Chapter III: Part 3

“I gwine tame him—I gwine tame Jezrul! He gwine feel de toof er de big green sarpint. He gwine be hot in de mouf an’ cole in de belly. I lay I gwine l’arn him!”

Slowly the work grew under the clumsy, eager fingers, and the sunbeams were shining through the chinks before she hid the little image of Jezrul in a crevice by the chimney.

* * * * *

All that day Crecy moped alone in the cabin; she had been dismissed from the “Big House” for nodding over her work, and Jezrul had not even interceded; but there was some comfort in it all, for she was freed from the humiliating comment of the house negroes and the despised shoes had been left behind, though the loneliness was oppressive, for the Christmas festivities were at their height. Still keeping her fast, for she had eaten nothing since the day before, she stirred the coals upon the hearth, whipping her wrath into a frenzy; and as she heard the voice of Susanne in the quarters and Jezrul’s laugh that followed, she thrust the image through with a toasting-fork and held it over the flame.

“Burn! burn!” she hissed. “Burn wid de fires dat’s er-eatin’ out dese in’ards,—’case I gwine ter tame you, Jezrul! Burn, I say!” And putting out the blaze that started, she held the thing over the coals again. “Hit ’ll retch yo’ heart, an’ sizzle hit lack de fires er de debil, ’case you gwine ter be mine, Jezrul!”

Day after day Crecy tortured the little image, now sticking it full of pins, now scorching it again, but always taking the precaution not to utterly destroy it—“’case he cain’t die—’case he’s mine,” she muttered.

Though night after night the festivities went on, Susanne coquetted and Jezrul laughed, and Crecy was forgotten.

But New-Year’s Day had filled the quarters with sensation, and dozens of ears were tingling with the news.

Old Marse had been giving a stag dinner to the judge of the circuit and the attorney-general. They had been sitting at table for nearly three hours, and Jezrul, who adored such great personages, was in his glory; but just as he was bringing in the cigars and liqueurs with his usual flourish upon such occasions, he fell in a fit at Old Marse’s feet. Such a thing as a ripple in the course of one of Old Marse’s dinner-parties had never occurred before; the Colonel was beside himself, for he was helpless without Jezrul.

Jezrul was a long time in coming round, and in the confusion Susanne threw her apron over her head and went into hysterics, as the knowing ones whispered; while down in her cabin alone, with the little image stuck full of pins and pressed close against her breast, Crecy gave a fiendish yell, for she believed that the spell she had set, was working at last. With ghoulish delight she tortured the miserable doll; and day after day, fearful and livid with superstition, but still unwilling to give up Susanne, Jezrul fell to the floor under the strange delusion; and at last, too ill even to creep up to the house, he begged so piteously for the curse to be removed, that the Colonel thought that he was wandering in a fever, and alternately bled him to remove the engorgement and stimulated to remedy the depletion, until he dragged about, dodging and starting at the casting of his own shadow.

* * * * *

Susanne was comforting in these dark days, and he could not give her up, for her long slender hands were as ready as her nimble feet; and the wiseacres said that Susanne would marry Jezrul if he ever got well, which now seemed very unlikely. But a pair of great wide eyes were watching the ministrations furtively and jealously, and another little image, a smaller one in petticoats, appeared in the cabin.

* * * * *

There was plenty of gossip in the Quarters, beside the blazing pine knots, over the sweet-potatoes and chestnuts roasting in the ashes, for though the fits were coming upon Jezrul harder than ever, he had suddenly refused to let Susanne even come near him, and Maumer Belle touched her cunger knowingly, and said that she had seen Jezrul turn away from Susanne in positive loathing, for all that he had loved her so; and Susanne, in mortification, finding no sympathy among the negroes, had gone to the Madame, but Ole Miss calmly told Susanne that Jezrul was crazy—“as crazy as a loon,” said Ole Miss.

* * * * *

“Dat’s nuffin,” said Unc Ephraim, throwing his blazing cob into the fire and adjusting another. “Dat’s on’y what we gotter ’spec’, ’case hit’s de dark er de moon now, an’ hit’s nuffin but er hoodoo dat ail Jezrul, an’ Crecy she sho at de bottom uv hit all. Maumer Belle, yo’ knows yo’ tole Lemuel dat Crecy gwine ter be er hoodoo, ’fore she were free day ole.”

“Um, um,” grunted Maumer. “An’ las’ night my Sam he rid fru de parster, er-sarchin’ fur de muel colt dat git out somers, an’ he say dat de hoodoos was er-dancin’ ergin in de big ditch; an’ sech er dance! an’ Crecy were wid ’em. Crecy was er-swingin’ dem shells ergin, an’, Sam say, were er-scatterin’ ashes ober her head, too, an’ putty nigh start naked, lack she were de odder night, an’ I sho dun’no’ what Lem mean fur ter let dat gal take on so; but yo’ min’ my words, ’case I knows what I’s er-tellin’ yo’, dat mean dat Jezrul gwine ter take Crecy back ’fore he git outen dis. Hain’t no common yarb truck ner teas gwine ter do Jezrul any good, ’case Crecy sho tamin’ uv him.”

There was a thoughtful silence and a steady gazing into the fire, when a hoarse scream brought the gossipers to their feet.

