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
73