and the ghost over and over again, and got so creepy and crawly we couldn’t get sleepy nohow and noway. 

 By and by, when it was away late in the night and all the sounds was late sounds and solemn, Tom nudged me and whispers to me to look, and I done it, and there we see a man poking around in the yard like he didn’t know just what he wanted to do, but it was pretty dim and we couldn’t see him good. Then he started for the stile, and as he went over it the moon came out strong, and he had a long-handled shovel over his shoulder, and we see the white patch on the old work-gown. So Tom says: 

 “He’s a-walking in his sleep. I wish we was allowed to follow him and see where he’s going to. There, he’s turned down by the tobacker-field. Out of sight now. It’s a dreadful pity he can’t rest no better.” 

 We waited a long time, but he didn’t come back any more, or if he did he come around the other way; so at last we was tuckered out and went to sleep and had nightmares, a million of them. But before dawn we was awake again, because meantime a storm had come up and been raging, and the thunder and lightning was awful, and the wind was a-thrashing the trees around, and the rain was driving down in slanting sheets, and the gullies was running rivers. Tom says: 

 “Looky here, Huck, I’ll tell you one thing that’s mighty curious. Up to the time we went out last night the family hadn’t heard about Jake Dunlap being murdered. Now the men that chased Hal Clayton and Bud Dixon away would spread the thing around in a half an hour, and every neighbor that heard it would shin out and fly around from one farm to t’other and try to be the first to tell the news. Land, they don’t have such a big thing as that to tell twice in thirty year! Huck, it’s mighty strange; I don’t understand it.” 

 So then he was in a fidget for the rain to let up, so we could turn out and run across some of the people and see if they would say anything about it to us. And he said if they did we must be horribly surprised and shocked. 

 We was out and gone the minute the rain stopped. It was just broad day then. We loafed along up the road, and now and then met a person and stopped and said howdy, and told them when we come, and how we left the folks at home, and how long we was going to stay, and all that, but none of them said a word about that thing; which was just astonishing, and no mistake. Tom said he believed if we went to the sycamores we would find that body laying there solitary and alone, and not a 

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