These unjustly neglected works, among the most enjoyable of Mark Twain's novels, follow Tom, Huck, and Jim as they travel across the Atlantic in a balloon, then down the Mississippi to help solve a mysterious crime. Both with the original illustrations by Dan Beard and A.B. Frost. “Do you reckon Tom Sawyer was satisfied after all them adventures? No, he wasn’t. It only just pisoned him for more.” So Huck declares at the start of these once-celebrated but now little-known sequels to his own adventures. Tom, Huck, and Jim set sail to Africa in a futuristic air balloon, where they survive encounters with lions, robbers, and fleas and see some of the world’s greatest wonders. Tom Sawyer Abroad Tom Sawyer, Detective By Mark Twain, Dan Beard, A. B. Frost UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS Copyright © 1982 The Regents of the University of California All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-520-27151-7 Contents ILLUSTRATIONS, ix, FOREWORD, xi, TOM SAWYER ABROAD, 1. Tom Seeks New Adventures, 1, 2. The Balloon Ascension, 12, 3. Tom Explains, 17, 4. Storm, 24, 5. Land, 30, 6. It's a Caravan, 37, 7. Tom Respects the Flea, 44, 8. The Disappearing Lake, 52, 9. The Discourses on The Desert, 63, 10. The Treasure-Hill, 69, 11. The Sand-Stann, 76, 12. Jim Standing Siege, 87, 13. Going for Tom's Pipe, 97, TOM SAWYER, DETECTIVE, Chapter 1, 107, Chapter 2, 112, Chapter 3, 118, Chapter 4, 124, Chapter 5, 129, Chapter 6, 132, Chapter 7, 138, Chapter 8, 143, Chapter 9, 149, Chapter 10, 155, Chapter 11, 158, EXPLANATORY NOTES, Tom Sawyer Abroad, 178, Tom Sawyer, Detective, 184, NOTE ON THE TEXTS, 188, CHAPTER 1 DO YOU RECKON Tom Sawyer was satisfied after all them adventures? I mean the adventures we had down the river the time we set the nigger Jim free and Tom got shot in the leg. No, he wasn't. It only just pisoned him for mote. That was all the effects it had. You see, when we three come back up the river in glory, as you may say, from that long travel, and the village received us with a torchlight procession and speeches, and everybody hurrah'd and shouted, and some got drunk, it made us heroes, and that was what Tom Sawyer had always been bankedn' to be. For a while he was satisfied. Everybody made much of him, and he tilted up his nose and stepped around the town like he owned it. Some called him Tom Sawyer the Traveler, and that just swelled him up fit to bust. You see he laid over me and Jim considerable, because we only went down the river on a raft and come back by the steamboat, but Tom went by the steamboat both ways. The boys envied me and Jim a good deal, but land! they just knuckled to the dirt before Tom. Well, I don't know; maybe he might have been satisfied if it hadn't been for old Nat Parsons, which was Postmaster, and powerful long and slim, and kind of good-hearted and silly and baldheaded, on accounts of his age, and most about the talkiest old animal I ever see. For as much as thirty years he'd been the only man in the village that had a ruputation—I mean, a ruputation for being a traveler, and of course he was mortal proud of it, and it was reckoned that in the course of that thirty years he had told about that journey over a million times and enjoyed it every time, and now comes along a boy not quite fifteen and sets everybody gawking and admiring over his travels, and it just give the poor old thing the jim-jams. It made him sick to listen to Tom and hear the people say "My land!" "Did you ever!" "My goodness sakes alive!" and all them sorts of things, but he couldn't pull away from it, any more than a fly that's got its hind leg fast in the molasses. And always when Tom come to a rest, the poor old cretur would chip in on his same old travels and work them for all they was worth, but they was pretty faded and didn't go for much, and it was pitiful to see. And then Tom would take another innings, and then the old man again—and so on, and so on, for an hour and more, each trying to sweat out the other. You see, Parsons's travels happened like this. When he first got to be postmaster and was green in the business, there was a letter come for somebody he didn't know, and there wasn't any such person in the village, Well, he didn't know what to do nor how to act, and there the letter stayed and stayed, week in and week out, till the bare sight of it give him the dry gripes. The postage wasn't paid on it, and that was another thing to worry about. There wasn't any way to collect that ten cents, and he reckoned the Gov'ment would hold him responsible for it and maybe turn him out besides, when they found he hadn't collected it. Well at last he couldn't stand it any longer. He couldn't sleep nights, he couldn't cat, he was thinned down to a shadder, yet he dasn't ask anybody's advice, for the very person he asked for the advice might go back on him and let the Gov'ment know about that letter. He had the letter buried under the floor, but that didn't do no