Haunted House Treasure Discovery

On a Saturday afternoon shortly after noon, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn arrived at the dead tree where they had hidden their tools, then shouldered their pick and shovel and made their way to the haunted house. The place was utterly isolated, its fences long gone, rank weeds smothering the doorsteps, the chimney crumbled, the window-sashes vacant, and a corner of the roof caved in. The dead silence under the baking sun, the loneliness and desolation, struck the boys with such fear that they hesitated at the threshold. They crept to the door, took a trembling peep, and saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, with an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase, and ragged, abandoned cobwebs everywhere. They entered softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert, muscles tense for instant retreat. After a little while familiarity modified their fears, and they gave the place a critical examination, admiring their own boldness. They then dared each other to go upstairs, and though it felt like cutting off retreat, they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Upstairs they found the same signs of decay and a closet that promised mystery but held nothing. Their courage now well in hand, they were about to go down and begin work when Tom hissed a warning. They heard voices approaching, stretched themselves on the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting in a misery of fear.

The Intruders and the Unmasking

Two men entered. One was a ragged, unkempt creature with nothing pleasant in his face; the other was wrapped in a serape, with bushy white whiskers, long white hair flowing from under a sombrero, and green goggles — the deaf and dumb Spaniard who had been about town once or twice. The ragged man was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall. His manner became less guarded as he spoke, and he said he did not like the plan they were discussing because it was dangerous. To the vast surprise of the hidden boys, the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard grunted a reply: "Dangerous! Milksop!" The voice made the boys gasp and quake — it was Injun Joe's. Joe argued that the job they had done up the river had come to nothing, and that coming to the haunted house in daytime was more dangerous than anything else. His companion replied that there was no other handy place after "that fool of a job," and that he had wanted to leave the shanty yesterday but could not stir out because of "those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." The boys, quaking, realized how lucky they had been to remember it was Friday and wait a day. The two men got out food and made a luncheon. After a long, thoughtful silence, Injun Joe told his companion to go back up the river and wait until he heard from him; he would take the chances on dropping into town once more for a look, then they would do the "dangerous" job and leg it together for Texas. Both men fell to yawning, and Joe curled down in the weeds to sleep, ordering his comrade to watch. The watcher soon began to nod, and both men snored.

The Discovery of the Treasure

Tom whispered that now was their chance, but Huck held back, terrified that they would be caught if the men woke. Tom rose slowly and started alone, but the first step wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright and made no second attempt. The boys lay counting the dragging moments until the sun began to set. One snore ceased; Injun Joe sat up, stared around, smiled grimly at his comrade, and stirred him with his foot. They discussed what to do with the little swag they had left — six hundred and fifty dollars in silver. Joe's comrade walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearthstones, and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Joe, then passed the bag to Joe, who was on his knees in a corner digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears; with gloating eyes they watched every movement. Joe's knife struck something — a half-rotten plank, then a box. He reached his hand in and drew it out: "Man, it's money!" The coins were gold. Joe's comrade ran and brought the boys' own pick and shovel, which they had left in the corner. Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered to himself, and began to use it. The box was soon unearthed — not very large, iron-bound, and once very strong. The men contemplated the treasure in blissful silence. Joe's comrade said, "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here." Joe agreed, and the stranger observed that it had always been said that Murrel's gang used to be around there one summer. Joe said, "Now you won't need to do that job." But the half-breed frowned: "'Tain't robbery altogether — it's revenge!" He said he would need help with it, and then they would go to Texas.

The Loss of the Treasure

Joe's comrade asked what they should do with the box — bury it again. Joe agreed, but then suddenly noticed the pick: "That pick had fresh earth on it!" The boys were sick with terror. Joe realized that someone had brought the tools there and might be watching. He decided they would not bury the treasure again but take it to his den — "Number Two — under the cross." Joe got up and went from window to window, cautiously peeping out. He wondered if the owners of the tools could be upstairs, and put his hand on his knife. The boys' breath forsook them as Joe turned toward the stairway. They thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs — then there was a crash of rotten timbers, and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. His comrade said that if anyone was up there, let them stay; it would be dark in fifteen minutes, and whoever had thrown the tools in had probably taken them for ghosts and was running yet. Joe grumbled but agreed that they should economize the remaining daylight to get ready to leave. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs. They did not follow. They were too absorbed in hating themselves for having brought the pick and shovel there, for without that clue Injun Joe would have hidden the silver with the gold and they could have recovered it later. Bitter, bitter luck.