The two men ran back up to the gun deck to inform Tuttle of the disappearing cannon. The sergeant, still staring down the hole, commented that it was taking his men far too long to appear. He jumped a mile when one of them spoke at his elbow.
“Sarge, we can’t find the cannon,” the man reported. Tuttle jerked upright and whirled around. “What do you mean you can’t find the cannon?” he roared. “It’s right there!” He gestured into the hole.
“It may be right there,” said the man, quaking but defiant, “but it isn’t down there!” He gestured to the room below. The two men dragged Tuttle downstairs and showed him the empty room. By this time, most of the men working on the gun deck had followed them downstairs, so there was quite a crowd when the sergeant pronounced, “There must be a sealed chamber behind that wall. Men, we need pickaxes and sledgehammers.”
Immediately the soldiers dispersed to locate the requested tools, and soon several men were hammering away at the coquina wall with a will, speculating between blows about the reason the newly christened cannon room had been sealed.
As the first hammer penetrated the secret room, the air was suddenly filled with an overwhelming scent of roses. A moment later, the hole was big enough to peer inside. The men ripped away at the hole until there was room to enter the hidden chamber. Grabbing a lantern, Tuttle stepped into the secret space, followed by his men. There, amid the dust and rubble, stood the fallen cannon. And behind it, chained to the wall, were two moldering skeletons. One still wore the decaying remains of a first officer’s uniform. The other still smelled faintly of roses.
27
The Witch Bridle
Albright, West Virginia
Well now, old Ebenezer Braham learned a lesson about dealing with witches one night last summer, and it’s one he won’t ever forget, no sir. Ebenezer was living at the time in a one-room log cabin outside Albright near the Cheat River. The cabin didn’t have too much in the way of furnishings, just a great big old fireplace in one corner and his little bed in the other. Ebenezer was a simple man.
One night Ebenezer woke up, hearing men’s voices talking right there in his cabin. He didn’t know where the men had come from, but he figured it was best to pretend he was still sleeping until he learned what was going on. He listened carefully, and to his astonishment, he learned that the voices belonged to men who were members of a band of witches. They were using his house to store their bewitched bridles.
From the bits of conversation he overheard, Ebenezer realized that the men could use the bridles on man or beast, who would then be subjected to the witches’ will, carrying the witches like horses wherever they wanted to go. That night, these witches wanted to go to the witch feast up on Scraggle Mountain, and they were going to ride Ebenezer’s calves all the way up there and back. Ebenezer was real sore when he heard that. He was proud of those calves. One of them was sure to win him prizes at the local fair.
One of the witches—the seventh one—was missing from the group that night. The witches complained bitterly about his defection, and Ebenezer cracked open one of his eyes to get a glimpse at them while they were deep in conversation. He watched as they took the witch bridles and a magic ointment out from under the hearthstone. He saw them rub the ointment on their foreheads and throats, cross themselves three times, and fly up the chimney.
Ebenezer jumped out of bed and watched from the window as the witches placed the bridles on six of his seven calves and rode them away toward Scraggle Mountain. Well, Ebenezer decided to do something foolish. He had never been to a witches’ feast, and here was one witch bridle and the magic ointment right under his hearthstone. He would never have a better opportunity than this. So Ebenezer moved the heavy hearthstone and grabbed the last witch bridle. Then he took the ointment, rubbed it on his forehead and throat, crossed himself three times, and flew right up the chimney with a startled yell of delight.
Ebenezer landed in the calf lot and bridled up the last calf, a small red one. He jumped up on its back and urged the small animal to its top speed. He wanted to follow those witch men to the feast, and they had a head start on him. The little red calf was as fast as the wind. Before you could say Jack Robinson, Ebenezer could see the witch men ahead of him at the ford. The men urged the calves to jump the stream. The calves all made the leap with ease, except the small white calf, which landed in the water on the far side of the stream. That calf had to wade out and climb the steep bank on the other side, but soon it was running merrily behind the others, its rider just a little bit wet.
