The old King opened the gate, counted ’em, says, “You’re a pretty good sheep-herder, Jack. Ye never lost one.”
Big Jack says, “Well, I done my best.”
“Your bed’s ready, Jack. You can just go on.”
Didn’t give him a bite of supper, and next mornin’, hit was near daylight, the King hollered, “Hello! Get up! Get up! Come on here and take them sheep out.”
The King counted his sheep and Jack stayed by ’em all day. He browsed around tryin’ to find him some more berries, drove the sheep back that evenin’.
The old King counted his sheep, says, “You done just fine, Jack. You never lost nary sheep today.” Says, “Go on now, your bed’s ready.”
Next mornin’ way ’fore daylight, King hollered, says, “Hello! Get out of that bed! Come on! Come on! Get out-a there!”
So he counted his sheep and Big Jack took ’em on out. He was starved. Hunted ever’where to try and find him somethin’ to eat, couldn’t find a thing. Got back in with the sheep that night, he couldn’t stand it no longer. So when the old King had counted his sheep, Big Jack says to him, says, “King, hit looks like I’m gettin’ awful hungry. Ain’t you goin’ to give me nothin’ to eat?”
“Why, no,” says the King. “I never hired ye to eat; I hired ye to tend sheep.”
The King looked at him, says, “Are ye mad?”
“Looks like a man ought to be mad,” says Big Jack: “work for somebody all day and starve to death. That ain’t no way to do!”
He stomped his foot and looked like he was about to cuss. So the King took hold on him and got him down: got out his knife and cut three strops right out of Big Jack’s back.
Then Big Jack recollected about that rule and how he’d done agreed to it, so he hobbled on off and started down the road. Directly he met up with Little Jack—the same one that’s in all them other tales.
Little Jack noticed him how he was limpin’ along and asked him what was the matter. So Big Jack told him all about what had happened. Little Jack took him on to the doctor and got him fixed up. Told the doctor to take care of Big Jack, said he’d pay ever-what it cost when he came by that way again.
Then Little Jack, he went on down to the King’s house to see would the King hire him.
The King says, “Ye ever herded sheep?”
“Why, yes,” says Jack, “that’s all I ever done at home—herd sheep.”
So the King told him about his rule: first one to get mad gettin’ three strops cut out of his back, and Jack says, “That’s all right. I hardly ever get mad.”
“Well, there’s your room, Jack. Your bed’s ready.”
Jack went on up, but he didn’t go to bed. He slipped out when they were all eatin’ supper, looked through the keyhole in the kitchen door and watched where they put ever’thing after they got done. Then, when they’d all of ’em gone to sleep, Jack eased the kitchen door open, filled his pockets full of bread and got him some salt.
Next mornin’ the King hollered him out, “Get out of there, Jack! Come on here and take them sheep out!”
Jack raised up and came right out. The old King drove his sheep through, counted ’em, and Jack took ’em on to pasture.
Sometime durin’ that day Jack knocked a sheep in the head, skinned it out and built him up a fire. He roasted that meat, took out his bread and salt, and eat on it all day long.
That night the old King counted his sheep, says, “Hello here, Jack! One of my sheep’s gone.”
“Yes,” says Jack, “I can’t help that. A man’s got to have somethin’ to eat. I knocked one of your sheep in the head so’s I could cook me some dinner.”
“Well,” says the King, “yonder’s your bed.”
Next day hit was the same thing. Jack killed him a right big sheep, just eat right on. That night the King noticed it. Jack went on to bed, after he’d slipped out and got him plenty of bread and salt from the kitchen.
Next day Jack killed him the biggest sheep in the gang. And that evenin’ when the King counted his sheep, he says to Jack, “Hello now, Jack! You’re goin’ to break me up. I can’t stand that no more.”
“Are ye mad?” says Jack.
“Oh, no!” the King says, “I ain’t mad, but I reckon I better not let ye tend my sheep no more. Are ye a good hand to plow?”
“Why, yes,” says Jack. “Hit’s a sight in the world how I can plow. My daddy says I’m the best hand to plow of any man in the country.”
“Well, I got a lot of plowin’ to do. I’ll put you to plowin’.”
Next day the old King went to the stable, holp Jack hitch up a big fine team of horses, put the plow on the sled and took Jack down to a big level field. The King held the plow up, told Jack to take it and showed him where to plow on that field.
Jack went to plowin’, turned out good straight furrows till the King left. And when the old King was out of sight, Jack let the horses drag the plow across the fields ever’ which-a-way they were minded to. The team went to pickin’ around at the grass in the field and Jack turned the ground wherever they picked at.
Got along the edge of the road directly, Jack saw a old man ridin’ to mill on a little jenny, says, “Hello, stranger! Stop there a minute. What in the world is that you’re a-ridin’? Law! I never did see such a trick as that before. Now, ain’t that the prettiest thing!”
“I’m a poor man,” the old man says. “You needn’t to be a-makin’ fun of my jenny. Hit’s the best I can do.”
“Makin’ fun, nothin’! I’m not a-makin’ fun. Law me! I want that thing. How much’ll ye take for it?”
“Oh, no, you don’t want this little old jenny.”
“I do too now. How’ll ye swap it for one of these here horses?”
“Why, I got nothin’ to pay ye any boot.”
“Boot? Why, bedad, I’d ’a ’lowed you’d want the difference. You swap me even for one of these horses, the trade’s made right now.”
So Jack took the harness off one of the horses. The old man turned the jenny in the field and rode the horse on off.
Jack got the little jenny ’side the other horse, put all that big harness on it, and started in plowin’ again. Ever’ time the horse pulled, the jenny would fly back against the plow. So fin’ly Jack took the swingletree, knocked the jenny in the head and killed it. Then he fastened it on behind the horse and com-menced draggin’ it back’erds and for’erds across the field.
The King came along directly, ran out in the field, says, “Jack, what in the world are ye a-doin’?”
“Why,” says Jack, “a man came along with this thing and I never saw nothin’ as pretty in all my life. I thought you’d like it the best in the world, so I swapped one of your horses for it. Blame thing wouldn’t plow, though, when I got it harnessed up, so I knocked it in the head with the swingletree. Now I’m a-draggin’ it around to wear it out, get it out your way.”
“Law me, Jack! You’re goin’ to break me up that-a-way.”
“You ain’t mad, are ye?” says Jack.
“No, I’m not particular mad,” says the King. “Oh, I ain’t a bit mad, but I don’t reckon you need to plow any more today. How are ye about pickin’ apples, Jack?”
“Oh, I’m a awful good hand to pick apples. That’s mostly ever’thing I follered—pickin’ off apples—at home and for all the neighbors. They say I’m hard to beat.”
“All right,” says the King. “You run down to the house and get that ladder settin’ up ’side the barn. Get you a basket and a rope and go on up in the orchard, start pickin’ off apples up there.”
Jack went and got the ladder and basket and rope, and he got him an axe. Went up to the orchard and cut down three big apple trees. Set the ladder up sideways on one of the stumps and started pickin’ off apples.
The old King wasn’t very long comin’ up there, says, “Jack! What in the nation you a-doin’ now?”
“I’m a-doin’ what you told me, pickin’ off apples.”
“What’d ye go an
d cut the trees down for?”
“How in the world you expect a man to pick off apples and them away up yonder like that? I always cut down the trees first.—You mad?”
“Why, no, I’m not mad at all; but you come here, Jack, and help me set that ladder up on one of them trees. I’ll have to show ye how I want them apples picked off.”
So Jack got hold on the ladder and holp him raise it up on a big high apple tree. The old King took the basket and rope, got up on the top round of the ladder and tied the basket up there. Jack saw him catch hold on a limb, jerked the ladder out from under him, left him a-hangin’ up there in top of the tree.
“Hey, Jack! What made ye do that?”
“Well, now, King,” says Jack, “you tell me what made you not give me no rations.”
“You run to the house, Jack. Tell my old lady I said to hurry and fix you some dinner, quick as she can.”
