{"id":"01KG2TSCMFRTRYR8HD4JDYNT4Y","cid":"bafkreihfsjdeq4al4vammus6wmjojeozgimns36lxx3uv3j4ayjf2ycf3a","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":6276,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:29.708Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG2T4RHC4E1XKJ12BJRXE8E8","start_line":6155,"text":"CHAPTER XXV\r\n\r\n\r\nThere comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy’s life when he has\r\na raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire\r\nsuddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper,\r\nbut failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing.\r\nPresently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would\r\nanswer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him\r\nconfidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand\r\nin any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital,\r\nfor he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is\r\nnot money. “Where’ll we dig?” said Huck.\r\n\r\n“Oh, most anywhere.”\r\n\r\n“Why, is it hid all around?”\r\n\r\n“No, indeed it ain’t. It’s hid in mighty particular places,\r\nHuck—sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of\r\na limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but\r\nmostly under the floor in ha’nted houses.”\r\n\r\n“Who hides it?”\r\n\r\n“Why, robbers, of course—who’d you reckon? Sunday-school\r\nsup’rintendents?”\r\n\r\n“I don’t know. If ’twas mine I wouldn’t hide it; I’d spend it and have a\r\ngood time.”\r\n\r\n“So would I. But robbers don’t do that way. They always hide it and\r\nleave it there.”\r\n\r\n“Don’t they come after it any more?”\r\n\r\n“No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else\r\nthey die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and\r\nby somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks—a\r\npaper that’s got to be ciphered over about a week because it’s mostly\r\nsigns and hy’roglyphics.”\r\n\r\n“Hyro—which?”\r\n\r\n“Hy’roglyphics—pictures and things, you know, that don’t seem to mean\r\nanything.”\r\n\r\n“Have you got one of them papers, Tom?”\r\n\r\n“No.”\r\n\r\n“Well then, how you going to find the marks?”\r\n\r\n“I don’t want any marks. They always bury it under a ha’nted house or on\r\nan island, or under a dead tree that’s got one limb sticking out. Well,\r\nwe’ve tried Jackson’s Island a little, and we can try it again some\r\ntime; and there’s the old ha’nted house up the Still-House branch, and\r\nthere’s lots of dead-limb trees—dead loads of ’em.”\r\n\r\n“Is it under all of them?”\r\n\r\n“How you talk! No!”\r\n\r\n“Then how you going to know which one to go for?”\r\n\r\n“Go for all of ’em!”\r\n\r\n“Why, Tom, it’ll take all summer.”\r\n\r\n“Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars\r\nin it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di’monds. How’s\r\nthat?”\r\n\r\nHuck’s eyes glowed.\r\n\r\n“That’s bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred\r\ndollars and I don’t want no di’monds.”\r\n\r\n“All right. But I bet you I ain’t going to throw off on di’monds. Some\r\nof ’em’s worth twenty dollars apiece—there ain’t any, hardly, but’s\r\nworth six bits or a dollar.”\r\n\r\n“No! Is that so?”\r\n\r\n“Cert’nly—anybody’ll tell you so. Hain’t you ever seen one, Huck?”\r\n\r\n“Not as I remember.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, kings have slathers of them.”\r\n\r\n“Well, I don’ know no kings, Tom.”\r\n\r\n“I reckon you don’t. But if you was to go to Europe you’d see a raft of\r\n’em hopping around.”\r\n\r\n“Do they hop?”\r\n\r\n“Hop?—your granny! No!”\r\n\r\n“Well, what did you say they did, for?”\r\n\r\n“Shucks, I only meant you’d _see_ ’em—not hopping, of course—what do\r\nthey want to hop for?—but I mean you’d just see ’em—scattered around,\r\nyou know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard.”\r\n\r\n“Richard? What’s his other name?”\r\n\r\n“He didn’t have any other name. Kings don’t have any but a given name.”\r\n\r\n“No?”\r\n\r\n“But they don’t.”\r\n\r\n“Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don’t want to be a king\r\nand have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say—where you going\r\nto dig first?”\r\n\r\n“Well, I don’t know. S’pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the\r\nhill t’other side of Still-House branch?”\r\n\r\n“I’m agreed.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG2TS8QNT986J63WC5PE5WGN","peer_label":"CHAPTER XXV","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG2T4RHC4E1XKJ12BJRXE8E8","peer_label":"tom_sawyer.txt","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG2T49K0H5GDRB0G4YDTPG8H","peer_label":"Test Collection","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG2TSCN15979Z65BBWJJF474","peer_label":"Chunk 2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:30.343Z","ts":"2026-01-28T17:35:31.180Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}