Reining in his horse in front of the barn, the night rider cried:
“Tangle the horses’ tails this night;
Let the hogs all sing and dance upright.”
The doors of the barn flew open, and two horses charged into the yard. They whinnied in terror, and Billy could see their tails were so twisted together that they began running in a circle, which only frightened them more. Behind them, in the shadows of the barn, he saw the nightmarish forms of three pigs, squealing and prancing around on their hind legs, as though they were trying to sing and dance.
Lamps were lit in the farmhouse; Billy could hear shouts. The night rider wheeled his horse and galloped away from the farm. They traveled fast as a whirlwind through unfamiliar countryside. Long after the moon had set, Billy began to recognize landmarks. In the starlight he saw that they were nearing the cluster of chestnut and ash trees where his adventure had begun.
But at the very edge of the grove, Billy’s rider suddenly vanished; the black horse turned into a bundle of oat straw under him, and he tumbled to the ground with a thump.
He lay for a long time, just catching his breath. Then he got to his feet, grabbed the bundle of oat straw, and ran to tell his grandparents what he had seen. Before he reached home, he looked at the oat straw and thought, “They’ll never believe me.” So he crept quietly back into bed and said nothing, though in his mind he relived the amazing night ride again and again.
The next evening, sitting at the kitchen table helping his grandmother shell peas, Billy asked, “What’s an ‘apprentice’?”
“A beginner, a learner,” Anne Mosby answered, “a boy who works for someone so he can learn the man’s trade.” She looked at her grandson curiously. “You thinking of hiring yourself out to someone?”
“No,” said Billy, “I just heard the word somewhere, and I wondered what it meant.”
But as he worked at the peas, his mind began to race. He imagined what it might be like to wave his hands and have pigs dance in the moonlight or bundles of oat straw turn into night riders on magical horses. If he could ever get up the nerve, he thought, he might, just might, ask Francis Woolcott to make him an apprentice. It was a frightening thought, but it was also an exciting one.
But there were no more stories of the thirteen night riders after that. Though Billy eagerly watched the road past the farm, old Francis Woolcott, who was ninety years old, no longer visited the neighbors and took away the farmers’ goods with him. The boy heard several people mutter, “He’s died or gone to the devil, and not a moment too soon.”
No one would go near the silent, tumble-down cabin. When Billy suggested he and his grandparents should go take a look, Anne and Enoch told him to mind his own business.
When his need to know what had happened and his fear that he might never learn the secrets of night riding got the better of him, Billy slipped away one afternoon to the little house that looked completely deserted. He knocked several times; when a faint cry came from inside, the boy pushed open the door.
The cramped room inside smelled stale and sour. Old Francis Woolcott lay under a pile of filthy bedclothes on a cot in one corner. At first Billy thought the old man was dead, his eyes were closed so tight. But they popped open, and Woolcott asked sharply, “What are you doing here, boy?”
“I … well …,” Billy mumbled.
“Speak up!” Francis Woolcott demanded.
“I want to become your apprentice,” the boy managed to get out.
“Then you’re a fool, boy,” said the old man bitterly. “Why would you want to learn such things?”
“I want to call up night riders of my own,” Billy said eagerly. “I want to be able to turn people I don’t like into chickens.”
“There’s a price on such secrets, boy,” whispered the old man, suddenly turning his head to watch the door. “There’s a terrible price which nobody should have to pay. But I’m going to, soon enough.”
“What do you mean?” asked Billy, wondering if maybe the old man had gone out of his head.
“He’s coming for me soon,” croaked Francis Woolcott. “I’m dying, but I won’t have any peace.”
“Maybe I’d better go get my grandfather,” said Billy, frightened by the other’s fear. He turned to go, but the old man grabbed his wrist with a clutch like a circle of iron.
Billy heard a sudden clap of thunder, unexpected on what had been a pleasant summer day. Staring out the window, he saw rain pelting down from a sudden storm. In the shadows, the dying man’s face had such a horrible look that Billy gave a small cry of alarm. With each peal of thunder, Woolcott trembled more and more.
“He’s coming,” the old man said again, struggling to sit up in bed. Then he gave a cry and fell back on his pillow.
Billy heard the loudest crash of thunder yet. Then, over the sound of the wind and rain, he heard galloping hoofs in the road. They stopped just outside the cabin.
Francis Woolcott, terror-stricken, tightened his hold on the boy, and tried to say something that Billy couldn’t make out. The door was flung open, and a night rider stood like a monstrous shadow in the doorway. The old man gave a final, strangulated cry, then let his hand drop limply away from Billy’s wrist.
There was a violet flash of lightning; for an instant Billy caught a glimpse of the rider’s face. He saw horns, skin the color of raw beef, and eyes that burned like coals. The room smelled of sulfur, and the sound of rain on the roof was deafening. Then the figure strode to the bed, picked up the old man as if he weighed no more than a bundle of oat straw, and carried him through the door.
The panel slammed behind them. There was a peal of thunder, then the sound of galloping hoofs disappearing into the rain.
