“Now’s our chance—come!”
Huck said:
“I can’t—I’d die if they was to wake.”
Tom urged—Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting.
Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around—smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees—stirred him up with his foot and said:
“Here! You’re a watchman, ain’t you! All right, though—nothing’s happened.”
“My! have I been asleep?”
“Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What’ll we do with what little swag we’ve got left?”
“I don’t know—leave it here as we’ve always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver’s something to carry.”
“Well—all right—it won’t matter to come here once more.”
“No—but I’d say come in the night as we used to do—it’s better.”
“Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; ’tain’t in such a very good place;