Well, he s mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line.
I wish we could get him out of there.
My! we couldn t get him out, Tom. And besides, twouldn t do any good;
they d ketch him again.
Yes so they would. But I hate to hear em abuse him so like the dickens
when he never done that.
I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear em say he s the bloodiest looking villain
in this country, and they wonder he wasn t ever hung before.
Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I ve heard em say that if he
was to get free they d lynch him.
And they d do it, too.
The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the
twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood
of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that
something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But
nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in
this luckless captive.
The boys did as they had often done before went to the cell grating and
gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and
there were no guards.
His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences
before it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and
treacherous to the last degree when Potter said:
You ve been mighty good to me, boys better n anybody else in this town.
And I don t forget it, I don t. Often I says to myself, says I, I used
to mend all the boys kites and things, and show em where the good
fishin places was, and befriend em what I could, and now they ve
all forgot old Muff when he s in trouble; but Tom don t, and Huck
don t _they_ don t forget him, says I, and I don t forget them. Well,
boys, I done an awful thing drunk and crazy at the time that s the only
way I account for it and now I got to swing for it, and it s right.
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