Injun Joe got drunk oftener than before, and became intolerably interesting.
I think that in "Tom Sawyer" I starved Injun Joe to death in the cave.
But that may have been to meet the exigencies of romantic literature.

I can't remember now whether the real Injun Joe died in the cave or out of it, but I do remember that the news of his death reached me at a most unhappy time--that is to say, just at bedtime on a summer night when a prodigious storm of thunder and lightning accompanied by a deluging rain that turned the streets and lanes into rivers, caused me to repent and resolve to lead a better life.

I can remember those awful thunder-bursts and the white glare of the lightning yet, and the wild lashing of the rain against the window-panes.

By my teachings I perfectly well knew what all that wild riot was for--Satan had come to get Injun Joe.

I had no shadow of doubt about it.