：到它处去掘地寻宝。一天，汤姆
也突生此念。他外出去找乔·哈帕，但没有找到。接着，他又去找本·罗杰斯，可是他去钓
鱼去了。不久，他碰到了赤手大盗哈克·费恩。这倒也不错。汤姆把他拉到一个没人的地
方，推心置腹地和他摊了牌。哈克欣然表示同意。凡是好玩的，又无须花本钱的冒险活动，
哈克总是乐而不疲的。他有足够的时间，而时间又不是金钱，他正愁着没处花呢。
    “我们上哪儿挖去？”哈克问。
    “噢，好多地方都行哪。”
    “怎么，难道到处都藏金匿银吗？”
    “不，当然不是。财宝埋在一些相当特殊的地方，哈克——埋在岛上，有的装在朽木箱
子里，埋在一棵枯死的大树底下，就是半夜时分树影照到的地方；不过，大多数情况下是埋
在神鬼出没的房子下面。”
    “是谁埋的呢？”
    “嘿，你想还会有谁？当然是强盗们喽——难道是主日学校的校长不成？”
    “我不知道。换了我，我才不把它给埋起来，我会拿出去花掉，痛痛快快地潇洒一回。”
    “我也会的。但是，强盗们不这样干。他们总把钱埋起来，就撒手不问了。”
    “埋过以后他们就不再来找它吗？”
    “不，他们是想再找的。可是，他们要不是忘记当初留下的标志，就是死了。总之，财
宝埋在那里，时间长了，都上了锈。渐渐地等到后来，就有人发现一张变了色的旧纸条，上
面写着如何去找那些记号——这种纸条要花一个星期才能读通，因为上面用的差不多尽是些
密码和象形文字。”
    “象形——象形什么？”
    “象形文字——图画之类的玩艺儿，你知道那玩艺儿看上去，好像没有什么意思。”
    “你得到那样的纸条了吗，汤姆？”
    “还没有。”
    “那么，你打算怎么去找那些记号呢？”
    “我不需要什么记号。他们老爱把财宝埋在闹鬼的屋子里或是一个岛上，再不就埋在枯
死的树下面，那树上有一独枝伸出来。哼，我们已经在杰克逊岛上找过一阵子了，以后什么
时候，我们可以再去找找。在鬼屋河岸上，有间闹鬼的老宅，那儿还有许许多多的枯树——
多得很呢。”
    “下面全埋着财宝吗？”
    “瞧你说的！哪有那么多！”
    “那么，你怎么知道该在哪一棵下面挖呢？”
    “所有的树下面都要挖一挖。”
    “哎，汤姆，这样干，可得挖上一整个夏天呀。”
    “哦，那又怎么样？想想看你挖到一个铜罐子，里面装了一百块大洋，都上了锈，变了
颜色；或者挖到了一只箱子，里面尽是些钻石。你该作何感想？”
    哈克的眼睛亮了起来。
    “那可真太棒了。对我来说，简直棒极了。你只要把那一百块大洋给我就得了，钻石我
就不要了。”
    “好吧。不过，钻石我可不会随便扔掉。有的钻石一颗就值二十美元——有的也不那么
值钱，不过也要值六角到一块。”
    “哎呀！是真的吗？”
    “那当然啦——人人都这么说。你难道未见过钻石，哈克？”
    “记忆中好像没见过。”
    “嗨，国王的钻石可多着呢。”
    “唉，汤姆，我一个国王也不认识呀。”
    “这我知道。不过，你要是到欧洲去，你就能看到一大群国王，到处乱窜乱跳。”
    “他们乱窜乱跳？”
    “什么乱窜乱跳——你这糊涂蛋！不是！”
    “哦，那你刚才说他们什么来着？”
    “真是瞎胡闹，我的意思是说你会看见他们的——当然不是乱窜乱跳——他们乱窜乱跳
干什么？——不过，我是说你会看见他们——用通俗的话说就是到处都有国王。比方说那个
驼背的理查老国王。”
    “理查？他姓什么？”
    “他没有什么姓。国王只有名，没有姓。”
    “没有姓？”
    “确实没有。”
