Grandfather Tales Page 3

  Got down the road a piece, decided she’d take out across the fields so’s not to take any chances on meetin’ up with that old woman. Came to the horse.

  “Good girl! Good girl! Please rub my old sore back. They rode me so hard yesterday, made my old back awful sore. You rub it for me, and I’ll ride ye.”

  “Well, I’m in a hurry, but I reckon I can do that.”

  So she pulled her a big handful of grass and rubbed the old horse good. Then he took her up on his back and rode her plumb to the end of the field. She jumped off and on she went. Came to the cow.

  “Good girl! Good girl! Please milk my old sore bag. They never milked me this mornin’ and my old bag’s a-hurtin’ me so bad. Milk me and you can have some to drink.”

  “Well, I’m sort of in a hurry, but I reckon I can do that much for ye.”

  So she milked the old cow in a little shiny tin bucket was there by the fence. Stripped her good and dry. Had her a drink of milk, and on she went. Came to the peach tree.

  “Good girl! Good girl! Please pull off these sprouts. They’re chokin’ me so bad. You prune me a little and you can have some of my peaches.”

  “Well, now, I really oughtn’t to stop but I reckon I can do it for ye.”

  So she broke off all the sprouts. Then the peach tree says to her, says, “Now, you climb on up here and get all the ripe peaches you want; and if that old woman comes by here, don’t you worry none. I’ll handle her.”

  That girl she hadn’t had nothin’ to eat but ashcakes and water for I don’t know how long and them peaches looked awful good. So she cloomb on up to where she could sit easy-like in the forks of the tree, pulled her off a ripe peach and commenced eatin’.

  Well, the old woman got back, run in the house and hollered for that girl, and when the girl never answered, the old woman run quick and looked up the chimney. Throwed back her hands and commenced slappin’ her skirts and hollerin’ and runnin’ all around inside the house and out, a-lookin’ for that girl’s tracks. Saw which way she left and put out from there a-squallin’:

  “Gallymanders! Gallymanders!

  All my gold and silver’s gone!

  My great long moneypurse!”

  Traced the girl to where the old horse was at—

  “Seen a little gal go by here,

  with a jig and a jag

  and a long leather bag

  and all my gold and silver?”

  “Ma’m?” says the old horse, and the old woman she had to say it all over again.

  “No’m,” says the horse. “Hain’t seen a soul for quite a spell.”

  So on she run—flippity-flop!—and she was commencin’ to get out of breath—

  “Gallymanders! Gallymanders!

  All my gold and silver’s gone! (a-heh!)

  My great long moneypurse!”

  Came to the cow—

  “Seen a little gal go by here,

  with a jig and a jag (heh!)

  and a long leather hag (heh!)

  and all my gold and silver?”

  “Well, now, ma’m,” says the cow, “I been right here all evenin’ and I ain’t seen hardly nobody go by here at all, ma’m.”

  So the old woman run right on—and she was a-givin’ out every step—

  “Gallymanders! Gallymanders! (heh!)

  All my gold and silver’s gone (f!)

  My great long moneypurse! (a-heh-a-heh-a-heh!)”

  Came to the peach tree—

  “Seen a little gal (heh!)

  go by here (heh!)

  with a jig and a jag

  and a long leather bag (a-heh-i-heh!)

  and all my gold and silver? (a-heh-i-heh-i-heh!)”

  “No, ma’m,” says the peach tree. “She didn’t go by here.”

  So the old woman went right on a-loopety-loop!—with her skirts a-draggin’ and her tongue hangin’ out and her a-pantin’ ever’ breath like an old hound dog—

  “Gallymanders! Gallymanders!

  (A -heh-i-heh-i-heh!)

  All my gold and silver’s gone!

  (A-heh-i-heh-i-heh!)

  My great long moneypurse!

  (A—heh—i—heh—i—heh—i—heh!)”

  Ran till she give plumb out. Man came along and found her ’side the road where she’d give out at, put her in his dump-truck where he’d been haulin’ gravel and took her on back to her house, dumped her out by the gate.

