He did not venture again until he had found it,and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest.
They gradually wandered apart,dropped into the“dumps,”and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun.
Tom found himself writing“BECKY”in the sand with his big toe;he scratched it out,and was angry with himself for his weakness.
But he wrote it again,nevertheless;he could not help it.He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them.
But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection.He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it.The tears lay very near the surface.Huck was melancholy,too.Tom was downhearted,but tried hard not to show it.He had a secret which he was not ready to tell,yet,but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon,he would have to bring it out.He said,with a great show of cheerfulness:
“I bet there's been pirates on this island before,boys.We'll explore it again.They've hid treasures here somewhere.How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver—hey?”
But it roused only a faint enthusiasm,which faded out,with no reply.Tom tried one or two other seductions;but they failed,too.It was discouraging work.Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy.Finally he said:
“Oh,boys,let's give it up.I want to go home.It's so lonesome.”
“Oh,no,Joe,you'll feel better by and by,”said Tom.“Just think of the fishing that's here.”
“I don't care for fishing.I want to go home.”
“But,Joe,there ain't such another swimming place anywhere.”
“Swimming's no good,I don't seem to care for it,somehow,when there ain't anybody to say I shan't go in.I mean to go home.”
“Oh,shucks!Baby!You want to see your mother,I reckon.”
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