So old John turned around and down the stairsteps he went. Got down there on the road to hell, a-staggerin’ along with his hands in his pockets a-whistlin’. And when he come in sight of the gates of hell, one of them little devils happened to peek out.
“Daddy! O Daddy! Look a-yonder!”
The old Devil come runnin’ and when he saw who it was a-comin’, he hollered out, says, “Bar the door, boys! Bar the door!”
Them little devils grabbed the big gates and slammed ’em to quick, turned the key in the lock. So when Wicked John come on up and looked through the bars there stood the old Devil with his young ’uns crowdin’ around behind him just a-tremblin’.
“Un-unh!” the old Devil says. “Get on away from here now! No, indeed, you ain’t comin’ in! I’ll not have ye! Don’t ye come no closter! You just turn around right there now, and put off from here.”
Wicked John studied a minute, says, “Well, con-found! I don’t know what’n the nation to do now. Saint Peter wouldn’t let me in up yonder, and here you’ve done locked me out. Why, I don’t know where to go to!”
So the Devil he looked around, grabbed him up a set of tongs, reached in the furnace, and got holt on a hot coal. Handed it out the bars, says, “Here, old man, you jest take this chunk of fire, and go on off somewhere else, and start you a hell of your own.”
Old John he took it; and they tell me that if you go down in the Great Dismal Swamps, you can look out of a night and see a little bob of a light a-movin’ along out there. And some folks call it the Jacky-my-lantern, and some call it the will-o’-the-whisp—but I reckon you know now who it is.
There was a lively burst of laughter from all the boys; and one of the three in front of Old Robin flung himself head-over-heels in his laughing fit much to the delight of us all.
“Hit’s wrong, tellin’ these boys such a pack of foolishness,” said Sarah. “Them old tales ought to be left alone anyhow.”
“Humpf!” went Granny London. “You listened as hard as the kids did the other day when I told ’em what I remembered about Poll and Betts and Mutsmag.”
“Tell it! Tell it!” came from the children.
“Deely here knows it better’n me now. I’m forgetful and liable to leave out part of it. You tell it for ’em, Deely.”
Delia looked around, and then let her chin sink thoughtfully. “Well, the way I’ve always heard it told—”
Mutsmag
One time there was an old woman had three girls, Poll and Betts and Mutsmag. Mutsmag she was the youngest, and Poll and Betts they treated her awful mean, made her do all the work while they’d lie in the bed of a mornin’, didn’t give her nothin’ to eat but left-overs.
Well, the old woman died and all she had was a cabbage patch and an old case-knife. She left the patch of cabbage to Poll and Betts, and she didn’t leave Mutsmag nothin’ but that old knife. Poll and Betts started in eatin’ that cabbage, didn’t let Mutsmag have a bite of it. And directly they eat it all up. So then Poll and Betts they decided they’d go a great journey and seek their fortune, so they borryed some meal to make journey cakes. Mutsmag begged and begged couldn’t she please go too, and they told her no, she couldn’t, but she begged and begged till fin’lly they told her, said, “All right, you crazy thing, but you’ll have to fix your own journey cakes. Here, go get you some water in this.”
And they handed her a riddel.1 So Mutsmag took the riddel and ran down to the spring. Tried to dip her up some water, it ’uld run out. Dip it up, it ’uld all run out. Then a little bluebird lit on a limb, tilted over and watched her; and directly it started in singin’, says:
“Stop it with moss and stick it with clay,
then you can pack your water away!
Stop it with moss and stick it with clay,
then you can pack your water away!”
“Much obliged,” says Mutsmag. “I’ll try that.” So she smeared clay inside the riddel and pulled some moss and daubed hit over the clay and stopped ever’ hole. Packed her riddel back to the house plumb full of water. So then her sisters had to let her go.
They got down the road a piece, and Poll and Betts started in whisperin’—turned around all at onct, grabbed Mutsmag and tied her to a laurel grub. Snatched her journey cakes and off they run. Mutsmag pulled at the rope and pulled at it; and fin’lly she thought of her old knife and give the rope a rip and aloose it come. So she took out after Poll and Betts.
