{"id":"01KG16V861XM9E7NF6HFP435VQ","cid":"bafkreidawnwyk4c3hglsy5q4av6vnxddhtbpa72hqafpbn3i6s6ecogwg4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":7592,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T02:27:44.719Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG0K71QZ8KK7RGEGSNTB5534","start_line":7516,"text":"marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of—\r\n\r\n“Of _what_?”\r\n\r\nIf the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more\r\nstunning suddenness from Huck’s blanched lips. His eyes were staring\r\nwide, now, and his breath suspended—waiting for the answer. The Welshman\r\nstarted—stared in return—three seconds—five seconds—ten—then replied:\r\n\r\n“Of burglar’s tools. Why, what’s the _matter_ with you?”\r\n\r\nHuck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The\r\nWelshman eyed him gravely, curiously—and presently said:\r\n\r\n“Yes, burglar’s tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what\r\ndid give you that turn? What were _you_ expecting we’d found?”\r\n\r\nHuck was in a close place—the inquiring eye was upon him—he would have\r\ngiven anything for material for a plausible answer—nothing suggested\r\nitself—the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper—a senseless\r\nreply offered—there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered\r\nit—feebly:\r\n\r\n“Sunday-school books, maybe.”\r\n\r\nPoor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and\r\njoyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and\r\nended by saying that such a laugh was money in a man’s pocket, because\r\nit cut down the doctor’s bill like everything. Then he added:\r\n\r\n“Poor old chap, you’re white and jaded—you ain’t well a bit—no wonder\r\nyou’re a little flighty and off your balance. But you’ll come out of it.\r\nRest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope.”\r\n\r\nHuck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such\r\na suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel\r\nbrought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the\r\ntalk at the widow’s stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure,\r\nhowever—he had not known that it wasn’t—and so the suggestion of a\r\ncaptured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole\r\nhe felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all\r\nquestion that that bundle was not _the_ bundle, and so his mind was\r\nat rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be\r\ndrifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still\r\nin No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and\r\nTom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of\r\ninterruption.\r\n\r\nJust as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck\r\njumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even\r\nremotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and\r\ngentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of\r\ncitizens were climbing up the hill—to stare at the stile. So the news\r\nhad spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the\r\nvisitors. The widow’s gratitude for her preservation was outspoken.\r\n\r\n“Don’t say a word about it, madam. There’s another that you’re more\r\nbeholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don’t allow me\r\nto tell his name. We wouldn’t have been there but for him.”\r\n\r\nOf course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the\r\nmain matter—but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his\r\nvisitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he\r\nrefused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the\r\nwidow said:\r\n\r\n“I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that\r\nnoise. Why didn’t you come and wake me?”\r\n\r\n“We judged it warn’t worth while. Those fellows warn’t likely to come\r\nagain—they hadn’t any tools left to work with, and what was the use of\r\nwaking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard\r\nat your house all the rest of the night. They’ve just come back.”\r\n\r\nMore visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple\r\nof hours more.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG16PT63ZYKAH4KA6ZZMZB5E","peer_label":"CHAPTER XXX","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":"01KG16V8622X99BNWBCCM00AD3","peer_label":"Chunk 2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG16V85VN8E8AP567VGAGECR","peer_label":"Chunk 4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T02:27:45.337Z","ts":"2026-01-28T02:27:46.263Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}