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The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

Page 149 of 223, printed 149

Right, and _best_, too, I reckon hope so, anyway. Well, we won t talk about that. I don t want to make _you_ feel bad; you ve befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don t _you_ ever get drunk then you won t ever get here. Stand a litter furder west so that s it; it s a prime comfort to see faces that s friendly when a body s in such a muck of trouble, and there don t none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces good friendly faces. Git up on one another s backs and let me touch em. That s it. Shake hands yourn ll come through the bars, but mine s too big. Little hands, and weak but they ve helped Muff Potter a power, and they d help him more if they could. Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the courtroom, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the courtroom, but invariably heard distressing news the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe s evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury s verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the courthouse the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further 149
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