  They say she never did try to hire no more girls after that. But I never did hear it told whether she fin’lly looked in the ashes and found her old moneypurse or not. Anyhow, last time I was down there she was still so stingy she wouldn’t eat nothin’ but ashcakes and water.

  Rhody and another big girl gathered up protesting little ones and began sorting out coats and sweaters from the oak chest. As they filed out Rhody turned at the door, “I’m comin’ right back. Don’t nobody tell ‘Whitebear Whittington’ till I get here.”

  “‘Wicked John’! ‘Wicked John’!” insisted several boys.

  “That ain’t no tale for young folks,” said Sarah.

  “Now, Sary, there’s folks like Wicked John in this world, and you know it.” This was from Granny.

  Three boys came from their distant places on the bed and established themselves squarely in front of Old Rob, with their backs to the fire. Two other little girls had claimed the old man’s lap as soon as the first two had left with Rhody.

  “Kel here ought to be tellin’ this ’un. He can tell it better’n me; he learned it to me.”

  “I ain’t got it straight in my mind now,” said Uncle Kel, “especially since you put in all that new stuff about Saint Peter. You tell it.”

  “I learned that Saint Peter part from Tom here.—Well, anyhow—”

  Wicked John and the Devil

  One time there was an old blacksmith that folks called Wicked John. They say he was right mean: never would join the church, never did go to meetin’, always laughed about folks gettin’ saved and bein’ baptized and sech. One thing about him, though, mean as he was, he always did treat a stranger right. And one mornin’ a old beggar came along: crippled up, walkin’ on two sticks, all bent over with rheumatism, looked right tired and hungry-like. Stood there in the door, and Wicked John fin’lly hollered at him, says, “Come on in! Whyn’t ye come on in and sit down?” So the old beggar he heaved over the doorsill, sat down on it, and they talked a while. Wicked John he kept right on workin’, talkin’ big, and directly he throwed his hammer down and went to the house. Come back with a big plate of vittles: boiled sweet potato, big chunk of ham-meat, greens, beans, big slice of cake, and a glass of sweet milk. Says, “Here, old man! You might make out with these rations—if there’s anything here you can eat.”

  The old beggar thanked him and started in eatin’, and old John he went on with his work. Well, he was a-hammerin’ around over there, sort of watchin’ the beggar man, and pretty soon he saw him lay that plate and the glass to one side and start to get up. He let them two sticks fall to the ground and commenced straightenin’ up, straightenin’ up, and all the kinks come out of him, till the next thing Wicked John knowed, a big stout-lookin’ man was fared up there in the door: had a long white beard and white hair, white robe right down to his feet, and a big key in his hand. Old John had done dropped his hammer and was a-standin’ there with his mouth hangin’ open and his eyes popped out. So the old man says to him, says, “Well, John, I’m Saint Peter. Yes, that’s who I am, and once every year I walk the earth to see can I find any decent folks left down here, and the first man treats me right I always give him three wishes. So you can just go ahead now and take your three wishes. Anything you’ve a mind to, you can just wish for it and hit’ll be that-a-way.”

  Wicked John looked over there at Saint Peter sort of grinnin’ like he didn’t think it was really so, says, “Well, Peter, you better let me study on it a minute. Three wishes. Aaa Lord!”

  Looked around, started wishin’ on the first thing popped into his head. He didn�
��t care!

  “Well now, I’ve got a fine old high-back rockin’ chair there by the door, and when I get my work done up I like to sit in my rocker; but, don’t you know, every day nearly, blame if there ain’t somebody done gone and got there ahead of me—one of these loafers hangs around in here of a evenin’.

  Makes me mad! And I just wish:—that anybody sits in my old rocker would have to stay there and rock right on till I let ’em get up.

  “Aaa Lord!—Lemme see now.—Well, there’s my old sledge hammer. It’s these blame boys come in here and get to messin’ with it, take it out there across the road, see how big a rock they can bust; and—con-found!—if I don’t have to go out there ever’ time I need it and hunt for it where them feisty boys have done gone and dropped it down in the grass somewhere. And I jest wish:—that anybody teches my sledge hammer would have to pound with it, and keep right on a-poundin’ till I let ’em stop.”