Jack ran to the King’s old woman, says, “The King sent me down here; told me to kiss you.”
“You confounded thing!” she says. “You get out of here or I’ll knock you in the head with the broom.”
Jack ran back out, bawled up to the King, says, “Hey, King! She says she won’t do no such a thing!”
“You tell her if she don’t I’ll come down there and stomp her good!”
The old lady heard what the King said. Jack ran back and kissed her, and then went on in the kitchen and eat him a pile of dinner.
Jack took his time, and fin’ly walked on back up to the orchard, put the ladder up under the King and holp him to get back down. Then Jack got up the ladder and went to pickin’ off apples.
The old King got back to the house, his old lady just lit in to him, says, “What in the world did you send that low-down thing in here to kiss me for?”
“Why, I never done it! Did you let him kiss ye?”
“Yes, I sure did! You hollered down here that if I didn’t you’d stomp me.”
The old King went back up to Jack and he was just a-r’arin’, says, “Jack, what did you go and tell my wife that for?”
Jack came down the ladder about halfways, says, “You not mad, are ye?”
The old King says, “Yes, I’m mad! I’m good and mad!” and he made like he was comin’ up after Jack.
Jack jumped down off the ladder right on top of him. They had it around awhile, till fin’ly Jack tumbled him, got him down, and cut three strops out of his back.
So Little Jack went on back to where he left Big Jack. Big Jack was all fixed up again, and Jack gave him them shoestrings he cut out the old King’s back.
Then Big Jack went on home, and Little Jack paid the doctor and then he went home too, I reckon, ’cause the last time I saw Jack that’s where he was.
Sop Doll!
Said one time Jack started out to hunt him a job of work. He pulled out and traveled on till he got to another settle-ment, ran across a feller told him there was a man there wanted to hire some work done. So he told Jack where the man’s house was at, and Jack went over there; stopped by the gate and hollered, “Hello!”
The man came out, asked Jack what did he want. So Jack told him.
The man told Jack to come on in; asked him what his name was. Says, “Well, Jack, I’ve got a mill on a watercourse down the road a piece, but I got no time to run it. I’ve hired several men to grind down there, but the very first night somethin’ has always killed ’em. Looked like it was some kind of pizen. Now I thought I’d tell ye, Jack, so you’d know all about it ’fore ye took the job.”
“Well,” says Jack, “if you don’t care, we might walk down there and look that mill over.”
So they went on down to the mill. Hit was a old log house with a fireplace and ever’thing fixed for whoever tended the mill to cook and sleep down there. There were twelve little windows rather high-up on the walls, had no window lights in ’em.
Jack looked it over right good, says, “Bedad, I believe I might take the job.”
The man says, “All right, Jack. I see you’re no coward. Now I’ll give ye half of what ye make and give ye your rations too. I’ll go back to the house and get ye some meat and meal for your supper. And you can start in grindin’ soon as anybody comes.”
Well, when word got out that the mill was opened up again, lots of customers started comin’ in and Jack had to grind right on till it was plumb dark.
Fin’ly got the last turn ground out and shut the mill down. He hadn’t no more’n got the water turned out of the mill race when here came an old man on a sorry-lookin’ mule, got off and walked in the mill with a little poke of corn on his shoulder. He had a long gray beard and he was one-eyed.
“Howdy do, Jack,” he says. “How you gettin’ on?”
“All right, I guess,” says Jack. “I hope you’re well.”
“About like common,” says the old man.
Then Jack looked at him, says, “I don’t believe I ever saw you before.”
“No,” the old man told him, “I’m a stranger.”
“Well, how in the world did you know my name?” Jack asked him.
“Oh, I knowed ye time I saw ye,” the old man says. “I’ve come a long way today, Jack, and I wonder could you grind my corn for me. I couldn’t get here no sooner.”
“Why, sure,” says Jack. “You wait here a minute and I’ll go turn the water in again.”
So Jack started the mill up and ground the stranger’s corn for him; shut the mill down, and when he got back the old man says to him, says, “Jack, you’re the first one ever done me right here at this mill and I’m goin’ to give ye a present.”