They looked back directly and there come Mutsmag. “Law! There’s that crazy thing again! What’ll we do with her this time?” Well, there was an old shop-house right there ’side the road. So they grabbed her and shoved her in that old shop-house.2 The door-latch was on the outside, so when Poll and Betts slammed the door on Mutsmag there wasn’t no way for her to get out. She tried and tried but she couldn’t. So finally she set in to hollerin’. Old fox heard her and come to the door.
“Who’s in there?”
“Hit’s me—Mutsmag.”
“What ye want?”
“I want out.”
“Unlatch the latch.”
“Ain’t none. Hit’s out there. See can’t you push it up.”
“What’ll ye give me?”
“I’ll take ye to the fat of a goose’s neck.”
So the fox he reached for the latch and pushed it up, and Mutsmag took him where the fat goose was at, and then she put out and caught up with Poll and Betts again.
“Law! Yonder comes that crazy thing! What in the world will we do with her now?”
“Let’s make out she’s our servin’ girl and make her do all the work when we stay the night somewhere.”
So they let Mutsmag alone. And about dark they come to a house and hollered and an old woman come out. They asked her could they stay the night. Says, “We got us a servin’ girl. She’ll do up all the work for ye.”
The old woman said yes, they could stay, so Poll and Betts went on in and sat by the fire and Mutsmag went to scourin’ the pots.
Now the old woman had three girls about the size of Poll and Betts and Mutsmag, and she sent ’em all up in the loft to sleep. So they cloomb up the ladder and laid down in the straw, went right to sleep—all but Mutsmag. She stayed awake and listened. Heard somebody come in directly, stompin’ around and fussin’ at the old woman about supper not bein’ ready. Mutsmag looked down quick through the cracks and knotholes, seen it was a giant.
“Hush! Hush!” the old woman told him. “You’ll wake up them three fine fat pullets I got for ye up in the loft.” Says, “You can get ’em down now and I’ll cook ’em for ye.”
“HOW’LL I KNOW ’EM FROM YOUR GIRLS?”
“My girls got nightcaps on.”
Mutsmag reached right quick and jerked the nightcaps off them three girls, put ’em on her and Poll and Betts, laid back down and went to snorin’. The old giant reached up through the scuttlehole and felt around for the girls that didn’t have no nightcaps on. Pulled ’em down out the loft, wrung their necks and throwed ’em over to the old woman. She went to put ’em in the cook-pot, and when she seen what the old giant had done she lit into him with the pot-ladle and nearly beat him to death.
“You ugly old coot!” she hollered at him. “You’ve gone and got the wrong ones!” And she hit him over the head again. Well, she went to battlin’ the old giant with that ladle and the shovel and the poker and whatever she could grab up to beat him with and he went to dodgin’ around; and while all that was goin’ on, Mutsmag took her old knife and ripped the bedclothes and tied knots and made her a rope. Then she knocked a big hole in the shingles, tied the rope to a rafter and throwed it out, and Poll and Betts and her got away.
Well, they traveled on and traveled on, and the next evenin’ they come to the King’s house, and he invited ’em in to stay the night. Poll and Betts went to braggin’ about what’n-all they done at the old giant’s place, made like they was the ones done it. Mutsmag never said a word.
And directly the King said to Poll and Betts, says,
“All right. You girls ought to be sharp enough to go back over there and get shet of both of ’em. That old woman’s a witch and she’s worse than her old man, even if he is a giant. Reckon you can do that for me?”
Of course Poll and Betts couldn’t back out then, so they said sure, they could do that. Left there the next mornin’, but instead of goin’ anywhere close to that giant’s place they took out in another direction and that was the last anybody ever seen of ’em.
Well, Mutsmag she never said nothin’. Stayed on there and worked for the King. Then one evenin’ she put out and went on down to the giant’s house. Had a half-bushel poke of salt with her. So she cloomb up on the old giant’s house, got up there next to the chimney, and everwhen the old woman raised the pot-lid Mutsmag sprinkled salt down in the pot of meat she had cookin’. So directly the old giant started in eatin’.