But when Billy had calmed down enough to leave the cabin that now held only him, he found the road outside was dry. At home he found his grandparents hadn’t noticed any rain or heard any thunder. When he tried to tell them what he had seen, they scolded him for making up outlandish stories.
Later Anne asked her grandson, “You still thinking about becoming someone’s apprentice?”
“No, ma’am,” said Billy, “not now, not ever!”
The Hunter in the Haunted Forest
(a Native American legend)
Once a young hunter of the Teton tribe went seeking game in a forest that was supposed to be haunted. His relatives and friends tried to discourage him from going there. But he said, “I have a wife and two children to feed. Winter is coming, and luck has been against me. We have very little to eat. If I don’t bring back game, my family will starve.”
“We will share what we have with you,” promised his relatives.
“No,” he said, “if the winter lingers, and my family eats too much of your food, we will all starve. I have heard there is much game in those woods because no one goes there.”
“That is because ghosts roam its paths at night,” said his friends. “Anyone who goes there does not come back.”
But the young man’s mind was made up. He took a small quantity of wasna, which is grease mixed with pounded buffalo meat and wild cherry. His father gave him some tobacco to take with him, also.
Then he set out. After two days he reached the edge of the haunted forest. Just as he entered its shadows, the Thunder Beings raised a great storm, so he was forced to seek shelter from the pounding rain. Hurrying along the path, he came to a clearing. In the center was a small tepee made of deer hide.
Just as the hunter was about to lift the flap and go inside, he heard two persons talking.
One voice said, “Hush! There is someone outside. Let us invite him in. We will offer him food and invite him to stay the night here. Then, when he is asleep, we will kill him and follow his ghost along the spirit’s road”—which is what the Teton people called the Milky Way.
“Yes, yes,” the other voice agreed eagerly.
Then the hunter fled, because he knew they were ghosts inside the tepee. And he knew from their talk that they had not found their
way out of this world, but walked a dark trail—probably because they had been wicked when they were alive.
So he ran until he thought his lungs and heart would burst. For a time he was sure he heard the ghosts following him; but when he could run no more, he looked back and realized the sound was only the rain dripping from tree branches onto the leaves spread over the forest floor.
As sunset approached, the rain stopped and the sky cleared. The hunter found what shelter he could under a fallen tree. He tried to sleep, but voices gathered around him and whistled, “Hyu! hyu! hyu!” though he could see no one. When the moon rose, the voices scattered like leaves in the wind and left only silence behind. He pulled his blanket over his head and tried again to sleep.
When the hunter awoke the next morning, he decided to go deeper into the woods. But though he found plentiful signs of game all around, he was unable to see a single deer or elk. Disappointed, when night came he found a small clearing and built a fire to warm himself. He ate a bit of wasna, then leaned back against a tree trunk to smoke some of the tobacco his father had given him.
He had only taken a puff or two when an old man, wrapped in a red robe, appeared at the edge of the clearing, making the sign of peace. The hunter invited him to sit, and the old man settled down on the other side of the clearing.
The young man, happy to have human company, offered the other some wasna. The old man refused, but he asked eagerly for some of his tobacco. The hunter held his pipe out to the other; but when the old man took it and held it by the stem, the younger man saw in the firelight that his fingers were nothing but bones.
Then the stranger let his robe slip back from his shoulders, and all his fleshless ribs were visible. The ghost (for the hunter knew this is what the old man was) did not open his lips when he pulled on the pipe; the smoke came pouring out through his ribs.
When he had finished smoking, the ghost said, “Ho! Now we must wrestle. If I throw you, you will go home empty-handed, to face cold death this winter. If you can throw me, you will catch more game than you can carry, and your family will stay well fed and healthy until the spring.”
Since there was nothing else he could do, the young man agreed. But first he threw an armful of brush on the fire; then he put even more brush near the flames.
The ghost rushed at the hunter. He seized him with his bony hands, which hurt the young man painfully, though he did not cry out. Then he tried to push off the ghost, but the skeleton’s legs were very powerful, and were locked around the hunter’s own.
With great effort, the hunter was able to twist nearer the fire. When the ghost came near it, he grew weak. But when he was able to pull the young man back toward the darkness, he became strong again.
As the fire burned low, the ghost’s strength grew. The man began to get weary, but the thought of his family slowly starving to death gave him added vigor. He was able to force the ghost near the fire again. Then, with a last effort, the hunter yanked one foot free and pushed the pile of brush into the fire. It blazed up instantly, lighting the whole clearing. The ghost let out an ear-piercing scream, and then his skeletal frame began to crumble, until it was nothing more than a pile of ashes.
But the ghost had spoken the truth. The next day the young man caught all the game he needed—more than enough to provide his family for the long, cold winter ahead.
Brother and Sister
(retold from an African folktale)
There was once a stubborn girl who refused to marry any of the young men who came to ask for her hand. The men offered her father cattle and goats in exchange for his daughter, but the young girl would have none of them. Finally her parents grew angry and said they would marry her to the next suitor who came for her.
