Els dos minyons anaven, corre que correràs, cap al poblet, muts d'horror. De tant en tant, aprensius, daven una llambregada cap endarrera, damunt llurs espatlles, com si temessin que hom els pogués seguir. Cada sacot que es dreçava en llur via semblava un home i un enemic, i els feia retenir l'alè; i, en córrer pel voltant d'algunes casetes escampades pròximes al poblet, el lladrar dels cans de vetlla incorporats semblava donar ales a llurs peus.
THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet.
-Només que poguéssim arribar a la vella adoberia abans d'esfondrar-nos!- murmurà Tom, en breus moments, dividits pel respir. -No puc comportar-ho gaire estona més.
"If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer."
Els forts panteixos de Huckleberry eren la seva única resposta, i els minyons fixaven llurs ulls a la fita de llurs esperances, i maldaven durament per atènyer-la. Avançaren decididament sobre ella, i a la fi, pit contra pit, es llançaren a través de la porta oberta, i caigueren, agraïts i aclaparats, dins les ombres protectores de més endins. Aviat llurs polsos s'apaivagaren, i Tom murmurà:
Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered:
-Huckleberry: què compteu que en pervindrà, d'això?
"Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?"
-Si el doctor Robinson fina, jo diria que en pervindrà una forca plantada.
"If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it."
-Ho creieu, tanmateix?
"Do you though?"
-N'estic segur, Tom.
"Why, I know it, Tom."
Tom pensà una mica. Després digué:
Tom thought a while, then he said:
-Quí ho dirà? Nosaltres?
"Who'll tell? We?"
-Que us empatolleu! Suposeu que passés qualsevol cosa i Joe l'Indi no fos penjat. Ves, ens mataria una hora o altra: tan cert com ara jaiem aquí terra.
"What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe didn't hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here."
-Això és el que jo pensava per dins, Huck.
"That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck."
-Si algú en parla, que sigui Muff Potter, si és prou ximple. Generalment està prou embriagat per fer-ho.
"If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough."
Tom no digué res: continuà pensant. Al cap d'una estona zumzejà:
Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered:
-Huck, Muff Potter no ho sap. Còm podria dir-ho?
"Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?"
-Per quina raó no ho sap?
"What's the reason he don't know it?"
-Perquè precisament rebé aquella patacada mentre Joe l'Indi ho feia. Compteu que podia veure res? Compteu que sabé res?
"Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?"
-Manoi! És veritat, Tom!
"By hokey, that's so, Tom!"
-I, a més, fixeu-vos-hi: potser aquella patacada el va acabar!
"And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for him!"
-No: no és probable, Tom. Tenia beguda a dins: jo ho he pogut veure; i, a més, sempre en té. Bé, doncs: quan mon pare està xop, ja podeu apallissar-li el cap amb tota una església, que no el contorbareu. Ell mateix ho diu. Així és que igual passa a Muff Potter, és clar. Però si un home estés ben, ben serè, compto que potser aquella patacada el deixaria al siti: no ho sé.
"No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono."
Després d'un altre silenci reflexiu, Tom va dir:
After another reflective silence, Tom said:
-Huck: esteu segur que podreu posar-vos un cadenat a la boca?
"Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?"
-Tom, ens l'hem de posar. Ja ho sabeu. A aquest dimoni indi no se li'n donaria més d'ofegar-nos a nosaltres que d'ofegar un parell de gats, si xerréssim la feta i no el pengessin. Ara, Tom, escolteu: no tenim més remei que jurar-nos l'un a l'altre de posar-nos un cadenat a la boca.
"Tom, we got to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum."
-M'hi conformo, Huck. És el millor partit. Voleu, només, que ens agafem les mans i jurem que...
"I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--"
-Oh! No, no fóra escaient, per a una cosa així. Això és prou bo per a cosetes ordinàries sense cap ni centener, especialment amb les noies, perquè després us van al darrera amb un flabiol sonant, i no poden fer sinó botzinar quan es veuen en el trencacoll; però una cosa d'importància com aquesta ha de ser escrita. I amb sang.
"Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz they go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood."
Tot l'ésser de Tom aplaudí aquesta idea. El pla era recòndit, i ombrívol i paorós; l'hora, les circumstàncies, els voltants, hi harmonitzaven. Arreplegà una polida estella de pi que jeia al clar de la lluna, es tragué un petit fragment de quilla roja que duia a la butxaca, es posà a la llum de la lluna, i escritotejà aquestes ratlles, dant relleu a cada tret que queia cap avall, a base d'apretar la llengua entre les dents, i minvant la pressió en els trets que anaven cap amunt:
Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moon-light, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.]
«Huck Finn i Tom Sawyer juren posar-se un cadenat a la boca sobre això, i desitgen que puguin caure morts pel camí si mai xerren, i podrir-se.»
"Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot."
Huckleberry s'omplí d'admiració davant la facilitat de Tom en l'escriptura, i la sublimitat del seu llenguatge. Tot seguit agafà una agulla de la seva solapa, i anava a punxar-se la carn; però Tom digué:
Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said:
-Atureu-vos! No ho feu, això. Les agulles de cap són de llautó. Podria tenir verdet.
"Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it."
-Què cosa és verdet?
"What's verdigrease?"
-És una metzina. Vet aquí el que és. Empasseu-vos-en una mica: ja veureu.
"It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once--you'll see."
Així, doncs, Tom descabdellà el fil d'una de les seves agulles de cosir, i cada minyó es punxà el capciró del polze i n'espremé una gota de sang. Amb el temps, després de diverses premsades, Tom aconseguí signar amb les seves inicials, servint-se del capciró de son dit xic com a ploma. Després mostrà a Huckleberry còm havia de fer una H i una F, i el jurament ja fou perfecte. Enterraren l'estella de pi arran de la paret, amb algunes bròfegues cerimònies i encantaments, i les cadenes que els lligaven la llengua foren ja tancades amb pany i clau, i la clau llençada.
So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away.
Una figura s'arrossegà tota llisquívola, en aquell moment, per un esboranc de l'arruïnat edifici; però ells no se n'atalaiaren.
A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it.
-Tom- murmurà Huckleberry -això ens impedeix de parlar-ne mai, mai?
"Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from ever telling--always?"
-És clar que sí. Passi el que passi, el cadenat no es pot llevar. Cauríem morts en terra: no sabeu la cosa?
"Of course it does. It don't make any difference what happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't you know that?"
-Sí, em penso que ho encerteu.
"Yes, I reckon that's so."
Continuaren parlant en veu baixa per algun temps. Al cap d'una estoneta un gos féu un udol durador i llòbrec a la part de fora: a uns deu peus d'allà on es trobaven. Els minyons s'aferraren l'un a l'altre sobtadament, en una agonia d'esglai.
They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright.
-Per quín de nosaltres és?- digué, trasposat, Huckleberry.
"Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry.
-No ho sé... Sotgeu per la clivella. De pressa!
"I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!"
-No: vós, Tom!
"No, you, Tom!"
-No puc... No ho puc fer, Huck!
"I can't--I can't do it, Huck!"
-Tom, feu-ho si us plau. Ja hi torna!
"Please, Tom. There 'tis again!"
-Oh! Déu meu! Gràcies!- murmurà Tom. -Li conec la veu. És Bull Harbison*.
"Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." *
[* Si el senyor Harbison hagués posseït un esclau anomenat Bull, Tom n'hauria parlat com del «Bull de Harbison»; però un fill o un ca d'aquell senyor es deia «Bull Harbison».]
[* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."]
-Oh! Bella cosa! En bona refè, Tom, estava leri-leri de la meva fi, i hauria jugat qualsevol cosa que era un gos perdut.
"Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a stray dog."
El gos tornà a udolar. El coratge dels minyons naufragà una altra vegada.
The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more.
-Oh! Déu me val! No és pas Bull Harbison!- murmurà Huckleberry. -Mireu, Tom!
"Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "Do, Tom!"
Tom, tremolant de por, es donà, i posà l'ull a la clivella. Son zumzeig amb prou feines podia oir-se quan digué:
Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said:
-O Huck! És un GOS PERDUT!
"Oh, Huck, its a stray dog!"
-Guiteu, Tom, cuiteu! Per quí ve?
"Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?"
-Huck, deu venir per tots dos: som tots dos una mateixa cosa.
"Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together."
-O Tom! Em sembla que ens n'anem a l'òbit! I crec que no hi ha dubte d'on jo aniré a raure. He estat tan poca pena!
"Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'll go to. I been so wicked."
-Això ve de fer campanes i de fer totes les coses que a un hom li diuen que no faci. Hauria pogut ésser bo com Sid, si m'hi hagués escarrassat... Però no, no vaig escarrassar-m'hi, és clar. Tanmateix, aquesta vegada, si en surto, us dic que m'hi deixaré emparedar a l'escola del diumenge!
I Tom començà de somicar una mica.
"Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told not to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried--but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just waller in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little.
-Vós dolent!- I Huckleberry començà de somicar, també. -Diastre, Tom Sawyer, sóu un melindro, al costat del que jo sóc! O Déu meu, Déu meu, Déu meu! Voldria tenir només que la meitat de la vostra sort.
"You bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'long-side o' what I am. Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance."
Tom es sentí la gorja alliberada i murmurà:
Tom choked off and whispered:
-Mireu, Huck, mireu! S'ha girat d'esquena a nosaltres!
"Look, Hucky, look! He's got his back to us!"
Huck mirà amb el cor ple de joia.
Hucky looked, with joy in his heart.
-Oidà, vatua! Que ho havia fet abans?
"Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?"
-Sí, que ho havia fet; però jo, com un ximple, no hi havia parat esment. Això és de primera! sabeu? I ara per quí deu venir?
"Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. Now who can he mean?"
L'udol cessà. Tom es caragolà les orelles.
The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears.
-Sst! Què és això?- zumzejà.
"Sh! What's that?" he whispered.
-Sona com... com porcs que remuguin. No... és algú que ronca, Tom.
"Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom."
-Això, és? Per on rau, Huck?
"That is it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?"
-Em penso que és allà baix, a l'altre cap. Ho sembla, talment. Mon pare solia dormir allí, de vegades, vora els porcs; però, Déu me vall, el món s'ensorra, quan ell ronca. A més, em penso que no ha tornat a venir al poble cap més vegada.
"I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when he snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more."
L'esperit aventurer brollà de l'ànima dels minyons altra vegada.
The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more.
-Huck, gosaríeu venir, si jo menava?
"Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?"
-No m'acaba de fer goig, Tom. Suposeu-vos que sigui Joe l'Indi!
"I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!"
Tom es descoratjà. Però al cap de poc la temptació s'aixecà tota poderosa de bell nou, i els minyons convingueren d'intentar-ho, amb el ben entès que fugirien a més córrer si els roncs paraven. Així és que avançaren de puntetes i llisquívolament, l'un darrera l'altre. Quan hagueren arribat a cinc passes del roncaire, Tom petjà una branqueta, que es petà amb un fort espetec. L'home gemegà, es retorcé una mica, i sa cara restà sota la llum de la lluna. Era Muff Potter. Els cors dels minyons havien romàs aturats, i llurs cossos també, mentre l'home es movia; però ara llurs temences s'esvaïren. Lliscaren cap enfora, travessant el malmenat aixopluc, i s'aturaren a una petita distància, per a bescanviar una paraula de comiat. I altra vegada aquell udol tètric i durador muntà en l'aire de la nit! Es giraren i veieren el gos singular que romania a tret d'on jeia Potter, encarant-se amb Potter, tot assenyalant el cel amb el nas.
Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tip-toed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and facing Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward.
-Oh! Manoi! Ve per ell!- exclamaren els dos nois, fent un bisbe.
"Oh, geeminy, it's him!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath.
