TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the school-house was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog -- like a very dog. She would be sorry some day -- maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY!

But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away -- ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas -- and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No -- better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a blood-curdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! now his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate! -- the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!"

Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively:

"What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!"

Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said:

"Well, that beats anything!"

Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called --

"Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!"

The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright.

"He dasn't tell! So it was a witch that done it. I just knowed it."

He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying:

"Brother, go find your brother!"

He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other.

Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously – to an imaginary company:

"Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow."

Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called:

"Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?"

"Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that -- that --"

"Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting -- for they talked "by the book," from memory.

"Who art thou that dares to hold such language?"

"I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know."

"Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!"

They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said:

"Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!"

So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted:

"Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?"

"I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it."

"Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back."

There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell.

"Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill you. That's fair."

"Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book."

"Well, it's blamed mean -- that's all."

"Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me."

This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse.

The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever

汤姆东躲西闪地穿过几条巷子，离开了同学们返校的路，然后就郁郁不欢地慢慢走着。
他在一条小溪流上来回跨过两三次，因为孩子们普遍迷信来回跨水就会让人追不上。半小时
后，他渐渐消失在卡第夫山上道格拉斯家那幢大房子后面，身后山谷里的学校只是隐约可
见。他走进一片茂密的森林，披荆斩棘，闯出一条路，来到林中深处，在一棵枝叶茂盛的橡
树下，一屁股坐到青苔地上。树林里纹丝不动，中午的闷热，令人窒息，连树上的鸟儿都停
止了歌唱。大地一片昏睡，只有远处偶尔才传来一两声啄木鸟啄木的得得声，这使得原本寂
静的森林显得更加寂然无声，汤姆也更加觉得孤独无援。他心灰意冷，他的情绪和这里的环
境正合拍。他双手托着下巴，两肘撑在膝盖上，沉思着在那儿坐了很长时间。在他看来，活
着充其量不过是受罪。想到这，他越发羡慕新近故去的吉米·赫杰斯。他想伴随着风声飒飒
