AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely preceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a death-watch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder -- it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard.

It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light.

A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave.

Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper:

"Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?"

Huckleberry whispered:

"I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?"

"I bet it is."

There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered:

"Say, Hucky -- do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?"

"O' course he does. Least his sperrit does."

Tom, after a pause:

"I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss."

"A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom."

This was a damper, and conversation died again.

Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said:

"Sh!"

"What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts.

"~sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?"

"I --"

"There! Now you hear it."

"Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?"

"I dono. Think they'll see us?"

"Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come."

"Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all."

"I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver."

"Listen!"

The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard.

"Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?"

"It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful."

Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder:

"It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?"

"I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I --'"

"Sh!"

"What is it, Huck?"

"They're humans! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice."

"No -- 'tain't so, is it?"

"I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely -- blamed old rip!"

"All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe."

"That's so -- that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?"

The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place.

"Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson.

Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him.

"Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment."

They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said:

"Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays."

"That's the talk!" said Injun Joe.

"Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you."

"Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to settle, you know!"

He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed:

"Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it – and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark.

Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered:

"That score is settled -- damn you."

Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three -- four -- five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's.

"Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said.

"It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving.

"What did you do it for?"

"I! I never done it!"

"Look here! That kind of talk won't wash."

Potter trembled and grew white.

"I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet -- worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe -- honest, now, old feller -- did I do it? Joe, I never meant to -- 'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful -- and him so young and promising."

"Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip -- and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now."

"Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe -- that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You won't tell, will you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands.

"No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say."

"Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry.

"Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you."

Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered:

"If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself -- chicken-heart!"

Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too

那天晚上９点半钟，汤姆和希德就像平常一样被吩咐上床睡觉，他们做完祷告，希德很
快就睡着了。汤姆没有睡着，他躺在床上，不耐烦地等着。他似乎觉得天快要亮时，才听到
钟敲了十下！这太令人失望了。他很想顺应神经的要求，翻翻身，动一动，可是他害怕吵醒
希德，于是他一动不动地躺着，两眼直愣愣地盯着黑咕隆咚的夜空。万籁俱寂，阴森可怕。
后来在那一片寂静中，有一点小小的，几乎听不出来的动静渐渐地大了起来。只听到钟摆滴
嗒滴嗒在响。那些老屋的屋梁也神秘地发出裂开似的声响。楼梯也隐隐约约，吱吱嘎嘎在
响。很明显是鬼怪们在四处活动了。从波莉姨妈卧室里传来一阵匀称的、沉闷的鼾声。这时
一只蟋蟀开始发出一阵令人心烦的唧唧的叫声，而人们却根本弄不清楚它在什么地方。接着
床头的墙里有一只小蛀虫发出一阵阴森可怕的踢嗒声，这声音使汤姆吓得心惊胆跳——这似
乎意味着某个人的日子不多了。然后远处有一只狗嗥叫起来，这叫声在夜晚的上空震荡，与
远处的隐隐约约传来的狗叫声相呼应着。汤姆简直难受极了。最后他认定时间已经停住了，
永恒已经开始了。他不由自主地打起盹来，钟敲了十一下，但是他没有听见。后来在他迷迷
糊糊、似睡非睡的状态中，从外面传来一阵非常凄惨的猫儿叫春的声音。一个邻居打开窗
户，声音惊动了他。一声“滚！你这瘟猫！”的骂声和一只空瓶子砸到他的姨妈的木棚小屋
上的破碎声使他完全清醒过来，片刻工夫，他便穿带好衣帽，从窗户出来，爬行在屋顶上。
他一边爬，一边小心谨慎地“咪呜”了一两次；然后纵身一跳，上了木棚小屋，再从那跳到
地上。哈克贝利·费恩早已等候在那里，手里还拿着他那只死猫。接着两个孩子一起消失在
黑暗中。半小时之后，他俩就穿行在坟地里的深草丛中。
    这是一个西部的老式的坟地，座落在离村子大约一英里的半山上。坟地周围有一道歪歪
斜斜的木板栅栏，有些地方往里倒，有的地方往外斜，总之，没有一个地方是笔直的。整片
墓地杂草丛生，所有的旧坟都塌陷下去，坟上连一块墓碑都没有。圆顶的、虫蛀的木牌子无
依无靠，歪歪倒倒地插在坟墓上。这些牌子上曾经写有“纪念某某”之类的字样，即使现在
有亮光，大多数已无法再辨认出来。
    一阵微风吹过树林，发出萧瑟声响，汤姆担心这可能是死鬼们在抱怨有人来打搅了他
们。两个孩子很少说话，就是说也只敢悄悄地说，因为此时此地，到处是一片肃穆和寂静，
令人压抑。他们找到了要找的那座新隆起的坟。在离坟几英尺内的地方，有三棵大榆树长在
一起，于是他们就躲在那里。
    他们静静地等了似乎很长一段时间，除了远处猫头鹰的叫声外，周围是一片死寂。汤姆
被闷得受不住了，他必须打破沉默开口谈点话，他低声问道：
    “哈奇，你相信死人愿意我们到这儿来吗？”
    哈克贝利低声说：
    “我问谁呢？这里肃静得令人害怕，是不是？”
    “是啊。”
    有好一阵子他俩没作声，各自都在心里想着这件事。之后汤姆又悄悄地说：
    “喂，我说哈奇——你知道霍斯·威廉斯听见我们讲话吗？”
    “那当然喽。至少他的阴魂能听见。”
    汤姆停了一会才说：
    “我刚才提他时，要是带上‘先生’二字就好了。不过我从来没有不尊敬他。别人都叫
他霍斯。”
    “汤姆，议论死人时要特别、特别小心才对。”
    这句话犹如一盆冷水让汤姆扫兴，因此谈话就中断了。
    过了一会，汤姆抓住哈克的胳膊说道：“嘘！”
    “怎么啦，汤姆？”他们俩紧紧靠在一起，心嘣嘣直跳。
    “嘘！又来了！你没有听见吗？”
    “我——”
    “听！现在听见了吧。”
    “哦，天啊，汤姆，他们来了，他们来了，真的！我们怎么办啊？”
    “我不知道。你想他们会看见我们吗？”
    “哦，汤姆，他们像猫一样，晚上也能看见东西。我要是不来就好了。”
    “啊，不要害怕。我想他们不会来找我们的麻烦。我们又没惹他们。我们只要一动也不
动，他们也许根本不会发现我们。”
    “汤姆，我是想不动。可是天啊，我浑身直发抖哩。”
    “听！”
    两个孩子凑得很近，低着头，屏住呼吸。这时从远远的坟地那边传来一阵低沉的说话声。
    “瞧！瞧那！”汤姆小声说，“那是什么？”
    “是鬼火。哦，汤姆，这太吓人了。”
    黑暗中，模模糊糊有几个影子走过来，一盏老式洋铁灯笼摇来晃去，地上被照得光点斑
斑。哈克马上战战兢兢地说：
    “肯定是鬼来了，我的老天爷呀，一共有三个！汤姆，我们死定了！你还能祷告吗？”
    “我来试试，不过你别怕。他们不会害我们的。现在我躺下睡觉，我——”’
    “嘘！”
    “是什么，哈克？”
    “是人！至少有一个是人。那是莫夫·波特老头的声音。”
    “不——那不是他的声音。”
    “我敢打赌我没搞错，你得绝对保持安静。他没那么灵，不会看见我们的。可能又和往
常一样喝醉了——这个该死无用的老东西！”
    “好吧，我一定保持安静。现在他们不走了。找不到他们了。这会儿他们又来了。现在
他们来劲了。又泄气了。又来劲了。劲头十足！他们这回找对了方向。喂，哈克，我听出了
另一个人的声音，那是印第安·乔。”
    “不错，是那个杀人不眨眼的杂种！我倒情愿他们都是鬼，鬼都比他们好得多。他们到