Ebenezer knew his calf was even smaller than the white one, but it had run so fast that he was sure it could make the jump. So Ebenezer urged his calf forward. The brave little red calf jumped as high as it could, but it landed on a log that had been submerged smack in the center of the stream. The log split in two, and Ebenezer barely managed to grab hold of it with one hand and the witch bridle with the other. The bit of the witch bridle slid out of the mouth of the calf, and the little animal disappeared beneath the water.
Ebenezer was angry and wet. He dragged himself onto the log belly first. But before he could stand, SMACK! something jumped on his back and WHAM! something pushed the witch bridle into his mouth. Ebenezer barely got a glimpse of a large blue cat before it mounted him, shouting, “Haha! I will get a ride to the witches’ feast after all. Too bad about your calf, Ebenezer. If you hadn’t pushed him to jump, I would have ridden him instead of you. Haha!”
The big blue cat twitched the reins and slapped Ebenezer in the face with one big blue paw. Ebenezer was terribly mad, but he was under the spell of that witch bridle, so all he could do was crawl off toward Scraggle Mountain on his hands and knees like a horse. That big blue cat was a mean one. It jumped up and down on Ebenezer’s back, urging him to go faster. It whipped him with the reins and beat him with its claws and jerked the bit back and forth in Ebenezer’s mouth until his teeth ached. Up and up they climbed over terribly sharp rocks, hard roots, and bumpy ground.
“Hahaha!” the cat laughed. “Hahaha!”
At last they drew near the witches’ meeting place on Scraggle Mountain, and the big blue cat tied Ebenezer like a horse, so it could ride him back down the mountain when the feasting was over. While the big blue cat went off to revel with the other witches, Ebenezer tried and tried to shake the witch bridle’s control over his mind. He was still trying when the big blue cat returned to the place Ebenezer was tied. The cat was yawning sleepily.
“I’m gonna take a nap before I ride you home, haha!” said the blue cat to Ebenezer. It curled up under the tree next to Ebenezer and fell asleep immediately. Somehow, the sight of the terrible blue cat did the trick. Suddenly Ebenezer’s mind was clear, and he pulled off the witch bridle. Gazing angrily at the blue cat, Ebenezer decided it was his turn for a ride. He snuck up on the cat and thrust the bridle over its head and put the bit in its mouth. Ruthlessly, he shook the cat awake. The big blue cat snarled and hit out at Ebenezer with its claws, but Ebenezer just laughed.
“Hohoho! I was your horse up the mountain, now you can be my horse down the mountain. And you’ve got the easier piece, ’cause it’s all downhill from here. So I guess you’ll have to take me all the way home to make it even.”
The cat yowled and pleaded with Ebenezer, but in the end it had to carry him down the mountain. Ebenezer was a big, heavy man, and the cat’s paws were scratched and bleeding by the time they reached the bottom of the mountain. The blue cat groaned and complained at the weight of its burden.
They were nearly back to Ebenezer’s house when the blue cat turned aside and tried to carry Ebenezer toward an old dilapidated hut. Ebenezer was feeling happier now, content that he had avenged himself sufficiently on the terrible blue cat. He decided to let it go and walk the rest of the way home. He dismounted, but kept the witch bridle firmly in place as the blue cat hobbled toward the door. As soon as the blue cat reached the hut, it was transformed into
an evil old witch woman.
“Hahaha!” she cackled at Ebenezer. “Now you see who I really am! I am going to bewitch you until you die, Ebenezer.”
“Hohoho!” said Ebenezer. “I still have the witch bridle on you and I am still your master. I’m going to chain you to the wall and go home to make a silver bullet. Then I’ll come back and shoot you.”
The Witch Bridle
The witch woman wailed and pleaded for Ebenezer to spare her life, but Ebenezer chained her up and went home with the witch bridle to make a silver bullet.
Well, just after sunrise, a man came to the dilapidated hut to plead with the witch to spare the life of his son, whom the witch had cursed the previous evening. When the man saw that the witch was chained, he thought he should go away. Someone was obviously going to take care of that evil witch, and then his son would be free of the curse.
