Then they began to lay their plans.Joe was for being a hermit,and living on crusts in a remote cave,and dying,sometime,of cold and want and grief;but after listening to Tom,he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime,and so he consented to be a pirate.
Three miles below St.Petersburg,at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide,there was a long,narrow,wooded island,with a shallow bar at the head of it,and this offered well as a rendezvous.It was not inhabited;it lay far over toward the further shore,abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest.So Jackson's Island was chosen.
Who were to be the subjects of their piracies,was a matter that did not occur to them.Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn,and he joined them promptly,for all careers were one to him;he was indifferent.They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the riverbank two miles above the village at the favorite hour—which was midnight.
There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture.
Each would bring hooks and lines,and such provisions as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way— as became outlaws.And before the afternoon was done,they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would“hear something.”
All who got this vague hint were cautioned to“be mum and wait.”
About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles,and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting place.It was starlight,and very still.
The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest.Tom listened a moment,but no sound disturbed the quiet.
Then he gave a low,distinct whistle.It was answered from under the bluff.Tom whistled twice more;these signals were answered in the same way.Then a guarded voice said:
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