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undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their
difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies
interested in this luckless captive.

The boys did as they had often done before-went to the cell grating and gave
Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no
guards.

His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before-it cut
deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree
when Potter said: “You’ve ben mighty good to me, boys-better’n anybody else
in this town.

And I don’t forget it, I don’t. Often I says to myself, says I, ‘I used to mend all
the boys’ kites and things, and show ‘em where the good fishin’ places was, and
befriend ‘em what I could, and now they’ve all forgot old Muff when he’s in
trouble; but Tom don’t, and Huck don’t-they don’t forget him,’ says I, ‘and I
don’t forget them.’ Well, boys, I done an awful thing-drunk and crazy at the
timethat’s the only way I account for it-and now I got to swing for it, and it’s
right.

Right, and best, too I reckon-hope so, anyway. Well, we won’t talk about that. I
don’t want to make you feel bad; you’ve befriended me. But what I want to say,
is, don’t you ever get drunk-then you won’t ever get here. Stand a little furder
west-so-that’s it; it’s a prime comfort to see faces that’s friendly when a body’s
in such a muck of trouble, and there don’t none come here but yourn. Good
friendly faces-good friendly faces. Git up on one another’s backs and let me
touch ‘em. That’s it. Shake hands-yourn’ll come through the bars, but mine’s too
big. Little hands, and weak-but they’ve helped Muff Potter a power, and they’d
help him more if they could.” Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that
night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the
court room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself
to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each
other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination
always brought them back presently.

Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the courtroom, but
invariably heard distressing news-the toils were closing more and more
relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was
to the effect that Injun Joe’s evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there
was not the slightest question as to what the jury’s verdict would be.

Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a
tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the
village flocked to the courthouse the next morning, for this was to be the great
day.

Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long
wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and
haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated
where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe,