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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 29, Página 3
“Who’s
ready
for
the
cave?”
Everybody
was.
Bundles
of
candles
were
procured,
and
straightway
there
was
a
general
scamper
up
the
hill.
The
mouth
of
the
cave
was
up
the
hillside—an
opening
shaped
like
a
letter
A.
Its
massive
oaken
door
stood
unbarred.
Within
was
a
small
chamber,
chilly
as
an
icehouse,
and
walled
by
Nature
with
solid
limestone
that
was
dewy
with
a
cold
sweat.
It
was
romantic
and
mysterious
to
stand
here
in
the
deep
gloom
and
look
out
upon
the
green
valley
shining
in
the
sun.
But
the
impressiveness
of
the
situation
quickly
wore
off,
and
the
romping
began
again.
The
moment
a
candle
was
lighted
there
was
a
general
rush
upon
the
owner
of
it;
a
struggle
and
a
gallant
defence
followed,
but
the
candle
was
soon
knocked
down
or
blown
out,
and
then
there
was
a
glad
clamor
of
laughter
and
a
new
chase.
But
all
things
have
an
end.
By-and-by
the
procession
went
filing
down
the
steep
descent
of
the
main
avenue,
the
flickering
rank
of
lights
dimly
revealing
the
lofty
walls
of
rock
almost
to
their
point
of
junction
sixty
feet
overhead.
This
main
avenue
was
not
more
than
eight
or
ten
feet
wide.
Every
few
steps
other
lofty
and
still
narrower
crevices
branched
from
it
on
either
hand—for
McDougal’s
cave
was
but
a
vast
labyrinth
of
crooked
aisles
that
ran
into
each
other
and
out
again
and
led
nowhere.
It
was
said
that
one
might
wander
days
and
nights
together
through
its
intricate
tangle
of
rifts
and
chasms,
and
never
find
the
end
of
the
cave;
and
that
he
might
go
down,
and
down,
and
still
down,
into
the
earth,
and
it
was
just
the
same—labyrinth
under
labyrinth,
and
no
end
to
any
of
them.
No
man
“knew”
the
cave.
That
was
an
impossible
thing.
Most
of
the
young
men
knew
a
portion
of
it,
and
it
was
not
customary
to
venture
much
beyond
this
known
portion.
Tom
Sawyer
knew
as
much
of
the
cave
as
any
one.
The
procession
moved
along
the
main
avenue
some
three-quarters
of
a
mile,
and
then
groups
and
couples
began
to
slip
aside
into
branch
avenues,
fly
along
the
dismal
corridors,
and
take
each
other
by
surprise
at
points
where
the
corridors
joined
again.
Parties
were
able
to
elude
each
other
for
the
space
of
half
an
hour
without
going
beyond
the
“known”
ground.
By-and-by,
one
group
after
another
came
straggling
back
to
the
mouth
of
the
cave,
panting,
hilarious,
smeared
from
head
to
foot
with
tallow
drippings,
daubed
with
clay,
and
entirely
delighted
with
the
success
of
the
day.
Then
they
were
astonished
to
find
that
they
had
been
taking
no
note
of
time
and
that
night
was
about
at
hand.
The
clanging
bell
had
been
calling
for
half
an
hour.
However,
this
sort
of
close
to
the
day’s
adventures
was
romantic
and
therefore
satisfactory.
When
the
ferryboat
with
her
wild
freight
pushed
into
the
stream,
nobody
cared
sixpence
for
the
wasted
time
but
the
captain
of
the
craft.
Huck
was
already
upon
his
watch
when
the
ferryboat’s
lights
went
glinting
past
the
wharf.
He
heard
no
noise
on
board,
for
the
young
people
were
as
subdued
and
still
as
people
usually
are
who
are
nearly
tired
to
death.
He
wondered
what
boat
it
was,
and
why
she
did
not
stop
at
the
wharf—and
then
he
dropped
her
out
of
his
mind
and
put
his
attention
upon
his
business.
The
night
was
growing
cloudy
and
dark.
Ten
o’clock
came,
and
the
noise
of
vehicles
ceased,
scattered
lights
began
to
wink
out,
all
straggling
foot-passengers
disappeared,
the
village
betook
itself
to
its
slumbers
and
left
the
small
watcher
alone
with
the
silence
and
the
ghosts.
Eleven
o’clock
came,
and
the
tavern
lights
were
put
out;
darkness
everywhere,
now.
Huck
waited
what
seemed
a
weary
long
time,
but
nothing
happened.
His
faith
was
weakening.
Was
there
any
use?
Was
there
really
any
use?
Why
not
give
it
up
and
turn
in?
A
noise
fell
upon
his
ear.
He
was
all
attention
in
an
instant.
The
alley
door
closed
softly.
He
sprang
to
the
corner
of
the
brick
store.
The
next
moment
two
men
brushed
by
him,
and
one
seemed
to
have
something
under
his
arm.
It
must
be
that
box!
So
they
were
going
to
remove
the
treasure.
Why
call
Tom
now?
It
would
be
absurd—the
men
would
get
away
with
the
box
and
never
be
found
again.
No,
he
would
stick
to
their
wake
and
follow
them;
he
would
trust
to
the
darkness
for
security
from
discovery.
So
communing
with
himself,
Huck
stepped
out
and
glided
along
behind
the
men,
cat-like,
with
bare
feet,
allowing
them
to
keep
just
far
enough
ahead
not
to
be
invisible.
They
moved
up
the
river
street
three
blocks,
then
turned
to
the
left
up
a
crossstreet.
They
went
straight
ahead,
then,
until
they
came
to
the
path
that
led
up
Cardiff
Hill;
this
they
took.
They
passed
by
the
old
Welshman’s
house,
halfway
up
the
hill,
without
hesitating,
and
still
climbed
upward.
Good,
thought
Huck,
they
will
bury
it
in
the
old
quarry.
But
they
never
stopped
at
the
quarry.
They
passed
on,
up
the
summit.
They
plunged
into
the
narrow
path
between
the
tall
sumach
bushes,
and
were
at
once
hidden
in
the
gloom.
Huck
closed
up
and
shortened
his
distance,
now,
for
they
would
never
be
able
to
see
him.
He
trotted
along
awhile;
then
slackened
his
pace,
fearing
he
was
gaining
too
fast;
moved
on
a
piece,
then
stopped
altogether;
listened;
no
sound;
none,
save
that
he
seemed
to
hear
the
beating
of
his
own
heart.
The
hooting
of
an
owl
came
over
the
hill—ominous
sound!
But
no
footsteps.
Heavens,
was
everything
lost!
He
was
about
to
spring
with
winged
feet,
when
a
man
cleared
his
throat
not
four
feet
from
him!
Huck’s
heart
shot
into
his
throat,
but
he
swallowed
it
again;
and
then
he
stood
there
shaking
as
if
a
dozen
agues
had
taken
charge
of
him
at
once,
and
so
weak
that
he
thought
he
must
surely
fall
to
the
ground.
He
knew
where
he
was.
He
knew
he
was
within
five
steps
of
the
stile
leading
into
Widow
Douglas’
grounds.
Very
well,
he
thought,
let
them
bury
it
there;
it
won’t
be
hard
to
find.
Now
there
was
a
voice—a
very
low
voice—Injun
Joe’s:
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — C1 Inglés | Cuentana