-Escolteu, Tom: diuen que un gos esgarriat va comparèixer udolant al volt de la casa de Johnny Miller, per allà a la mitja nit, fa unes dues setmanes; i un enganyapastors entrà i s'aturà a la barana i cantà, el mateix vespre; i encara no s'hi ha mort ningú.
"Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet."
-Sí, ja ho sé, i suposeu que no mori ningú. No caigué Gràcia Miller al foc de la llar, cremant-se de mala manera, el mateix dissabte següent?
"Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?"
-Sí, però no ha mort. I, més encara, ha anat millorant.
"Yes, but she ain't dead. And what's more, she's getting better, too."
-Molt bé: espereu, i ja veurem. Està ben llesta: és tan ressegur com que Muff Potter està ben llest. Això és el que diuen els negres, i ells ho saben tot, en aquest ram de coses, Huck.
"All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck."
Després se separaren, tot rumiant. Quan Tom lliscà finestra endins de l'alcova, la nit era gairebé passada. Es despullà amb excessiva cautela, i s'adormí, tot congratulant-se que ningú no s'hagués adonat de la seva escapada. No s'havia dat compte que Sid, el gentil roncaire, estava despert, i n'havia estat per espai d'una hora.
Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour.
Quan Tom obrí els ulls, Sid s'havia vestit i ja no hi era. En la llum hi havia un posat d'ésser tard. Això l'astorà. Per què no havia estat cridat i perseguit fins que es llevés, com era el costum? Aquesta idea l'omplia de mals averanys. Al cap de cinc minuts estava vestit i escales avall, tot sentint-se capolat i ensopit. La família encara era a taula, però havien acabat el desdejuni. No sonà cap paraula de rebuf; però hi havia esguards que es desviaven, i hi havia un silenci i un aire de calamitat que féu passar una esgarrifança pel cor del culpable. S'assegué i féu per manera de semblar joiós, però era una tasca endiastrada. No va aconseguir un somriure ni una resposta: així és que recaigué en el silenci i deixà que son cor anés capbussant-se fins a les darreres fondàries.
When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths.
Després del desdejuni, la seva tia el prengué de banda, i Tom gairebé resplendí amb l'esperança que li darien una pallissa; però no fou així. La seva tia es posà a plorar, i vinga preguntar-li còm podia malmetre d'aquesta manera son cor de velleta; i finalment li digué que continués i s'arruïnés, i que, amb tants de disgustos, portés sos cabells grisos a la tomba, perquè ja era inútil de fer cap més provatura. Això era pitjor que no pas mil fuetades, i el cor de Tom romangué ara més capolat que el seu cos. Plorà, demanà perdó, prometé d'esmenar-se una i altra vegada, i aleshores se li permeté de pendre comiat, tot i adonant-se ell que no havia guanyat sinó un perdó imperfecte i no havia inspirat sinó una feble confiança.
After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence.
Abandonà la presència sobirana, massa atuït fins per a sentir-se venjatiu envers Sid: així és que la cuitosa retirada d'aquest per la porta del darrera fou innecessària. Es traginà a sí mateix cap a l'escola, ombrívol i trist, i rebé la seva pallissa al costat de Joe Harper per haver fet campana el dia abans, amb el posat d'una persona que tenia el cor atrafegat amb dolors més feixugues i era del tot indiferent a les bagatel·les. Després es transportà al seu seient, reposà el colze damunt el pupitre i les barres dins les seves mans, i contemplà la paret amb l'esguard de pedra d'aquell sofriment que ha arribat al límit i no pot passar més enllà. Son colze apretava alguna substància dura. Al cap d'una llarga estona canvià lentament i tristament la seva posició, i agafà aquell objecte amb un sospir. Estava embolicat amb paper. El desembolicà. Seguí un llarg, dilatat, colossal sospir, i el cor se li trencà. Era el seu pomet de llautó!
He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob!
Aquesta darrera gota va fer sobreeixir el vas.
This final feather broke the camel's back.