“OLD WOMAN, THE MEAT’S TOO SALTY!”
“Why, I never put in but one pinch!”
“YOU MUST A’ PUT IN A HALF-BUSHEL, OLD WOMAN! FETCH ME SOME WATER HERE!”
“There hain’t a bit of water up.”
“GO TO THE SPRING AND GET SOME! HURRY NOW! I’M JEST ABOUT DEAD FOR WATER!”
“Hit’s too dark.”
“THROW OUT YOUR LIGHT-BALL!”
So the old woman throwed her light-ball out toward the spring, but Mutsmag was standin’ there and caught it on the point of her old knife; and when the old woman came runnin’ with the water bucket, Mutsmag squinched the light-ball in the spring and the old woman stumped her toe and fell and broke her neck. So Mutsmag cut off her head with that old knife, took it on back to the King.
He gave her a bushel of gold, says, “I declare, Mutsmag! You’re pretty sharp.” Says, “That old giant now, he’s got a fine white horse he stole from me. Hit’s a ten-mile-stepper, and I been tryin’ ever way in the world to get that horse back. You get it for me and I’ll pay ye another bushel of gold.”
So Mutsmag she went on back about the time it was gettin’ dark. Had her apron pocket full of barley. Went in the stable and there was the fine white horse. Hit had bells on its halter, and the rope where it was tied was awful thick and had more knots in it than you could count. Well, Mutsmag, she took her old knife and went to cuttin’ on them knots and the horse throwed up his head—
“Dingle! Dingle!”
The old giant come a-runnin’ and Mutsmag hid under the trough. The giant he opened the stable door, looked around, went on back. So Mutsmag threw some barley in the trough. The horse went for it and them bells didn’t dingle so loud.
Mutsmag she started in on them knots again. But the horse eat up all that barley, throwed up his head—
“Dingle! Dingle!”
And here come the old giant! Mutsmag hid by the door. The giant he shoved the door back on Mutsmag, came right on in the stable, looked around, looked around, went on back. Mutsmag throwed a double-handful of barley in the trough and worked at them knots just as hard as she could tear, but the fine white horse got the barley eat up, throwed his head around—
“Dingle! Dingle!”
And the old giant come so fast Mustmag just did have time to jump and hide under the bresh of the fine white horse’s tail. Giant came on in, had a lantern with him, looked around, looked under the trough, jerked the door back and looked there, looked in all the corners, up in the rafters. Then he got to feelin’ around under the horse’s belly, stooped down, shined his lantern, looked, says, “HOLD ON NOW, MY FINE WHITE HORSE! YE GOT TOO MANY LEGS BACK HERE!”
And just about that time the fine white horse switched his tail and there was Mutsmag. She made for the door but the old giant grabbed her, says, “NOW I GOT YE!”
“What you goin’ to do with me?”
“DON’T KNOW YET. HAIN’T MADE UP MY MIND!”
“Please don’t feed me on honey and butter, I just can’t stand the taste of honey and butter.”
“THAT’S THE VERY THING I’M GOIN’ TO DO! HONEY AND BUTTER IS ALL YOU’LL GIT!”
So he locked her up in the chicken house, gave her all the honey and butter she could hold. Mutsmag jest loved honey and butter. She got fat in a hurry. He come to get her fin’lly, reached in and grabbed her by the leg, toted her on to the house, says, “NOW I’M GOIN’ TO KEEL YE!”
“How you goin’ to kill me?” Mutsmag asked him.
“DON’T KNOW. HAIN’T MADE UP MY MIND!”
“Please don’t put me in a sack and beat me to death, ’cause I’d howl like a dog, and I’d squall like cats, and my bones ’uld crack and pop like dishes breakin’, and my blood ’uld run and drip like honey.”
“THAT’S THE VERY WAY I’M GOIN’ TO KEEL YE!”