这能打什么坏主意呢？
    两个孩子全都止住，不再低语。这时那三个人来到坟边，站立的地方离孩子们藏身之处
还不到几英尺远。
    “到了。”第三个人说，提灯的人举起灯笼，灯光下现出的是年轻的医生鲁宾逊的面
孔。”
    波特和印第安·乔推着一个手推车，车上有一根绳子和两把铁锹。他们把车上的东西卸
下来，开始挖墓。医生把灯笼放在坟头上，走到榆树下，背靠着一棵坐下来。树离得很近，
两个孩子伸手就能碰到他。
    “挖快点，伙计们！”他低声说，“月亮随时都可能出来。”
    他们粗着嗓音应了一声后继续挖掘着。有一段时间，只能听到他们一锹一锹抛泥土和石
子所发出的嚓嚓声响。那声音非常单调刺耳。后来有一把铁锹碰到了棺材，发出了低沉的木
头声音。一两分钟后，那两个人就把棺材抬出来放在地上了。他们用铁锹撬开棺盖，把尸体
弄出来，随便掀到地上。月亮从云朵后面钻出来，照着尸体那张苍白的脸。他们把车准备
好，将尸体放上去，还盖上毯子，用绳子捆好它。波特拿出一把大弹簧刀，割断车上垂下来
的绳头，说：
    “医生，这该死的东西现在弄好了。再拿五块钱，要不然就别弄走它。”
    “对，讲得对！”印第安·乔说。
    “喂，我说，这是什么意思？”医生问道。“按你们要求，我事先已经给过你们钱了。”
    “不错，不过还远不止这些。”印第安·乔边说边走到已经站了起来的医生面前。“五
年前的一个晚上，我到你父亲的厨房讨点吃的，你把我给赶了出来，你还说我到厨房去没什
么好事；打那时起，我发誓：就是花上一百年的功夫，我也要摆平你。你父亲因我是盲流而
将我关进牢房。你想我会善罢甘休吗？印第安人的血也不是白流的，现在你落到我手里，你
得为此付出代价。”
    说到这，他已经开始在医生面前挥舞着拳头来威胁他。医生突然猛击一拳，将这个恶棍
打翻在地，波特扔掉刀，大声喊道：“嘿，你竟敢打我的朋友！”紧接着，他和医生扭打在
一起。两个人拼命打起来，脚踩着地上的草，踢得泥土飞扬。印第安·乔迅速地从地上爬起
来，眼里燃烧着怒火，抓起波特扔在地上的那把刀，像猫似的，弯着腰悄悄地在两个打架的
人周围转来转去，寻找着机会。突然医生猛地把对手摔开，抓起威廉斯坟上那块重重的墓
碑，一下子把波特打倒在地。与此同时，这个杂种乘机把刀子一下子全捅进了医生的胸膛。
医生晃了晃就倒下去，身体搭在波特身上。波特被弄得满身都是血。这时乌云遮住了这可怕
的惨相，那两个吓坏了的孩子在黑暗中连忙跑掉了。
    不久，云层退去，月亮又露出了面，印第安·乔站在那两个人身旁，凝视着他们。医生
咕咕哝哝地讲了些什么话，长长地喘了一两声气，然后就安静地死去了。那个杂种还说：
    “那笔帐就算扯平了——你这该死的家伙。”
    接着他又搜去尸体身上的东西，然后他将那把杀人的刀放在波特张开的石手里，坐上了
撬开的棺材。三——四——五分钟过去了，这时波特才开始动弹，并且呻吟起来。他的手握
住了那把刀。他举起刀来瞥了一眼，随即打了个冷颤，刀落到了地上。接着他坐起身来，推
开压着他的尸体，然后盯着它看了一会，又往周围望了望，心里感到迷惑不解。他的目光碰
到了乔的目光。
    “天啊，这是怎么回事，乔？”他说。
    “这事糟糕透了，”乔动也没动地说，“你干吗要这样干？”
    “我！我可没干这事。”
    “听着！这你怎么能赖掉呢。”
    波特吓得直抖，脸色变得煞白。
    “我认为我会醒酒的，今晚我本不想喝酒，可是现在脑子里还是糊里糊涂的，比我们来
这儿的时候还厉害。我现在昏昏沉沉，几乎回忆不起来任何事情。告诉我，乔，伙计，说老
实话，是我干的吗？乔，我根本不想那样干。天地良心，我根本不想那样干，乔，告诉我这
是怎么回事？乔？哦，这太可怕了——他这么年轻有为，前途远大。”
    “嘿，就是你俩扭打起来了，他用墓碑牌子砸了你一下，你就被砸叭下了。接着你爬起
来，晃晃悠悠地站不稳，就这样，你一把夺过这把刀，一下子捅进他的身体。这时候他又狠
命地给了你一击，于是你就躺在这儿，像死过去一样，人事不省，一直躺到现在。”
    “啊，我一点也不知道我都干了些什么。要是我当时清醒的话，我情愿马上就死掉。我
想这都是因为威士忌在作怪，当时又很冲动。乔，我从前还没有用过凶器。我跟人打过架，
可是从来没使过凶器。这一点人们都知道。乔，这事你可别说出去！乔，你说你不会说出
去，这才够意思啊。乔，我向来都喜欢你，也总是站在你一边的。你难道忘记了吗？乔，你
不会讲出去的，对不对？”于是这个可怜的家伙，双手合掌，祈求地跪倒在那个残忍的凶手
面前。
    “对。莫夫·波特，你一向待我不错，我不会对不起你。怎么样，我这样说算是公平合
理吧。”
    “啊，乔，你真是慈悲心肠。我要祝福你一辈子。”波特开始哭起来。
    “哦，得了，不要再说了。现在不是哭鼻子的时候。你从那边走，现在就动身，别留下
任何脚印。”
    波特开始还是小跑，很快就大跑起来。那个杂种站在那儿，看着他的背影，自言自语地
咕哝道：“他挨了一击，酒也没醒，瞧他那样，八成想不起来这把刀了。就算想他起来，他
已经跑出去有十里八里的了。他一个人是不敢再回到这里来取刀的——这个胆小鬼。”
    两三分钟后，只有月光照着那个被害的人，那个用毯子裹着的尸体，那个没有盖上盖子
的棺材，还有那座挖开的坟墓。一切又恢复了平静