的树林和坟头摇曳的花草，人要是能无忧无虑地躺在那儿长眠不醒，美梦不断，那一定很惬
意。这时他真心希望以前在主日学校里表现得清清白白。那样的话，他这回就可以无所牵挂
地去了，一死百了。至于那个姑娘，他到底干了什么呢？什么也没干。他本来出于善意的目
的，可她却像对待狗那样对待他——简直就拿他当狗待。总有一天她会后悔的。到那时，她
后悔也来不及了。他要是能暂时地死一会儿，那该有多好啊！
    年青人天性轻松愉快，想长久地压抑它是不可能的。不久，汤姆不知不觉地关心起眼前
的现实来。他要是调头就走，人不知鬼不觉地消失了，那会有什么后果呢？他要是到海外无
人知晓的地方去，一去不回，那又怎样呢？而她又作何感想呢？当小丑的念头又在他脑海闪
现，结果弄得他很难受。试想一想在汤姆的潜意识中，他已隐隐约约来到了神圣而浪漫的国
度，这哪能容得下小丑的那些打诨插科、花花绿绿的紧身衣之类的东西。得了，他更愿意当
一名士兵，待到伤痕累累，名噪天下时再返归故里。这不行，最好还是与印第安人为伍，和
他们一起捕杀野牛，在崇山峻岭和西部人迹罕至的大平原上作战。等将来当上酋长时再回
来。到那时，头上插着羽毛，身上涂满吓人的花纹，再找一个夏日清晨，乘大家昏昏欲睡的
时候，昂首阔步，大模大样地走进主日学校并发出令人毛骨悚然的呐喊声，好让同伴们按捺
不住羡慕之情，看得两眼直发呆。这不还不够劲，还有比这更神气的事情，他要去当海盗！
对，就这样！现在，未来就在眼前并闪烁着异光。瞧吧，他将闻名天下，令闻者颤栗。他将
乘坐那条长长的黑色“风暴神”号快艇，船头插上吓人的旗帜，披风斩浪航行在浪花翻滚的
大海上，这该有多么威风！等到了名声齐天，那时候，你再瞧他回来的样子吧！他将突然出
现在乡里故居，昂首阔步地走进教堂。他脸色黝黑，一副饱经风霜的样子。只见他上身穿件
黑色绒布紧身衣，下身是条宽大短裤，脚蹬肥大长统靴，还背着大红肩带，腰带上挂着马
枪，身边还别了把用损了的短剑。那顶垂边的帽子上飘着翎毛，黑旗迎风招展，上面交叉着
骷髅头和白骨。听到别人悄声低语：“这就是海盗汤姆·索亚——西班牙海面上的黑衣侠
盗！”汤姆心里一阵又一阵地狂喜。
    对，就这么办，他决定这么办：从家里逃走，去过这种生活，并打算第二天早晨就开始
行动。因此他必须现在就着手准备。他将带上他所有的家当。他走到近处的一根烂树干旁
边，开始用他的巴露折刀在一头开挖起来。不一会儿就传来了空木头的声音。他把手按在那
儿，嘴里咕哝着咒语，样子令人难忘：
    没有来的，快来！
    在这儿的，留下来！
    接着他刨去泥土，下面露出一块松木瓦块。他把它拿开，露出一个底和四周是松木瓦块
的小宝箱来。小宝箱很精致，里面有一个弹子。汤姆惊讶不已！他迷惑不解地挠着头说：
    “嘿，怎么不灵了！”
    于是他一气之下扔掉那个弹子，站在那儿沉思。原来他的迷信没有灵验。他和所有的伙
伴一向都认为它是万无一失的，可是这次却没有。埋下一个弹子时，你要是念上几句有关的
咒语，等两周后再用汤姆刚说过的咒语，去挖弹子，你会发现：原来丢失、散落到各地的弹
子都聚到了这里。可是现在，它千真万确地失败了。汤姆的全部信心从根本上发生了动摇。
他以前多次听说过的都是成功的例子，根本没听说过哪次不灵验。他百思不得其解，最后认
定有妖魔插了一杠子，破了咒语。他觉得这样解释可以让他聊以自慰。于是他在周围找到一
个小沙堆，沙堆中间有一个漏斗形凹陷处。他扑到地上，嘴紧贴着凹陷处喊道：
    “小甲虫，小甲虫，告诉我这究竟是怎么回事！小甲虫，小甲虫，请告诉我这究竟是怎
么回事呀！”
    沙子开始动起来，一只黑色小甲虫很快钻出来，可是刚一出现，又被吓得缩了回去。
    “它不说！我知道了，一定有妖魔在捣鬼。”
    他十分清楚和巫婆斗没什么好处，于是他垂头丧气，不得不让了步。但是他忽然又想起
他刚才扔掉的那颗石子，何不再把它找回来呢？于是他就边走边耐心地找了起来。可是他没
找到。他又回到他的小宝箱旁边，原封不动地站在刚才扔弹子的地方。接着他从口袋里又掏
出一个弹子，朝同一个方向扔去，嘴里还说道：
    “老兄，去找你的兄弟吧！”
    弹子落地后，他走过去找起来。但是弹子可能扔得不是太近就是太远，因此他又试了两
回。最后一次成功了。两个弹子相距不到一英尺。
    就在这时，树林里绿色的林荫道上隐隐约约传来一声锡皮玩具喇叭声。汤姆迅速地脱掉
上衣和裤子，把背带改成腰带，拨开朽木后面的灌木丛，找出一副简陋的弓箭，一把木片的
剑和一只锡皮喇叭。片刻之间他就抓着这些东西，赤着脚，敝着怀，跳出去了。他很快在一
颗大榆树底下停下来，也吹了一声喇叭作为回应，然后踮着脚警觉地东张张西望望，他谨慎
地——对想象中的同伴说：
    “稳住，好汉们！听号声再行动。”
    这时，乔·哈帕出现了。和汤姆一样，他精心装备，轻装上阵。
    汤姆喊道：
    “站住！来者何人，来经许可，竟敢闯进谢伍德森林？”
    “我乃皇家卫士戈次勃恩的至友，走遍天下，所向无阻。
    你是何人，竟敢——竟敢……”
    “竟敢口出狂言，”汤姆说。他是在提示哈帕，因为他们全凭记忆，在背这些话。
    “你是何人，竟敢口出狂言？”
    “我吗？我乃罗宾汉是也，你这匹夫马上就会知道我的厉害。”
    “这么说来，你真的是那位名扬四海的绿林好汉喽？我正想与你较量较量，看看这林中
乐士归谁所有。接招！”
    他们各持一把木片的剑，把身上多余的东西都扔到地上，两人脚对脚呈对峙状站立，开
始了一场“两上两下”的酣战。
    汤姆说：
    “听着，你要是懂得剑法，我们就痛痛快快地比一比吧！”
    于是他们就“痛痛快快地比一比”了，结果比得两个人气喘吁吁、汗流浃背。后来汤姆
嚷道：
    “倒下！倒下！你怎么不倒下呀？”
    “我不干！你自己怎么不倒下呀？你招架不住了。”
    “倒不倒没什么关系。可书上说我不能倒下去，书上还说‘接着反手一剑，他就把可怜
的戈次勃恩的至友刺死了。’，你应该转过身去，让我一剑刺中你的后背才对。”
    乔没法子，只好转过身去，挨了重重的一刺，倒在地上。“听着，”乔从地上爬起来
说，“你得让我把你杀掉，那才公平。”
    “嘿，那怎么行呢？书上又没这么说。”
    “得了，你真他妈的太小气了——拉倒吧。”
    “喂，我说乔，你可以扮演达克修士或是磨坊主的儿子马奇，拿一根铁头木棍打我一
顿，或者我来扮诺丁汉的行政司法官，你扮一会儿罗宾汉，把我杀死也行。”
    这主意倒令人满意，于是他们就这么办了。后来汤姆又扮演了起初的角色罗宾汉，他让
那个背信弃义的尼姑给害了。由于伤口没有得到照顾，他失血太多，耗尽了精力。最后乔扮
演了一伙绿林好汉，哭哭啼啼，悲伤地拖着他前进，把他的弓递到他那双软弱无力的手里，
汤姆就说了：
    “箭落之地，绿林成荫，可怜的罗宾汉葬那里。”说完他射出那支箭，身体往后一仰，
准备倒地而死，可偏巧倒在有刺的草上。他猛地跳起来，那活蹦乱跳的样子简直不像是在装
死。
    两个孩子穿戴好衣帽，把他们的行头藏起来就走了，他们很伤心现在已经没有绿林好汉
了，很想知道现代文明中有什么可以弥补这一缺陷。他们说宁可在谢伍德森林里当一年绿林
好汉，也不愿意当一辈子的美国总统