  Well, Saint Peter he looked kind of sorry like he thought old John was a-wastin’ his wishes pretty bad, but that old blacksmith he was mean, like I said, just didn’t care about nothin’ or nobody. Looked around at Saint Peter right mischievous-like, grinned sort of devilish, says, “One more wish, huh? Well, all right. Now:—I got a fine thornbush jest outside the door there, fire bush, gets full of red blooms real early in the spring of the year; and I like my old fire thorn, but—con-found!—ever’body comes here to get their horses shoed, blame if they don’t tromple all over that bush, back their wagons into it, break it down; and—Aaa Lord!—these highfalutin’ folks comes over the mountain a-fox-huntin’—Humph! fox-huntin’ in red coats!—looks like they jest got to have ridin’ switches off my bush, break off ridin’ switches ever’ time they pass. And I jest wish:—anybody teches my fire thorn, it ’uld catch ’em and hold ’em right down in the middle of all them stickers till I let ’em out.”

  Well, Saint Peter he stepped over the doorsill and he was gone from there and Wicked John couldn’t tell which-a-way he went nor nothin’.

  So that old blacksmith he kept on blacksmithin’ in his blacksmith shop, and it wasn’t long till John and his old woman they got to fussin’. Well, she was jawin’ at him and jawin’ at him, and he jawed right back at her, till fin’lly she told him, says, “The Devil take ye anyhow, old man! I jest wish he would!”

  So that day the old man was a-workin’ in his shop, looked up and there was a little devil a-standin’ in the door, says, “Daddy said he’d take ye now. Said for me to bring ye right on back.”

  “All right, son. I’ll be ready to go with ye in jest a few more licks. Reckon you can let me finish this horseshoe. Come on in. I’ll not be but a minute or two.”

  Well, the little devil he stepped over in the shop, hung around awhile, and then he went straight and sat down in that old highback rockin’ chair, commenced rockin’. Wicked John he finished the horseshoe, soused it in the coolin’ tub, throwed it on the ground and picked him up another’n.

  “Hey, old man! You said jest finish that one!” And he tried to get out of that rocker, but the more he tried to get up the worse that old chair rocked him, till that little devil’s head was just a-goin’ whammity-bang! against the chairback. And fin’lly he got to beggin’ and hollerin’ for Wicked John to let him go.

  “All right. I’ll let ye go if you get on out of here and not bother me no more.”

  So the little devil said yes, he’d go, and when the chair quit rockin’, he jumped out of it and—a-whippity-cut! out the door he flew.

  Well, not long after that the old woman she lit into the old man again about somethin’ or other; and they was a-havin’ it! She was just a-fussin’, and he was just a-laughin’ at her, till fin’lly she stomped around, says, “I’ll jest tell ye, old man! The Devil can have ye right now for all I care! He shore can! He can send for ye and take ye off from here, and the sooner the better. That’s all there are to it now!” Stomped on out to the kitchen, slammed the door.

  So that day another little devil come to the door of the shop, little bigger’n the first ’un, says, “Come on, old man. Daddy sent me for ye. Said for me not to wait for nothin’, bring ye right on back. So come on now, and we’ll go.”

  “All right, son. Yes, in-deed. I’m jest about ready. Come in, and I know you’ll let me hit a few more licks on this wagon-tire. I’m bound to finish hit ’fore we start.”

  Well, that little devil he come on inside the shop, got to hangin’ around lookin’ at what old John was doin’, seen he was havin’ it kind of awkward the way he had to hold on to that wagon tire and beat it with one hand, says, “Here, old man, you hold it and let me beat it. We got to hurry or Daddy’ll get after me for stayin’ so long.”—Picked up that old sledge hammer layin’ there on the ground, started in poundin’.

  So Wicked John he held the wagon tire up and turned it where he wanted it fixed, and when it was done he pulled it out from under the hammer between licks, set it against the wall. And when the little devil tried to let go the hammer handle, he just stuck to it and hit a-poundin’ right on. Well, the way the old sledge swung that little devil around in there, a-jerkin’ him. up and down with his legs a-flyin’ ever’ which-a-way—hit was a sight in this world! So he got to beggin’, “Please let me go! Please, sir! Make this thing turn loose of me!”

