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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 16, Página 8
Around
midnight,
Joe
woke
up
and
called
the
boys.
There
was
an
oppressive
feeling
in
the
air,
like
something
was
about
to
happen.
The
boys
gathered
close
to
the
fire
for
comfort,
even
though
the
air
was
hot
and
stifling.
They
sat
quietly,
waiting.
The
silence
continued.
Beyond
the
firelight,
everything
was
swallowed
by
darkness.
Then
a
faint
glow
revealed
the
trees
for
a
moment
and
vanished.
Another
came,
a
bit
stronger.
Then
another.
A
soft
moan
sighed
through
the
branches,
and
the
boys
felt
a
breath
on
their
cheeks,
shivering
as
if
the
Spirit
of
the
Night
had
passed
by.
There
was
a
pause.
A
strange
flash
turned
night
into
day,
showing
every
grass
blade
clearly.
It
also
showed
three
startled
faces.
A
deep
thunder
rolled
across
the
sky,
rumbling
in
the
distance.
A
cold
wind
swept
by,
rustling
leaves
and
scattering
ashes.
Another
bright
flash
lit
up
the
forest,
followed
by
a
crash
that
seemed
to
tear
the
treetops
above
them.
They
clung
together
in
fear
as
the
darkness
returned.
A
few
big
raindrops
fell
on
the
leaves.
"Quick!
Boys,
go
for
the
tent!"
exclaimed
Tom.
They
ran
off,
stumbling
over
roots
and
vines
in
the
dark,
each
going
in
a
different
direction.
A
strong
wind
roared
through
the
trees,
making
everything
sing.
One
blinding
flash
after
another
came,
and
thunder
pealed
loudly.
Then
heavy
rain
poured
down,
and
the
storm
blew
it
across
the
ground.
The
boys
shouted
to
each
other,
but
the
wind
and
thunder
drowned
their
voices.
Eventually,
they
all
made
it
to
the
tent,
cold,
scared,
and
soaked.
But
having
company
in
their
misery
was
something
to
be
grateful
for.
They
couldn't
talk,
the
old
sail
flapped
so
loudly,
even
if
the
other
noises
allowed
them.
The
storm
grew
stronger,
and
soon
the
sail
tore
free
and
flew
away.
The
boys
held
hands
and
ran,
stumbling
and
bruising
themselves,
to
the
shelter
of
a
large
oak
by
the
river.
The
storm
was
at
its
worst.
Under
the
constant
lightning,
everything
below
was
clear:
the
bending
trees,
the
river
white
with
foam,
the
spray,
the
outlines
of
the
high
bluffs
through
the
clouds
and
rain.
Occasionally,
a
giant
tree
fell,
crashing
through
the
younger
ones.
The
thunder
was
loud
and
sharp,
terrifying.
The
storm
climaxed
in
one
great
effort,
threatening
to
tear
the
island
apart,
burn
it,
drown
it,
blow
it
away,
and
deafen
everyone
at
once.
It
was
a
wild
night
for
young
boys
to
be
out.
But
finally,
the
storm
ended,
and
the
sounds
grew
weaker,
and
peace
returned.
The
boys
went
back
to
camp,
feeling
awed.
They
were
thankful
because
the
big
sycamore,
their
bed's
shelter,
was
now
a
ruin,
struck
by
lightning,
and
they
hadn't
been
under
it
when
it
happened.
Everything
in
camp
was
soaked,
including
the
campfire,
because
they
were
careless
boys
and
hadn't
prepared
for
rain.
They
were
upset,
soaked,
and
cold.
They
talked
about
their
distress,
but
then
they
found
that
the
fire
had
burned
far
enough
under
the
big
log
it
was
built
against
that
a
small
part
was
still
dry.
They
worked
patiently,
using
bark
and
twigs
from
sheltered
logs,
to
get
the
fire
going
again.
Then
they
piled
on
large
dead
branches
until
they
had
a
roaring
fire
and
felt
happy
again.
They
dried
their
boiled
ham
and
had
a
feast.
After
that,
they
sat
by
the
fire,
talking
about
their
midnight
adventure
until
morning,
because
there
was
no
dry
place
to
sleep
anywhere
around.
As
the
sun
began
to
shine
on
the
boys,
they
felt
sleepy
and
went
out
to
the
sandbar
to
rest.
After
a
while,
the
sun
made
them
too
hot,
and
they
slowly
got
up
to
make
breakfast.
After
eating,
they
felt
tired,
stiff,
and
a
bit
homesick
again.
Tom
noticed
this
and
tried
to
cheer
up
the
pirates
as
best
as
he
could.
But
they
weren't
interested
in
marbles,
the
circus,
or
swimming.
He
reminded
them
of
their
exciting
secret,
which
lifted
their
spirits
a
bit.
While
they
were
still
interested,
he
suggested
a
new
idea:
to
stop
being
pirates
for
a
while
and
become
Indians
instead.
They
liked
this
idea;
soon
they
were
covered
in
black
mud
from
head
to
toe,
like
zebras—all
of
them
were
chiefs,
of
course—and
then
they
ran
through
the
woods
to
attack
an
English
settlement.
Eventually,
they
split
into
three
enemy
tribes
and
jumped
out
at
each
other
from
hiding
places
with
loud
war
cries,
pretending
to
kill
and
scalp
each
other
by
thousands.
It
was
a
bloody
day
in
their
imaginations.
As
a
result,
it
was
a
very
satisfying
one.
They
gathered
at
the
camp
around
suppertime,
hungry
and
happy;
but
now
there
was
a
problem—enemy
Indians
couldn't
share
a
meal
together
without
first
making
peace,
and
this
was
impossible
without
smoking
a
peace
pipe.
They
hadn't
heard
of
any
other
way.
Two
of
the
boys
almost
wished
they
had
stayed
pirates.
However,
there
was
no
other
option;
so,
trying
to
be
cheerful,
they
called
for
the
pipe
and
took
a
puff
as
it
was
passed
around,
following
the
tradition.
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — B1 Inglés | Cuentana