see if the boots was safe on that body yet. So he crope in--and
the next minute out he come again with his eyes bulging he was so
excited, and says:

"Huck, it's gone!"

I WAS astonished! I says:

"Tom, you don't mean it."

"It's gone, sure. There ain't a sign of it. The ground is trampled some,
but if there was any blood it's all washed away by the storm, for it's
all puddles and slush in there."

At last I give in, and went and took a look myself; and it was just as
Tom said--there wasn't a sign of a corpse.

"Dern it," I says, "the di'monds is gone. Don't you reckon the thieves
slunk back and lugged him off, Tom?"

"Looks like it. It just does. Now where'd they hide him, do you reckon?"

"I don't know," I says, disgusted, "and what's more I don't care.
They've got the boots, and that's all I cared about. He'll lay around
these woods a long time before I hunt him up."

Tom didn't feel no more intrust in him neither, only curiosity to know
what come of him; but he said we'd lay low and keep dark and it wouldn't
be long till the dogs or somebody rousted him out.

We went back home to breakfast ever so bothered and put out and
disappointed and swindled. I warn't ever so down on a corpse before.

CHAPTER VIII. TALKING WITH THE GHOST

IT warn't very cheerful at breakfast. Aunt Sally she looked old and
tired and let the children snarl and fuss at one another and didn't seem
to notice it was going on, which wasn't her usual style; me and Tom
had a plenty to think about without talking; Benny she looked like she
hadn't had much sleep, and whenever she'd lift her head a little and
steal a look towards her father you could see there was tears in her
eyes; and as for the old man, his things stayed on his plate and got
cold without him knowing they was there, I reckon, for he was thinking
and thinking all the time, and never said a word and never et a bite.

By and by when it was stillest, that nigger's head was poked in at the
door again, and he said his Marse Brace was getting powerful uneasy
about Marse Jubiter, which hadn't come home yet, and would Marse Silas
please--He was looking at Uncle Silas, and he stopped there, like the
rest of his words was froze; for Uncle Silas he rose up shaky and
steadied himself leaning his fingers on the table, and he was panting,
and his eyes was set on the nigger, and he kept swallowing, and put his
other hand up to his throat a couple of times, and at last he got his