Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the South. Sarah Johnson Cocke

Bypaths in Dixie: Folk Tales of the South - Sarah Johnson Cocke


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er plenty er gole in de cell’r—come on back an’ hope dig hit out.’

      “ ‘I doan want no lit’le gole you fines at home,’ sez Bill.

      “Abe he holl’r back ergin, ‘Please, suh, come back, dar’s er heap mo’ hyah dan you kin git dar.’

      “But he so tie’d runnin’ fus’ atter Jacky-Lantern, an’ den atter Willie Wisp, dat he hatt’r stop an’ blow er lit’le. Abe an’ de boys dey kotch up wid him, an’ dey tussels consid’rble tryin’ ter git him back, but dat boy Bill skuffle scand’lus. He thow ev’y one uv ’em flat in de mud.

      “ ‘You all ain’ nuthin’ but er passel er gooses,’ he say, ‘talkin’ ’bout huntin’ gole at home. Don’t yer know yer got ter fight an’ scratch, an’ run, an’ keep er gwine tell yer gits ter whar dese hyah gol’ lights lives—den yer fines de bag er gole?’

      “Fo’ de boys an’ Abe kin git dersefs up of’n de groun’ whar Bill knock ’em, Bill wus gwine like er race hoss atter Jacky-Lantern. Bimeby de groun’ ’gun ter git pow’ful sof’, an’ Bill, his foots ’gun ter sink down tur’bul. He can’t go fas’ no mo’—I tell yer de trufe, hit wus all Bill cud do ter pull hisse’f erlong.”

      “What was the matter with Bill, Mammy Phyllis?” whispered Mary Van.

      “He in de swamp, honey, whar de groun’ wus mirey—an’ hit wus full er hants too. Bill feel er hot flash pass him, an’ er Jacky-Lantern’d pop up—hyah come ernuth’r hot sumthin nuth’r, an’ Willie Wisp ’u’d pop up right ’long side er him.

      “Bill say, ‘Is dis whar yer lives?’

      “Jacky say:

      “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money.’

      “Johnny Squinch hoot up in de tree: ‘Unch-oo, Doanchu go.’

      “Brer Bull Frog holl’r: ‘Go back, go back.’

      “Ole lady Gully’s hant come up in er big ball er light, an’ she moan ter Bill:

      “ ‘Foll’r yer track,

       Ef yer wanter git back.’

      “Bill say: ‘Who is you?’

      “Miss Gully say:

      “ ‘I’m yo’ Mar—

       Doan go so far.’

      “Bill say, ‘I done start atter dis gole, an’ I’m gwine see de race out.’

      “Jacky-Lantern an’ Willie Wisp, an’ all de res’ er de bad hants down in de swamp jes er poppin’ up ev’y which er way, an’ all uv ’em holl’r:

      “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money!’

       “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money.’

      “Bill he dunno which way ter go, so he ax ’em: ‘Which one got de money sho nuf?’ But dey keeps er bobbin’ up:

      “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money.’

       “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money.’

      tell Bill say ter hissef: ‘I’m gwine foll’r de one look like he got de mostes.’ He take er step dis er way, an’ he sink down so fur dat he pull, an’ pull, an’ pull, tell he pull his shoe off. Some mo’ Jackys calls him way ov’r yond’r:

      “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money.’

       “ ‘Foll’r me, sonny,

       I got de money.’

      “So he try ter take er long step ov’r ter dem, but he sink so fur dis time dat he pull, an’ pull, an’ pull, an’ pull, but he can’ git his foots up.

      “His ma’s hant ris’ up den, an’ bus’ out cryin’:

      “ ‘Yer done los’ yer sole,

       An’ yer ain’ got de gol’.’

       “ ‘Yer done los’ yer sole,

       An’ yer ain’ got de gol’.’

      “Bill he keep tryin’ ter pull hisse’f up, but he done sink down ter his gallus straps.”

      “Please, Mam, pull him out, p-l-e-a-s-e,” pleaded the little girl.

      “Doan yer worry yose’f, his ma’s wid dat boy.”

      “Yes, but she’s only a spirit.”

      “Doan keer ef she is er hant, she’s his ma—an’ de Lawd nuv’r do let dat part die out in no ’ooman. Well, dar wus Bill jes er sinkin’ an’ er sinkin’—”

      “But he wusn’t any deeper than his waist, you said, Mammy,” begged Mary Van.

      “He bleeg ter be er lit’le deep’r by dis time, but his ma wus cryin’ an’ beggin’ de Lawd so hard ter spar’ de boy an’ give him er-nuth’r chanct, dat er big thorney bush grow up quick ’long side er Bill an’ retch out hits arms—an’ de thorney part stick right thu Bill’s close, so Jacky-Lantern, an’ Willie Wisp an’ de res’ er de bad hants can’t pull ’im no fur’r. Bill ’gun ter see dat he wus hangin’ ov’r torment, an’ dat wus de place de gole he bin runnin’ atter stay, so he rech out an’ grab de thorney bush, he did, an’ de blood come tricklin’ down on his han’s whar de briers stick him, but his ma’s speeret come out on de thorney bush in er big, big, big ole glow wurm, an’ she say:

      “ ‘Hole fas’,

       Hit can’ las’.’

       “ ‘Hole fas’,

       Hit can’ las’.’

      “He notice den dat all de uth’r lights poppin’ up an’ poppin’ out, an’ hoppin’ erbout, but de glow wurm’s light wus studdy.”

      “Did Bill know it was his mama?” Bill’s safety was uppermost in Mary Van’s mind now.

      “He doan ’zackly know hit, but he think he do, caze he know nobody ain’ gwine stick ter him atter dey’s in heb’n cep’n his ma. Darfo’ he keep his eye on de glow wurm, he do. He know dat studdy light wus his ma’s speeret.”

      “Don’t let his hands bleed any more, Mammy,” she begged.

      “Doan yer git too skeer’d er de blood uv ’pentence, chile. Bill done sin, an’ he got ter be born’d ergin, thu suf’in an’ mis’ry. Howsumev’r he foll’rin’ de studdy light er dat glow wurm, so ’tain’ long ’fo’ she show him er tree on t’oth’r side dat wus smooth an’ strong, an’ Bill tu’n loose er de bush an’ grab holt er de tree—Bob Wind he come an’ hope de tree ter lif’ Bill up—an’ Bob give one er ole man Harricane’s blows dat take Bill clean out’n de mirey clay, an’ lan’ him on de rock.”

      “Was he clear out of the swamp?”

      “And where was his mama?” both children pressed their questions.

      “He wusn’t clean out, but he wus clost on ter de aige—all he need is er lit’le mo’ uv his ma’s studdy light ter show him de way home—an’ he got hit too, fur dar she wus by him on de rock, whin he come thu. She crawl ’long mouty slow b’fo’ him, caze Bill wus in er pow’ful bad fix, but her light ain’ flick’r, an’ hit keep bright an’ studdy, an’ bimeby atter er long time she lan’ him at home safe an’ soun’.”

      “How could it take


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