But the witch, seeing a chance at freedom, beguiled the man by claiming that her death would not remove the curse from his son. If the man set her free, she said, she would remove the curse and promise never to harm the man or his family again. As proof of her goodwill, she offered the man a gold ring she had in her pocket. So the man found a sharp stone and broke the chain holding her to the wall. He left the hut with an antidote for his son and the gold ring in his pocket.
“Hahaha! I will deal with you later,” the witch called softly after his departing figure. “Right now, I have another spell to make.”
The witch pulled out the shining tin pan she used for spells from her crooked wooden cupboard and sat down in the blazing sunshine. She gazed unblinking into the brightness of the tin; her evil eyes were used to the glare after many years of spell-making. She began to chant the spell, calling on the devil to help her bewitch Ebenezer Braham.
“He shall be in pain,” she said. “Terrible pain.” With her finger, the witch drew figures on the blazing tin pan and tapped the pan several times.
At his home, Ebenezer was nearly finished making the silver bullet. As a precaution, he had also drawn the likeness of the witch on a piece of paper. He could feel the witch’s spell trying to take him, so he hurriedly put the silver bullet into his gun. Then he ran outside, fixed the picture of the witch to a tree, took aim, and fired. The silver bullet struck the center of the picture and slammed deeply into the tree.
In the doorway of the hut, the witch was finishing her spell. “Pain shall plague Ebenezer Braham henceforth until he dies, so help me de- . . .”
It was at that critical moment that the bullet pierced the center of the picture. The witch gave a terrible cry, dropped the glowing tin pan, and clapped her hand to her heart.
“I am shot! I am killed!” she screamed, and fell over dead.
Ebenezer felt the spell lift from his mind. He bent in half, breathing deeply until he calmed down again. Then he went to the hearthstone, withdrew the witch bridles that the witches had returned in the night, and burned them in a hot, hot fire until they were completely gone. He placed a copy of the Good Book under the hearthstone, and the witches never came to his house again.
But Ebenezer kept the magic ointment, and once in a while he will still fly up the chimney and soar like a bird over the countryside until dawn.
28
Tailypo
Montgomery County, Tennessee
Way back in the woods of Tennessee lived an old man and his three dogs—Uno, Ino, and Cumptico-Calico. They lived in a small cabin with only one room. This room was their parlor and their bedroom and their kitchen and their sitting room. It had one giant fireplace where the old man cooked supper for himself and his dogs every night.
One night, while the dogs were snoozing by the fire and the old man was washing up after his supper, a very curious creature crept through a crack between the logs of the cabin. The old man stopped washing his plate and stared at the creature. It had a rather round body and the longest tail you ever did see.
As soon as the old man saw that varmint invading his cozy cabin, he grabbed his hatchet. Thwack! He cut off its tail. The creature gave a startled squeak and raced back through the crack in the logs. Beside the fire, the dogs grumbled a bit and rolled over, ignoring the whole thing.
The old man picked up the very long tail. There was some good meat on that tail, so he roasted it over the fire. Cumptico-Calico woke up when she smelled the tail cooking and begged for a bite, but after the old man had his first taste, he couldn’t bear to part with a single mouthful. Cumptico-Calico grumbled and lay back down to sleep.
The old man was tired, so he finished washing up and went to bed. He hadn’t been sleeping too long when a thumping noise awoke him. It sounded like an animal was climbing up the side of his cabin. He heard a scratch, scratch, scratching noise, like the claws of a cat. And then a voice rang out: “Tailypo, Tailypo; all I want’s my Tailypo.”
The old man sat bolt upright in bed. He called to the dogs, “Hut! Hut! Hut!” like he did when they were out hunting. Uno and Ino jumped up immediately and began barking like mad. Cumptico-Calico got up slowly and stretched. She was still mad at the old man for not giving her a bite of the tail. The old man sent the dogs outside. He heard them trying to climb the cabin walls after the creature. It gave a squeal and he heard a thump as it jumped to the ground and raced away, the dogs chasing it around the back of the cabin and deep into the woods.
