Tom fou altra vegada un heroi resplendent, l'amanyagat dels vells, l'enveja dels joves. Son nom arribà fins i tot a ésser estampat per a sempre més, perquè el periòdic del poble el glorificà. Hi hagué qui va creure que arribaria fins i tot a president, si s'escapava de la forca.
TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging.
Com sol passar, la gent voluble i sense seny va perdre els estreps a favor de Muff Potter, i li féu tantes de festes com abans li havia fet ultratges. Però aquesta mena de conducta fa honor al món: així, doncs, no està bé de posar-hi titlles.
As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it.
Els dies de Tom eren plens de gaubança i d'esclat, però les seves nits eren tongades d'horror. Joe l'Indi li infestava tots els somnis, i sempre amb la sentència de mort als ulls. Amb prou feines cap temptació podia convèncer el minyó d'eixir al ras després que la nit havia caigut. El pobre Huck es trobava en el mateix estat de misèria i terror, perquè Tom havia contat tota la història al curial la nit abans del gran dia de la causa, i Huck tenia una por cruel que la seva participació en el negoci pogués traspuar encara, baldament la fugida de Joe l'Indi li hagués estalviat el neguit de declarar davant el Tribunal. El pobre minyó havia assolit que el curial li prometés de servar el secret; però què en trauria? Ja que la turmentada consciència de Tom havia pogut menar-lo a la casa del curial, de nit, i arrencar una temuda història de llavis segellats amb el jurament més llòbrec i formidable, la confiança de Huck en la raça humana estava arran d'esvair-se.
Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was wellnigh obliterated.
De dia, la gratitud de Muff Potter feia a Tom content d'haver parlat; però de nit desitjava de no haver desclòs els llavis.
Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue.
Unes vegades Tom temia que Joe l'Indi no fos mai capturat; les altres temia que en fos. Estava segur que mai no tornaria a alenar a plaer fins que aquell home fos mort i ell n'hagués vist el cadàver.
Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse.
Hom havia ofert recompenses, hom havia explorat la contrada; però Joe l'Indi era introbable. Una de aquelles meravelles omniscients i espaordidores, un detectiu, vingué de Sant Lluís, sotjà pels voltants, mogué el cap, prengué el posat de savi, i aconseguí aquella mena d'èxit astorador que els membres d'aquest ofici generalment aconsegueixen. És a dir, va trobar una pista. Però és impossible de penjar una pista per assassinat: així és que, després que aquest detectiu hagué fet el seu fet i tornat a casa, Tom va sentir-se tan mal segur com estava abans.
Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and aweinspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before.
Els dies cançoners anaven passant, i cada un deixava al seu darrera el pes de l'aprehensió una mica alleujat.
The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension.