{"id":"01KG2TSH17E58GGSKSQEYTYM22","cid":"bafkreih7jprhyb2aryfira7gwkiftld7t7pt35c7keio6ebcjrrf6pvnaq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3169,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:34.192Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG2T4RHC4E1XKJ12BJRXE8E8","start_line":3072,"text":"CHAPTER X\r\n\r\n\r\nThe two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with\r\nhorror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time,\r\napprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump\r\nthat started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them\r\ncatch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay\r\nnear the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give\r\nwings to their feet.\r\n\r\n“If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!” whispered\r\nTom, in short catches between breaths. “I can’t stand it much longer.”\r\n\r\nHuckleberry’s hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed\r\ntheir eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it.\r\nThey gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst\r\nthrough the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering\r\nshadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered:\r\n\r\n“Huckleberry, what do you reckon’ll come of this?”\r\n\r\n“If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging’ll come of it.”\r\n\r\n“Do you though?”\r\n\r\n“Why, I _know_ it, Tom.”\r\n\r\nTom thought a while, then he said:\r\n\r\n“Who’ll tell? We?”\r\n\r\n“What are you talking about? S’pose something happened and Injun Joe\r\n_didn’t_ hang? Why, he’d kill us some time or other, just as dead sure\r\nas we’re a laying here.”\r\n\r\n“That’s just what I was thinking to myself, Huck.”\r\n\r\n“If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he’s fool enough. He’s\r\ngenerally drunk enough.”\r\n\r\nTom said nothing—went on thinking. Presently he whispered:\r\n\r\n“Huck, Muff Potter don’t know it. How can he tell?”\r\n\r\n“What’s the reason he don’t know it?”\r\n\r\n“Because he’d just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D’you reckon\r\nhe could see anything? D’you reckon he knowed anything?”\r\n\r\n“By hokey, that’s so, Tom!”\r\n\r\n“And besides, look-a-here—maybe that whack done for _him_!”\r\n\r\n“No, ’taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and\r\nbesides, he always has. Well, when pap’s full, you might take and belt\r\nhim over the head with a church and you couldn’t phase him. He says so,\r\nhis own self. So it’s the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man\r\nwas dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono.”\r\n\r\nAfter another reflective silence, Tom said:\r\n\r\n“Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?”\r\n\r\n“Tom, we _got_ to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn’t\r\nmake any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak\r\n’bout this and they didn’t hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take\r\nand swear to one another—that’s what we got to do—swear to keep mum.”\r\n\r\n“I’m agreed. It’s the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear\r\nthat we—”\r\n\r\n“Oh no, that wouldn’t do for this. That’s good enough for little\r\nrubbishy common things—specially with gals, cuz _they_ go back on you\r\nanyway, and blab if they get in a huff—but there orter be writing ’bout\r\na big thing like this. And blood.”\r\n\r\nTom’s whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful;\r\nthe hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it.\r\nHe picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moon-light, took a\r\nlittle fragment of “red keel” out of his pocket, got the moon on\r\nhis work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow\r\ndown-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the\r\npressure on the up-strokes.\r\n\r\n  “Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and\r\n   They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell\r\n   and Rot.”\r\n\r\nHuckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom’s facility in writing, and\r\nthe sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and\r\nwas going to prick his flesh, but Tom said:\r\n\r\n“Hold on! Don’t do that. A pin’s brass. It might have verdigrease on\r\nit.”\r\n\r\n“What’s verdigrease?”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG2TRBGFH676ZTRND3V1WZN1","peer_label":"CHAPTER X","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":"01KG2TSH3AF37QTB95EZ1TM4WA","peer_label":"Chunk 2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:34.742Z","ts":"2026-01-28T17:35:35.606Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}