{"id":"01KG16V4D81AYYQTV8ZNQ3EBSF","cid":"bafkreibalmcvzbt6dhglb6mtnkpxyg4dq5djxbhlmivi5lcbgrk3efrnmu","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":7273,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T02:27:40.839Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG0K71QZ8KK7RGEGSNTB5534","start_line":7214,"text":"the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking\r\nno note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had\r\nbeen calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day’s\r\nadventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat\r\nwith her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for\r\nthe wasted time but the captain of the craft.\r\n\r\nHuck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat’s lights went\r\nglinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young\r\npeople were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly\r\ntired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not\r\nstop at the wharf—and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his\r\nattention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten\r\no’clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began\r\nto wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village\r\nbetook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the\r\nsilence and the ghosts. Eleven o’clock came, and the tavern lights were\r\nput out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long\r\ntime, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use?\r\nWas there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in?\r\n\r\nA noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley\r\ndoor closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next\r\nmoment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under\r\nhis arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure.\r\nWhy call Tom now? It would be absurd—the men would get away with the box\r\nand never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow\r\nthem; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So\r\ncommuning with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the\r\nmen, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough\r\nahead not to be invisible.\r\n\r\nThey moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up\r\na crossstreet. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the\r\npath that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old\r\nWelshman’s house, halfway up the hill, without hesitating, and still\r\nclimbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry.\r\nBut they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit.\r\nThey plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and\r\nwere at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his\r\ndistance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along\r\nawhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved\r\non a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that\r\nhe seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an\r\nowl came over the hill—ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was\r\neverything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man\r\ncleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck’s heart shot into his\r\nthroat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as\r\nif a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he\r\nthought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He\r\nknew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas’\r\ngrounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won’t be hard\r\nto find.\r\n\r\nNow there was a voice—a very low voice—Injun Joe’s:\r\n\r\n“Damn her, maybe she’s got company—there’s lights, late as it is.”\r\n\r\n“I can’t see any.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG16PT699EFQS42PAQT0E43X","peer_label":"CHAPTER XXIX","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG0K71QZ8KK7RGEGSNTB5534","peer_label":"tom_sawyer.txt","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS","peer_label":"More Classics","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG16V4CRVKJC3BSMSZH9HT58","peer_label":"Chunk 2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG16V4CGX99QNXX43SXYVHDS","peer_label":"Chunk 4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T02:27:41.233Z","ts":"2026-01-28T02:27:42.110Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}