Much later, he heard the dogs return and lay down under the lean-to attached to the cabin. The old man relaxed then and went back to sleep. Along about midnight, the old man woke with his heart pounding madly. He could hear something scratch, scratch, scratching right above his cabin door. “Tailypo, Tailypo; all I want’s my Tailypo.” The voice was chanting rhythmically against the steady scratch, scratch, scratch at the top of the door.
The old man jumped up, yelling, “Hut! Hut! Hut!” to his dogs. They started barking wildly, and he heard them race around the corner of the house from the lean-to. He saw them catch up with a shadowy something at the gate in front of the cabin. The dogs almost tore the fence down trying to get at it. Finally Cumptico-Calico leapt onto a stump and over the fence, Uno and Ino on her heels, and he heard them chasing the creature way down into the big swamp.
The old man sat up for a while, listening for the dogs to return. About three in the morning, he finally fell asleep again. Toward daybreak, but while it was still dark, the old man was wakened again by the sound of a voice coming from the direction of the swamp. “You know, I know; all I want’s my Tailypo.” The old man broke out in a cold sweat and yelled, “Hut! Hut! Hut!” for his dogs. But the dogs didn’t answer, and the old man feared that the creature had lured them down into the big swamp to kill them. He got out of bed and barricaded the door. Then he hid under the covers and tried to sleep. When it was light, he was going to take his hatchet and his gun and go find his dogs.
Just before morning, the old man was wakened from a fitful doze by a thumping sound right in the cabin. Something was climbing the covers at the foot of his bed. He peered over the covers and saw two pointed ears at the end of the bed. He could hear a scratch, scratch, scratching sound as the creature climbed up the bed, and in a moment he was looking into two big, round, fiery eyes. The old man wanted to shout for the dogs, but he couldn’t make his voice work. He just shivered as the creature crept up the bed toward him. It was large and heavy. He could feel its sharp claws pricking him as it walked up his body. When it reached his face, it bent toward him and said in a low voice, “Tailypo, Tailypo; all I want’s my Tailypo.”
All at once, the old man found his voice and he yelled, “I ain’t got your Tailypo!” And the creature said, “Yes you do!” And it grabbed the old man in its claws and tore him to pieces.
The next day, a trapper came across the old man’s dogs wandering aimlessly on the other side of the swamp. When the trapper brought the dogs back to the log cabin, he found the old man dead. All that remained w
ere a few scraps of clothing and some grisly bones. As the trapper buried the old man, he heard a faint chuckling sound coming from the swamp, and a voice said, “Now I got my Tailypo.” When they heard the voice, the dogs turned tail and ran for their lives.
There’s nothing left of that old cabin now except the stone chimney. Folks who live nearby don’t like to go there at night, because when the moon is shining brightly and the wind blows across the swamp, sometimes you can still hear a voice saying, “Tailypo.”
Tailypo
29
The Devil’s Mansion
New Orleans, Louisiana
I thought it very unfair that everyone stopped talking about the mansion on St. Charles Avenue whenever I came into the room. I was twelve years old the year Mama became friends with Mrs. Jacques, and I considered myself quite grown-up. Mama wouldn’t let me put up my hair yet, but I did have one or two party dresses that were fancy enough for a debutante. In just a few short years I would be gracing the ballrooms of New Orleans and breaking young men’s hearts. So I felt quite peeved that no one would tell me what was wrong with that mansion.
I had driven past the mansion several times while making calls with Mama, and I thought it was a beautiful house, although there was a ghastly head fixed to the gable of the roof. I could never get a clear glimpse of it because Mama made the coachman hurry past the house whenever we drove down St. Charles Avenue. I kept asking Mama and Papa to tell me about the house, but they always said they would tell me when I was older. They must have instructed the servants not to answer my questions either, because my governess refused to speak of the mansion, and I couldn’t even wheedle the story out of Sarah Jane, who used to be my nanny.
“Elizabeth, ’tis no use your asking me about that mansion,” Sarah Jane said to me, “ ’cause I won’t tell you anything about it. It’s not a story for a young girl like you.”
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