All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak
vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not
a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful,
unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he
wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle.
It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched
his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked
elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their
mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly
spectacle before them.
"Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave
robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the
drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is
Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid
face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle,
and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!"
"Who? Who?" from twenty voices.