    “唉，要是他们喜欢，汤姆，那也好；不过，我不想当国王，只有名，没有姓，像个黑
鬼似的。得了，我问你——你打算从哪儿动手呢？”
    “嗯，我也不知道。我们先去鬼屋河岸对面的小山上，从那棵枯树那儿开始挖，你说好
不好？”
    “我同意。”
    于是，他们就找到一把不大好使的镐和一把铁锹，踏上了三英里的路程。等到达目的
地，俩人已经热得满头大汗，气喘吁吁，于是往就近的榆树下面一躺，歇歇脚，抽袋烟。
    “我喜欢干这活儿。”汤姆说。
    “我也是。”
    “喂，我说哈克，要是现在就找到了财宝，你打算怎么花你的那份呢？”
    “嗨，我就天天吃馅饼，喝汽水，有多少场马戏，我就看多少场，场场不落。我敢说我
会快活得像活神仙。”
    “嗯，不过你不打算攒点钱吗？”
    “攒钱？干什么用？”
    “嘿，细水长流嘛。”
    “哦，那没用的。我爸迟早会回到镇上，要是我不抓紧把钱花光，他一准会手伸得老
长，抢我的钱。告诉你吧，他会很快把钱花得一个子儿不剩。你打算怎么花你的钱呢，汤
姆？”
    “我打算买一面新鼓，一把货真价实的宝剑，一条红领带和一只小斗犬，还要娶个老
婆。”
    “娶老婆！”
    “是这么回事。”
    “汤姆，你——喂，你脑子不正常吧。”
    “等着瞧吧，你会明白的。”
    “唉，要娶老婆，你可真傻冒透了。看看我爸跟我妈。穷争恶吵！唉，他们见面就打。
自我记事他们一直打个没完。”
    “这是两码子的事。我要娶的这个女孩子可不会跟我干仗。”
    “汤姆，我以为她们都是一样。她们都会跟你胡搅蛮缠。你最好事先多想想。我劝你三
思而后行。这个妞叫什么？”
    “她不是什么妞——是个女孩子。”
    “反正都一样，我想；有人喊妞，有人喊女孩——都是一码子事，一样。噢，对了，她
到底叫什么来着，汤姆？”
    “等以后再告诉你——现在不行。”
    “那好吧——以后告诉就以后告诉吧，只是你成了家就孤独了我喽。”
    “那怎么会呢，你可以搬过来，跟我们一起住。咱们还是别谈这些，动手挖吧。”
    他们干了半个小时，大汗淋漓而未果。他们又拼命地干了半个钟头，还是一无所获。哈
克说：
    “他们总是埋得这样深吗？”
    “有时候是的——不过不总是这样。一般是不会这样的。
    我想我们是不是没找准地方。”
    于是，他们又换了个新地方，开始挖起来。他们干得不快，但仍有所进步。他们坚持不
懈，默默地干了一段时间。末了，哈克倚着铁锹，用袖子抹了把额头上豆大的汗珠，说道：
    “挖完这个，你打算再到哪里去挖呢？”
    “我想咱们也许可以到那儿去挖，卡第夫山上寡妇家后面的那棵老树下面挖。”
    “那地方不错。不过，那寡妇会不会把咱们挖到的财宝据为己有呢，汤姆？那可是在她
家的地上呀。”
    “据为己有！说得倒轻松，叫她试试看。谁找到的宝藏，就该归谁，这与谁家的地没任
何关系。”
    这种说法令人满意。他们继续挖着。后来，哈克说：
    “妈的，咱们准是又挖错了地方。你看呢？”
    “这就怪了，哈克。我真搞不懂。有时候，巫婆会暗中捣鬼。我猜问题出在这儿。”
    “胡说！巫婆白天是没有法力的。”
    “对，这话不假。我没想到这一点。啊，我知道问题出在哪儿了！咱俩真是他妈的大傻
瓜两个！你得搞清楚夜半时分，那个伸出的树杈影子落在什么地方，然后就在那里开挖才行
呀！”
    “可不是吗。真是的，我俩傻乎乎地白挖了一场。这事真该死，咱们得半夜三更跑到这
儿来。路程可不近。你能溜出来吗？”
    “我想我会出来。咱们今晚非来不可，因为要是给旁人看见这些坑坑洼洼，他们立刻就
