The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knotholes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear.

“They’ve stopped.⁠ ⁠… No⁠—coming.⁠ ⁠… Here they are. Don’t whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!”

Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: “There’s the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that’s been about town once or twice lately⁠—never saw t’other man before.”

“T’other” was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, “t’other” was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded:

“No,” said he, “I’ve thought it all over, and I don’t like it. It’s dangerous.”