{"id":"01KG2TSH7CA0SY5Z3MW4QBW7CV","cid":"bafkreif5thk56hdftsxhvbw4qd4nz5sizldodacxdmt7lm3br3sl35org4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":8022,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:34.227Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 4","source_file":"01KG2T4RHC4E1XKJ12BJRXE8E8","start_line":7938,"text":"“Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there’s water to drink.\r\nThat little piece is our last candle!”\r\n\r\nBecky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort\r\nher, but with little effect. At length Becky said:\r\n\r\n“Tom!”\r\n\r\n“Well, Becky?”\r\n\r\n“They’ll miss us and hunt for us!”\r\n\r\n“Yes, they will! Certainly they will!”\r\n\r\n“Maybe they’re hunting for us now, Tom.”\r\n\r\n“Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are.”\r\n\r\n“When would they miss us, Tom?”\r\n\r\n“When they get back to the boat, I reckon.”\r\n\r\n“Tom, it might be dark then—would they notice we hadn’t come?”\r\n\r\n“I don’t know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they\r\ngot home.”\r\n\r\nA frightened look in Becky’s face brought Tom to his senses and he saw\r\nthat he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night!\r\nThe children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of\r\ngrief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers\r\nalso—that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher\r\ndiscovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper’s.\r\n\r\nThe children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it\r\nmelt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone\r\nat last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of\r\nsmoke, linger at its top a moment, and then—the horror of utter darkness\r\nreigned!\r\n\r\nHow long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that\r\nshe was crying in Tom’s arms, neither could tell. All that they knew\r\nwas, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of\r\na dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said\r\nit might be Sunday, now—maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but\r\nher sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that\r\nthey must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going\r\non. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in\r\nthe darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no\r\nmore.\r\n\r\nThe hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A\r\nportion of Tom’s half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But\r\nthey seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted\r\ndesire.\r\n\r\nBy-and-by Tom said:\r\n\r\n“SH! Did you hear that?”\r\n\r\nBoth held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the\r\nfaintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by\r\nthe hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently\r\nhe listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little\r\nnearer.\r\n\r\n“It’s them!” said Tom; “they’re coming! Come along, Becky—we’re all\r\nright now!”\r\n\r\nThe joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow,\r\nhowever, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded\r\nagainst. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three\r\nfeet deep, it might be a hundred—there was no passing it at any rate.\r\nTom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No\r\nbottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They\r\nlistened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant!\r\na moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking\r\nmisery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He\r\ntalked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no\r\nsounds came again.\r\n\r\nThe children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged\r\non; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed\r\nit must be Tuesday by this time.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 4"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG2TRB7D45GH13DNQ8SG4B62","peer_label":"CHAPTER XXXI","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":"01KG2TSHF3DMRMGQQ0V66E3Y1V","peer_label":"Chunk 3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG2TSH4HPVABB3YRM05R9VSZ","peer_label":"Chunk 5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T17:35:34.730Z","ts":"2026-01-28T17:35:36.054Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}