He reached in his big coat and took out a silver knife and handed it to Jack. Jack thanked him and the old man left. Then Jack built him up a fire in the fireplace and got out the skillet. Now Jack didn’t have no lamp, but the fire gave out right much light, and it happened the moon was shinin’ in all twelve of them windows. Made it pretty near as bright as day.
So Jack was cuttin’ up his meat with that silver knife when all at once hit got thick dark in there. Jack looked up and there in ever’ one of them little windows sat a big black cat. They all were a-lookin’ right at Jack, their eyes just a-shinin’.
Well, Jack wasn’t scared, much. He went on and put his meat in the skillet, set it on the fire and stooped down to turn it with his knife; paid no attention to them cats. But just about the time his meat ’gun to fry, Jack heared one cat light down on the floor. He went on cookin’, and next thing he knowed, there was a big black cat a-settin’ right up in the fireplace with him. Jack went to turn the meat over and that cat stuck out its paw toward the skillet, says, “Sop doll!”
Jack reached out right quick with his knife, says, “You better not sop your doll in my meat or I’ll cut it off.”
The old cat jerked its foot back and set there awhile. Them other cats stirred around a little; stayed on up in the windows.
Then Jack saw that big cat reach for his skillet again, says, “Sop, doll-ll!”
Jack come at it with his knife, says, “I done told you not to sop your doll in there. You try it one more time now, and I’ll sure whack it off.”
The old cat drawed back, set on there switchin’ its tail. Them other cats stirred a little, one or two of ’em sort of meowled.
Then that cat fopped its foot right smack in Jack’s gravy, says, “Sop! Doll-ll-ll!”
Jack came down with his knife right quick and cut the cat’s paw plumb off. The old cat jumped for a window and all twelve of ’em went,
“Whar-r-r-r-r!”
and were gone from there ’fore Jack could turn to look.
Well, Jack went to throw that meat in the fire, and instead of a cat’s paw hit was a woman’s hand layin’ there in the skillet, had a ring on one finger.
Jack took the hand out and wropped it in some paper, put it up on the fireboard. Then he washed and scoured his skillet, cooked him some more meat, and a pone of bread. Got done eatin’ and went on to bed.
The next mornin�
�� the man that owned the mill got up real early, says, “Old lady, you better get up and cook me some breakfast. I reckon I’ll have to make arrange-ments about buryin’ that boy today.”
His old lady sort of scrouged around in the bed, said she was sick and couldn’t get up. So the man fixed himself some breakfast and pulled on down to the mill.
There was Jack, just a-grindin’ right on.
The man got in to where Jack was, hollered to him, says, “Well! I wasn’t expectin’ to see you alive, Jack. Thought I’d be buryin’ you today.”
Jack hollered back at him, says, “Well, hit’s a good thing you don’t have to do that.”
The man hollered back in Jack’s ear, says, “When you get that turn ground out, shut down the mill. I got to talk to ye, right now.”
So directly Jack went and pulled the water-gate so’s the mill racket ’uld stop and him and that man could talk.
Says, “Now, Jack, you tell me what happened last night.”
Jack related to him about all them black cats and he told about the old man givin’ him that silver knife.
The man says, “I see through the whole thing now. Hit’s a witch gang. They wanted to have their lodge meetin’s here in the mill. And when that cat sopped in the grease she pizened it someway or other.”
Jack said he had an idea that was how it was. Said that was why he scoured the skillet. The man said hit was a good thing he done that. Then Jack told him about the cat’s paw turnin’ into a woman’s hand, says, “You might not believe that, but I’ve got it right here to show ye.”
Got that woman’s hand and unwropped it.
The man took it, looked it over, looked at the ring on it, says, “Now, I declare! Well, I’d ’a never thought it!” Says, “Now, Jack, you lock the mill up and come on back home with me. We got to tend to this right now. Hit’s a good thing that knife was made out of silver. You can’t hurt a witch with a knife, or a bullet even, unless it’s silver.”
The Jack Tales Page 7