Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the South. Sarah Johnson Cocke
side appealing to Willis.
“He git much uv hit es hit take ter buy pizen ter make er conjur pill ter kill him wid.”
“Can you kill a hant?” he asked incredulously.
“Yer can’t kill ’em ’zackly, but yer kin run ’em inter sum uth’r creet’r, dat is ef de conjur pill wurk.”
“Mammy,” began both children at once.
“Hole on—jes one ax at er time—let de lady have de fus time, caze you’se Mammy’s man. Now den, ax yer sayso, Ma’y Van.”
“Did Miss Gully turn to a hen?”
“She done bin eat up long ergo ef she did,” then turning to Willis, “Whut’s Mammy’s man got ter ax?”
“I want to know how Abe turned to a goose.”
“Abe didn’t hatt’r turn ter no goose ertall, caze de Lawd done alreddy born’d him er goose.—Come on now, an’ less play in de yard.”
III
JACK O’ LANTERN AND THE GLOW WORM
“Mammy, you cut m’ Jack-my-Lantern for me.” Willis was struggling to carve features in a huge pumpkin.
“I tole yer ter let Zeek make dat foolish lookin’ thing,” grumbled Phyllis, faithfully striving however to cut the pumpkin according to Willis’s instructions.
“Make Mary Van one too,” he demanded.
“I got one,” and Mary Van blew into the kitchen door with a gust of chilly wind, “and Papa’s made a pretty one for you too, Willis—ain’t you glad?”
“Whut you all think dem Jacky-Lanterns is enyhow?” Phyllis asked with an air of mystery.
“They are—” Willis hesitated, “they are—funny pretties,” he finished.
“Dey ain’ nuthin’ funny ’bout er show nuff Jack-my-Lantern, I kin tell yer dat fur sartin an’ sho!” Her face assumed a grave expression, “and—take keer, boy, Kitty’ll spill hot greese on yer,” making a dive at Willis in time to save the cook from stumbling. “Come on out er dis hyah kitchen—‘tain’ no place fur chillun no how.”
“Mammy, less go over to Mary Van’s and get m’ Jack-my-Lantern,” coaxed Willis, as Phyllis directed the way toward the nursery.
“Nor, yer doan need hit tell dark. Jack-my-Lanterns doan come out ’cep’in’ at night. Leastways fokes doan see em.”
“Jack-my-Lanterns ain’t anything but big old pumpkins, are they, Mammy Phyllis?” Mary Van asked to reassure herself.
“Dat dey is,” the old nurse’s expression grew fearful and cunning. “Dey’s de wuss sorter hants—dat’s whut dey is.”
This ended the contention of going to Mary Van’s.
“You memb’rs,” she began after an ominous silence, “ole man Gully’s hant, doan yer?”
“Old Langshan rooster, Mammy?” Willis whispered.
“Dat’s de ve’y hant—yas suh—ole lady Gully ain’t skeercely in her grave ’fo’ dat rooster hant start ter gwine down in de cellar—an’ peckin’ ’roun’ like he huntin’ fur sumthin’.
“Abe tell de boys he seen de ole man take er bag er gole down dar onct, an’ he ’speck old Langshan know whar he berry hit—but howsumev’r dat is—one thing wus sho’—dat rooster peck in one cornder er dat celler, tell dem boys pis’n him.”
The children moved closer to Phyllis. “Mammy, did he come back in another rooster?”
“No, ma’m, he didn’t—he say he nuv’r speck ter come back in no mo’ creeturs ter git pis’n’d ergin. ‘De nex’ time I comes back,’ sez he, ‘hit’s gwine be in sumthin’ nuth’r fokes can’t projick none er der dev’ment wid.’ Ahah—an’ yer knows whut dat is, doan yer?”
Both little heads shook a trembling negative.
“Well, hit’s er Jack-my-lantern!” said Phyllis, and at her solemn statement the children looked aghast.
“HEP! HEP!—SOMEBODY COME HOPE ME!”
“Yas, ma’m—an yas, suh,” she bowed to each in turn, “he come back straight es he kin float hissef ter de swamp down yond’r on yo’ granpa’s rice plantation.” She waited for this to be entirely absorbed by her eager little listeners, then added: “I seen ’em m’sef winkin’, an’ blinkin’ all erbout dar,” suiting facial contortions to her words.
“One day Miss Gully’s bigges’ boy went down in de cell’r ter git some tat’rs fur dinn’r, an’ fus’ thing yer know he start ter yellin’ ‘Hep! hep!—Somebody come hope me!’
“Abe an’ de uth’r boys wint down dar, an’ seed de boy layin’ flat on de floo’ whar de hant thow’d him—”
“Mammy, lemme get in your lap,” begged Mary Van, while Willis jumped on one of her knees. Mary Van followed suit, and before Phyllis could reply they had cuddled upon her, almost taking her breath.
“Sakes erlive! you all gittin’ ’way wid me wusser’n dem hants done de Gully boys.”
“Go on, Mammy,” they both urged.
“Well, Abe an’ de uth’r two boys fotch him up sta’rs an’ lay him on his ma’s baid. Dey lef’ him er minute ter go git some cam’fer, an’ when dey come back, dar sot er crow on de haid er de baid tellin’ de boy:
“ ‘Go foll’r de light,
Don’ feer ter fight,
An’ yer’ll git er bag er gole!’
“He git up, he do, an’ go out de do’, but hit’s s’ dark he tell de crow he can’t see how ter git erlong. Jes den Jacky-Lantern flash up an’ say:
“ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,
I got de money.’
“De boy run up ter de light, but hit go out jes es he git clost up ter hit. He say: ‘Hole on dar, whar yer takin’ me?’ Jacky-Lantern say
“ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,
I got de money.’
“Johnny Squinch Owel fly b’fo’ him an’ say:
“ ‘Unch-oo, unch-oo,
Doanchu go, doanchu go!’
“Boy tell him, ‘Git out’n m’ way, Johnny, I’m atter money—I ain’ got no time ter talk ter you.’
“Johnny, he keep er foll’rin’ de boy an’ holl’r:
“ ‘Unch-oo, unch-oo,
Doanchu go, doanchu go.’
“Jacky-Lantern light up ergin, an’ de boy start up runnin’. ‘I’ll git yer dis time,’ he say; but Jacky-Lantern drap down in de groun’ ev’y time he git enywhars near ’bouts him, an’ Willie Wisp pop up way ov’r de uth’r side.”
“Who was Willie Wisp, Mammy?”
“He wus er nuth’r hant dat tak’n up wid ole man Gully. When de boy see Jacky-Lantern pop up hyah, an’ Willie Wisp pop up dar—he jump fus’ dis erway,