So he got a big sack and tied Mutsmag in it. Went on out to cut him a club. Time he got good and gone Mutsmag took her old knife and give that sack a rip and a-loose it come. Then she sewed it back right quick and put the giant’s old dog in there and as many cats as she could catch and all the old giant’s dishes, and she went and got the biggest pot of honey he had and put hit in, too. Then she went and hid.
The old giant come in directly with a big club—looked like he’d pulled him up a good-sized white oak. Drawed back and lammed into that sack. The dog howled and them cats set in to squallin’. The old giant went to grinnin’.
“O YES! I’LL MAKE YE HOWL LIKE DOGS AND SQUALL LIKE CATS!”
Hit it a few more licks and all them cups and saucers and plates and bowls and pitchers started crackin’ and poppin’.
“O YES! I’LL MAKE YOUR BONES POP AND CRACK LIKE DISHES!”
Beat right on, and directly the honey started dribblin’ out.
“O YES! I’LL MAKE YOUR BLOOD RUN AND DRIP LIKE HONEY!”
So he hit the sack several more licks and then he untied it and went to dump Mutsmag out, and there on the floor was his dog killed, and his cats; and ever’ dish he had in the house all broke up, and honey jest runnin’ all over everything. He was so mad he nearly busted wide open. Throwed down his club and broke and run. Headed right straight for the stable.
But while he was a flailin’ that sack, Mutsmag she’d fin’lly got the rope cut, and had left there a-straddle of that fine white horse and him a-hittin’ ten miles ever’ step. So the old giant looked to see which-a-way they had headed, seen a streak of dust a way off, and he put out. Came to a deep wide river directly, looked across and there was Mutsmag sittin’ on a millrock with a rope through the hole and one end tied around her neck.
“HOW’D YOU GIT OVER THAR?”
“I picked a hole in a rock and tied it around my neck and skeeted the rock across.”
So the old giant hunted him up a great big flat rock, picked a hole in it and put a length of rope through, and tied it to his neck, and when he tried to skip the rock across hit jerked him in, and that was the last anybody ever saw of him.
So Mutsmag went and got back on the horse where she had him hid in the bresh, rode on back to the King and he paid her two more bushels of gold—one for gettin’ his horse and one for gettin’ shet of that old giant.
About midway of Delia’s tale the two big girls had come back, and now Rhody got the jump on everybody with her choice.
“‘Whitebear Whittington’! Please, Deely!” “Give me time to catch my breath, honey. Somebody else tell one. Granny, she knows that.”
“You mean ‘Three Gold Nuts’?” asked Granny.
“That’s it! Tell it!” urged Rhody.
“You tell it, Granny.”
“Go on, Deely. You know it.”
Whitebear Whittington
One time there was a man had three daughters. His wife was dead, and the three girls they kept house for him. And one day he was fixin’ to go to town, so he called his girls, asked ’em what did they want him to bring ’em. The oldest told him, says, “I want a silk dress the color of every bird in the sky.”
The second girl said, “I want you to bring me a silk dress made out of every color in a rainbow.”
The youngest ’u
n she didn’t say anything. So directly he went and asked her didn’t she want him to bring her something too. She studied a minute, says, “All I want is some white roses. If you see a white rosebush anywhere you might break me a basketful.”
Well, he took him a basket of eggs and got on his horse and went on to town. Got all his tradin’ done and started back. Rode on, rode on, come to where there was a thick wilderness of a place, saw a big rosebush ’side the road, full of white roses. So he got off his horse and broke off a few. Thought he heard something behind him, says:
“You break them
and I’ll break you!”
So he stopped, looked around, waited awhile and tried to see what it was spoke, didn’t see anybody nor hear it again, so he broke off some more. Then he heard it real plain—sounded like it was back in the wilderness—
“You break them
and I’ll break you!”
He started to quit that time, but he still couldn’t see anybody or anything, and the prettiest roses were still on the bush, so he reached out his hand to break them off—and that thing said:
“Give me what meets you
first at the gate,
Grandfather Tales Page 4