Soon after this there was a great dance in the village, and all the young men from other villages came. A very tall and handsome man arrived, wearing a headband of gold. All of the unmarried girls tried to catch his eye—but the young woman who had refused to marry was the first to speak to him. When it came time for dancing, he saw to it that he danced close to her. And she fell in love with him.
Later the young man asked for the daughter’s hand in marriage, and her mother and father joyfully agreed.
But during the feasting that followed, while everyone laughed and shouted and ate sugar canes, oranges, bananas, and guavas, the girl’s little brother saw that the stranger had a second mouth at the back of his head, which was the sure mark of a demon.
He told his mother what he had seen, but she only said, “What foolishness to think that this fine young man is evil. You are wicked to make up such a story. Be quiet, and share your sister’s happiness.”
When he went to his father, his father only said the same thing, adding that he would beat the boy if he made trouble. Nor would any of his friends do anything but laugh at him.
So the wedding was celebrated. After several days, the girl and her new husband set off for his home, which was a great distance away.
But her brother, who was worried because of what he had seen, followed them.
As the couple walked along, the husband asked, “Can you still see the smoke from your parents’ village?”
“Yes,” his new wife answered.
Then he shrugged and they walked on in silence. A little farther along, he asked, “Can you see the hills behind your parents’ home?”
“I can see the tops just above the trees,” she said. Then they walked farther still.
At last he said, “Can you see the smoke or the hills that mark your old home?”
“No,” she replied, “they have disappeared.”
“Then we are in my land.” And he brought her to a one-room mud hut. It looked like one of the madili, temporary houses her people lived in when they were away from their real homes; but the grass thatch was black with the soot of years. There was no shamba, vegetable garden, near it. The hut was surrounded by a boma, a fence built of thorn branches, like an enclosure where cattle were kept, with only a single small opening in it for a gate. Far away the girl could hear the sound of a rushing river.
There were only a few poor mats and broken pots inside. The young wife was very disappointed. But because she loved her husband, she only said, “Have you any green maize or beans or sweet potatoes, so that I can fix a meal for you?”-For it was growing very late in the day.
“I will eat soon enough,” said her husband.
“But,” the girl persisted, “surely you have some shihango?”—the roasted meat her people kept on hand for emergencies.
“I will eat very soon,” her husband replied. Then he sat in the door of the hut and would say nothing else. She set to work cleaning the place, which seemed as dirty as an animal den. When the shadows lengthened, the man rose suddenly and walked down the path into the woods. His new wife called out to him not to leave her alone or risk the dangers of the forest, but he ignored her. Soon the shadows under the trees swallowed him up.
Now the little brother was hidden at the edge of the woods, watching. He secretly followed the man. In a clearing he saw him beginning to change into a hyena. Then the creature threw back its head and shrieked, and the boy, still hidden, heard answering shrieks from all around. In a moment the boy guessed that his sister had been lured to this place to be eaten by the demon and his forest kin.
So the boy raced back to the hut and told his sister what he had seen. At first she refused to believe him. But her husband’s strange actions and the howls of approaching hyenas forced her to believe.
Because they did not dare try to outrun the beasts, they rearranged the thorny branches that made up the boma, fence, around the hut, to block the only opening. When the animals reached the hut, they found it completely circled by a wall of thorns. At first the creatures only snarled and padded around the outside of the fence.
Then the demon, who was far larger than any true hyena, sprang over the wall of thorns.
The boy and his sister had hidden in the hut and tied the wooden door shut
with strips of hide. But the hyena was hurling itself against the door, and they knew it wouldn’t last long. So they climbed out the single small window at the back of the hut and onto the roof, just as the beast burst through the entrance. There they found a low-hanging tree branch just within reach.
“Now we must climb for our lives,” the boy said.
His sister boosted him up, because he was lighter. Then, when he was safely lying at length on the branch, he stretched down his hand and helped her up. A moment later the hyena realized what they had done and scrambled onto the roof after them. But the sister and brother climbed high up into the branches of the tree, where the beast could not follow.
Then the creature leapt back over the boma with a cry. The other hyenas gathered in a circle around the trunk of the tree. Led by the demon, with their powerful jaws they made short work of chewing through the tree.
But the boy and his sister fled to another tree, just as the trunk of the first was bitten through, so it toppled with a crash.
As quickly as they reached a new tree, the hyenas began biting its trunk to pieces, so they were forced to flee again. This went on until just before dawn, they came to a tree that grew beside the fast-flowing river. To the right and left there were no trees close enough or big enough to help them. And the beasts had bitten halfway through the last tree.
“Now we must swim,” cried the boy.
Before his sister could say anything, the tree fell into the swift river with a splash.
They began swimming for the far shore. Snarling, the demon hyena plunged into the water after them. The remaining animals, howling and snapping, ran up and down along the bank, but wouldn’t go into the water.
“We can’t both get away!” gasped the girl. “I will let him catch me, and you can escape.”
“We’re almost to the shore!” her brother answered. “Keep swimming.”
Just as they reached the sandy bank, the dawn began to break, and the demon turned back into human form. Now it was the tall young man who was swimming after them— but his eyes were those of an angry beast, and he growled like a forest creature.
Short & Shivery Page 9