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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 16, Página 8
Around
midnight,
Joe
woke
up
and
called
the
boys.
There
was
a
heavy
feeling
in
the
air
that
seemed
to
signal
something.
The
boys
huddled
together,
seeking
the
comfort
of
the
fire,
even
though
the
stifling
atmosphere
was
oppressive.
They
sat
quietly,
focused
and
waiting.
The
solemn
silence
continued.
Beyond
the
fire's
light,
everything
was
swallowed
by
darkness.
Suddenly,
a
flickering
glow
briefly
revealed
the
trees
and
then
vanished.
Another
came,
a
bit
stronger.
Then
another.
A
faint
moan
sighed
through
the
forest
branches,
and
the
boys
felt
a
light
breeze
on
their
cheeks,
shuddering
with
the
thought
that
the
Spirit
of
the
Night
had
passed.
There
was
a
pause.
Then
a
strange
flash
turned
night
into
day,
showing
every
blade
of
grass
clearly.
It
also
revealed
three
white,
startled
faces.
A
deep
thunder
rolled
and
rumbled
in
the
distance.
A
cold
gust
passed,
rustling
leaves
and
scattering
ashes
around
the
fire.
Another
fierce
flash
lit
up
the
forest,
followed
by
a
crash
that
seemed
to
tear
the
treetops
above
the
boys.
They
clung
together
in
fear
as
darkness
returned.
A
few
large
raindrops
began
to
fall
on
the
leaves.
"Quick!
boys,
head
for
the
tent!"
shouted
Tom.
They
dashed
off,
stumbling
over
roots
and
vines
in
the
dark,
each
taking
a
different
path.
A
fierce
wind
roared
through
the
trees,
making
everything
sing.
Blinding
flashes
and
deafening
thunder
followed
one
after
another.
Then
a
heavy
rain
poured
down,
driven
by
the
rising
storm.
The
boys
shouted
to
each
other,
but
the
wind
and
thunder
drowned
their
voices.
Eventually,
they
all
found
their
way
back
to
the
tent,
cold,
scared,
and
soaked,
but
grateful
for
each
other's
company.
They
couldn't
talk,
as
the
old
sail
flapped
wildly,
even
if
the
other
noises
had
allowed
it.
The
storm
grew
stronger,
and
soon
the
sail
tore
loose
and
flew
away.
The
boys
grabbed
each
other's
hands
and
ran,
stumbling
and
bruised,
to
the
shelter
of
a
large
oak
by
the
riverbank.
The
storm
was
at
its
peak.
Under
the
constant
lightning,
everything
was
clearly
visible:
the
bending
trees,
the
foamy
river,
the
spray
of
water,
and
the
high
bluffs
on
the
other
side
glimpsed
through
the
rain.
Occasionally,
a
giant
tree
fell
with
a
crash,
and
the
thunder
continued
with
sharp,
terrifying
bursts.
The
storm
reached
a
climax
that
seemed
ready
to
tear
the
island
apart,
burn
it
down,
drown
it,
blow
it
away,
and
deafen
everyone
all
at
once.
It
was
a
wild
night
for
young
boys
to
be
caught
outside.
But
finally,
the
storm
ended,
and
the
forces
retreated
with
weaker
threats
and
grumbles,
and
peace
returned.
The
boys
went
back
to
camp,
feeling
awed,
but
they
found
something
to
be
thankful
for—the
great
sycamore,
which
sheltered
their
beds,
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,
as
they
were
careless
boys,
typical
of
their
age,
and
hadn't
prepared
for
rain.
This
was
worrying,
as
they
were
drenched
and
cold.
They
expressed
their
distress,
but
soon
discovered
that
the
fire
had
burned
far
enough
under
the
large
log
it
was
built
against
(where
it
curved
upward
and
separated
from
the
ground)
that
a
small
part
had
stayed
dry.
They
worked
patiently
until,
with
shreds
and
bark
gathered
from
the
undersides
of
sheltered
logs,
they
coaxed
the
fire
back
to
life.
Then
they
piled
on
large
dead
branches
until
they
had
a
roaring
fire
and
felt
cheerful
again.
They
dried
their
boiled
ham
and
had
a
feast,
and
afterward,
they
sat
by
the
fire,
recounting
and
embellishing
their
midnight
adventure
until
morning,
as
there
wasn't
a
dry
spot
to
sleep
on
anywhere
around.
As
the
sun
started
to
peek
at
the
boys,
they
felt
sleepy
and
went
to
the
sandbar
to
rest.
Eventually,
the
sun's
heat
woke
them,
and
they
reluctantly
prepared
breakfast.
After
eating,
they
felt
stiff
and
a
bit
homesick
again.
Tom
noticed
this
and
tried
to
lift
their
spirits.
They
weren't
interested
in
marbles,
the
circus,
or
swimming.
He
reminded
them
of
their
exciting
secret,
which
cheered
them
up
a
bit.
While
this
excitement
lasted,
he
got
them
involved
in
a
new
idea.
Instead
of
being
pirates,
they
would
become
Indians
for
a
change.
This
idea
appealed
to
them,
so
soon
they
were
covered
in
black
mud
from
head
to
toe,
looking
like
zebras—all
of
them
chiefs,
naturally—and
they
ran
through
the
woods
to
attack
an
imaginary
English
settlement.
Eventually,
they
split
into
three
rival
tribes,
jumping
out
at
each
other
with
loud
war
cries,
pretending
to
kill
and
scalp
each
other
by
the
thousands.
It
was
a
bloody
day,
and
therefore,
a
very
satisfying
one.
They
gathered
back
at
camp
around
suppertime,
hungry
and
content.
However,
a
problem
arose—enemy
Indians
couldn't
share
a
meal
without
making
peace
first,
and
this
was
impossible
without
smoking
a
peace
pipe.
They
didn't
know
any
other
way.
Two
of
them
almost
regretted
not
staying
pirates.
Still,
they
had
no
choice,
so
they
put
on
as
cheerful
a
face
as
they
could
and
called
for
the
pipe,
taking
turns
smoking
it.
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — B2 Inglés | Cuentana