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AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred-and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court.

It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately.

Tom could not get away from it.

Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip.

It kept him in a cold shiver all the time.

He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him.

It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer.

Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet.

"Huck, have you ever told anybody about-that?"

"'Bout what?"

"You know what."

"Oh-'course I haven't."

"Never a word?"

"Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?"

"Well, I was afeard."

"Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. You know that."

Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause:

"Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?"

"Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that halfbreed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way."

"Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer."

"I'm agreed."

So they swore again with dread solemnities.

"What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it."

"Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers."

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