through the texas hall we see a light! and all in the same second we seemed to hear low voices in yonder!
Jim whispered and said he was feeling powerful sick, and told me to come along. I says, all right; and was going to start for the raft; but just then I heard a voice wail out and say:
"Oh, please don't boys: I swear I won't ever tell!"
Another voice said, pretty loud:
"It's a lie, Jim Turner. You've acted this way before. You always want more’n your share of the track, and you've always got it, too, because you've swore 't if you didn't you'd tell. But this time you've said it jest one time too many. You're the meanest, treacherousest hound in this country."
By this time Jim was gone for the raft. I was just a-biling with curiosity; and I says to myself, Tom Sawyer wouldn't back out now, and so I won't either; I'm agoing to see what's going on here. So I dropped on my hands and knees, in the little passage, and crept aft in the dark, till there warn't but about one stateroom betwixt me and the cross-ball of the texas. Then, in there I see a man stretched on the floor and tied hand and foot, and two men standing over him, and one of them bad a dim lantern in his hand, and the other one had a pistol. This one kept pointing the pistol at the man's head on the floor and saying—
"I'd like to! And I orter, too, a mean skunk!"
The man on the floor would shrivel up, and say: "Oh, please don't, Bill–I hain't ever goin' to tell."
And every time be said that, the man with the lantern would laugh, and say:
"'Deed you ain't! You never said no truer 'n that, you bet you." And once he said: "Hear him beg! and yit if we hadn't got the best of him and tied him, he'd a killed as both. And what for? Jist for noth'n. Jist because we stood