  “All right. I’ll let ye go if you get on out of here and don’t never come back. Ye hear?”

  The little devil said yes, he heard and no, he’d not be back never no more; and then he fell off the hammer-handle and out the door he streaked.

  Well, a few days after that the old woman she started raisin’ another racket. They hadn’t spoke many words ’fore she r’ared back and stuck her hands on her hips, hollered at him, says, “Old man! I jest wish—the puore—old—Devil himself would come on and git ye! I shore do! Now you get on out of here ’fore I knock ye in the head with this stick of firewood!”

  So old John he dodged the stick of wood and laughed at the old lady, and went on out to his shop, and—sure enough—he hadn’t any more’n got started workin’ ’fore he looked up and there standin’ in the door was the Old Boy himself, with his horns and his tail and that old cow’s foot of his’n propped up on the sill, says, “COME ON NOW, OLD MAN! AND I AIN’T A-GOIN’ TO TAKE NO FOOLISHNESS OFF YE NEITHER!”

  “Yes, sir! No, sir! I’m ready to go, mister, right now. I jest got to finish sharpenin’ this mattick. Promised a man I’d get it done first thing this mornin’. Come on in and sit down.”

  “NO! I’LL NOT SIT IN NO CHAIR OF YOUR’N!”

  “All right, sir. All right. We’ll be ready to go quicker’n you can turn around if you’d jest give this mattick blade a lick or two while I hold it here. There’s the sledge hammer leanin’ there on the doorsill.”

  “NO! I AIN’T GOIN’ TO TECH NO SLEDGE HAMMER!” says the old Devil. Says, “YOU DONE MADE ME MAD ENOUGH ALREADY, OLD MAN! I DIDN’T LIKE A BIT THE WAY YOU DONE MY BOYS, AND I’M A-TAKIN’ YOU OFF FROM HERE RIGHT NOW. YOU HEARD ME!”

  And the old Devil reached in and grabbed Wicked John by the back of his collar, started draggin’ him out. So old John he started in fightin’: punchin’, knockin’, beatin’, poundin’, scratchin’, kickin’, bitin’. They had several rounds there just outside the door, made the old Devil awful mad, says, “CONFOUND YE, OLD MAN! I’M GOIN’ TO LICK THE HIDE OFF YOU RIGHT NOW. JEST SEE IF I DON’T—WHERE’LL I GET ME A SWITCH?”

  The old Devil looked around and reached for that bush, and time he touched it, hit grabbed him and wropped around him, jerked him headforemost right down in the middle of that bush where them thorns was the thickest. The old Devil he tried to get loose but the more he thrashed around in there, the worse he got scratched up till fin’lly he just stayed right still, with his legs a-stickin’ out the top of the bush.

  “Mister?”

  “What ye want?”

  “Please, sir, let me out of here.”

  “All right. I’ll let ye go on one condition:—you, and none of
your boys, don’t none of ye never come up here a-botherin’ me no more. Ye hear? You promise me that and I might let ye go.”

  “Heck yes, I’ll promise,” says the old Devil. “I’ll not come, and I’ll not send nobody neither—not never no more.”

  So the bush turned him loose, and sech a kickin’ up dust you never did see. The Old Boy left there and he wasn’t moseyin’ neither.

  Well, Wicked John he kept on blacksmithin’ and he wasn’t bothered by no more devils. And after a long time he died and went on up to the pearly gates. When he got there he knocked, and Saint Peter opened up a little crack, looked out, says, “Oh, it’s you, is it? What ye want?”

  “Well,” old John told him, “I thought I might stand some little show of gettin’ in up here.”

  “You? Why, old man, don’t you know we got your record in yonder? I’ll tell ye right now: I was lookin’ at your accounts just the other day; and on the credit side—yes—you have a few entries ’way up at the top of the page; but over on the other side—why, man! hit’s filled up right down to the bottom line. There hain’t a chance in the world of your gettin’ in this place.” And Saint Peter started shuttin’ the gates to.