会知道这儿有什么，号上这块地方。”
    “那么，我今晚就到你家附近学猫叫。”
    “好吧。咱们把工具藏到矮树丛里。”
    当夜，两个孩子果然如约而来。他们坐在树荫底下等着。这是个偏僻的地方，又值夜
半，迷信的说法把这地方搞得阴森森的。沙沙作响的树叶像是鬼怪们在窃窃私语，暗影里不
知有多少魂灵埋伏着，远处不时传来沉沉的狗吠，一只猫头鹰阴森地厉叫着。两个孩子给这
种阴沉恐怖的气氛吓住了，他们很少讲话。后来，估模时间该到１２点钟了，他们就在树影
垂落的地方作了记号，开始挖起来。他们的希望开始涨潮，兴致越来越高，干劲越来越大，
坑越挖越深。每次他们听到镐碰到什么东西的声响，心都激动得怦怦狂跳，可每次又都免不
了失望。原来那不过是碰到了一块石头或是一块木头。汤姆终于开口道：
    “这样干还是不行，哈克，咱们又搞错了。”
    “哎，怎么会呢。咱们在树影落下的地方作的记号，一点没错。”
    “我知道，不过还有一点。”
    “是什么？”
    “唉，咱们只是在估摸时间。也可能太早了或太迟了。”
    哈克把铁锹往地上一扔。
    “对，”他说，“问题就出在这儿。咱们别挖这个坑了。咱们根本搞不准时间，而且这
事太可怕了，半夜三更的，在这么个鬼蜮横流的地方。我老觉得背后有什么东西盯着我。我
简直不敢回头；前面说不定也有什么怪物在等着害咱们呢。自打来到这地方，我就浑身直起
鸡皮疙瘩。”
    “唉，我也差不多有同感，哈克。他们在树下埋财宝的时候，通常还埋上一个死人来作
看守。”
    “天啊！”
    “是真的。我常听人家这么说。”
    “汤姆，我不喜欢在有死人的地方闲荡。否则一定会遇上麻烦的，肯定会的。”
    “我也不想打扰他们。说不定这儿会有个死人伸出脑袋，开口说话呢！”
    “别说了，汤姆！真恐怖。”
    “嘿，可不是。哈克，我也觉得不对劲儿。”
    “喂，汤姆，咱们还是别在这儿挖了，再到别处碰碰运气。”
    “好吧，就这么办。”
    “再到哪儿去挖呢？”
    汤姆思忖了一会，然后说：
    “到那间闹鬼的屋子里去挖。对，就这么办！”
    “妈的，我也不喜欢闹鬼的屋子，汤姆。唉，那里比死人还可怕。也许死人会说话，可
是他们不会趁你不注意，披着寿衣悄悄溜过来，猛地从你背后探出身来，龇牙咧嘴；但他们
就爱这么干。我可吃不住这份惊吓，汤姆——没人吃得住。”
    “是呀。不过，哈克，鬼怪只是在夜间才出来。咱们白天到那儿去挖，他们不会碍事
的。”
    “对，这话不错。可是你知道，不管是白天，还是夜里，都没人去那间鬼屋。”
    “噢，这大概是因为他们不喜欢到一个出过人命案的地方去——可是，除了夜里，那所
房子周围倒没谁看见过什么——夜里，只有些蓝光在窗户那儿飘来荡去——不是总有鬼。”
    “哦，汤姆，你看到蓝光飘忽的地方，那后面一准跟着一个鬼。这是有道理的，因为你
知道，除了鬼怪，没有什么人点蓝色的火光。”
    “是呀，这话没错。不过，既然他们白天不会出来，咱们还怕什么呢？”
    “唉，好吧。既然你这么说，咱们就去探探那间鬼屋——不过，我想我们只是在碰运
气。”
    这时候，他们已经动身往山下走。在他们下面的山谷中间，那间“鬼屋”，孤零零地立
在月光底下，围墙早就没有了，
    遍地杂草丛生，台阶半掩，烟囱倾坍，窗框空空荡荡，屋顶一个犄角也塌掉了。两个孩
子瞪大眼睛看了一会，想见一见窗户边有蓝幽幽的火光飘过；在这种特定的氛围里他们压低
了嗓音说着话，一边尽量靠右边走，远远躲开那间鬼屋，穿过卡第夫山后的树林，一路走回
家去