“Dat’s Jezrul,” whispered Maumer Belle, “an’ his voice soun’ sorter nat’rul.”

The night was very dark, and the sick man had fallen in front of his cabin, but by the uncertain flare of the hastily lighted torches the watchers could see Crecy down upon her knees beside him, and the willowy form of Susanne scurrying away into the shadow.

“Take hit off! take hit off!” he moaned. “I’s er dyin’ man, but I lubs on’y you, Crecy!”

The teeth of the girl glistened in the torchlight.

“Fur good?”

“Fur good.” It was only a whisper, but it was an earnest, solemn truth.

Her right arm was around his neck, but her left hand was pressing into his the little images of Susanne and himself.

“Come inter de cabin an’ burn ’em wid you’ own han’, honey, ’case dat ’ll make yo’ well!” Crecy rose and led the way, and Jezrul meekly followed, for Jezrul was “tamed.”

DARK ER DE MOON

Abijah was a hoodoo; moreover, he had the reputation, over a wide stretch of territory, of having the evil or Judas eye, as it was called among the negroes, which gave him a power over them all the year round, which was only claimed by the first exhorter during “Big Meetin’.”

No journey was ever undertaken, no new work begun, in fact, nothing of importance was ever planned by the negroes without first consulting Uncle ’Jah, who spoke as an oracle.

His fame extended even to the poor whites of the section who had never owned a slave, and many were the potions for healing and philters for unrequited love, that passed from Uncle ’Jah’s hands for a small consideration.

Uncle ’Jah also told the stars, and blended the inherited African rites most unreservedly with the Indian traditions and his idea of the white man’s religious ceremonials.

Of course there were other hoodoos on the place, for what plantation had them not? but they were all lesser lights whose radiance paled before the effulgence of the leading spirit.

Uncle ’Jah added to his dignities and honors the fact of having been born free. The story ran, that his mother was a princess in her own country, having been stolen by traders at an early age, and in the home of her adoption her faithfulness and tender care won the sympathy of her invalid mistress, who was pleased to give her freedom as a reward.

She had never left the plantation, for a humble romance followed, and the free woman became the wife of a slave.

By “Ole Miss’s” will in the olden time her children were to be free from their birth, and Abijah, the seventh son of the seventh son, though living, as his father had done, on the plantation, was free to come and go, and received wages for his labor when he chose to work.

But Abijah was gathered to his fathers long ago, and many were the lamentations when he passed away. As the passing of a dusky Mohammed, marvels were expected, and great were the wonders and happenings on his burial night, for, like his aforesaid predecessor, he planned his own funeral, and he decreed that the burial should occur at night.

It was said that everything had come to him in the dark of the moon; it was dark when he was born, and dark when he died; so they buried him in the midst of the tall bracken, whose swaying plumes cast weird and grotesque shadows by the light of the flickering pine torches.

The exhorters were holding their services at the meeting-ground, and would not officiate, as they deemed the burial unholy; but the mass of negroes, who knew the work of Abijah, were afraid that his ghost would walk, and attended for the laying of his spirit; and all but the torch-bearers prostrated themselves low upon the ground, while the hoodoos waved their arms, as the coffin was lowered, and forbade the spirit’s return to earthly habitations; then bitter herbs and Abijah’s drinking-cup were thrown in before the grave was filled.

* * * * *

As has been said, the passing of Abijah happened many years ago, and now in the third and fourth generations his fame had grown even to that of a dusky god.

So there were not wanting those who, through the mists of time and forgetfulness, attributed to him supernatural powers, a fearless handling of the forces of good and evil, even a personal exorcism of the devil—that old-fashioned devil who donned such familiar forms upon occasion.

Of course such a devil is entirely out of date, but in that long ago there was a certain little maid to whom these devil stories, forbidden fruit though they were, gave the most unalloyed delight.

They were told at night when the trundle-bed was rolled out and the little toes were toasting by the fire, and sometimes even, it is to be feared, the “Now I lay me” was rather hastily said, that the story might be resumed; later, perhaps, an anxious mother wondered why the little one tossed so restlessly, but every genuine child has been duly “scared to death once upon a time,” and so had the little maid.

* * * * *

Through the tangles of the past a picture rises, though the Scheherazade of the nursery has passed away, the voice comes no more to the childish ears, for the little maid too is gone; perhaps the stories are half forgotten, but a word, a thought, stirs the pulse of memory.

“Tell a devil tale, Ellen.”

“Naw, I hain’t gwine tell you ’n’ Charlie no mo’ devil tales.”

“Please, Ellen, we’ll go to sleep in two minutes if you will.”

“Tell about Uncle ’Jah, the devil, and the dark of the moon.”

“I hain’t gwine tell hit—Miss ’Tishy say you git skeered an’ don’ go ter sleep, an’ I hain’t gwine tell ’em ter yo’ no mo’.”

“Oh, Ellen, yes, we will; they don’t scare us. We’ll get right in bed and listen, and by the time you are through we’ll be asleep. Mamma won’t care.”

“But she do keer; she say you mustn’t heah ’em no mo’. Dey gibs her de horrors.”

“Go on, Ellen. She was just afraid that we’d be scared in the night, but we are too big for that now. Go on about the devil and Uncle ’Jah.”

“Miss ’Tishy be mighty mad!”

“But we won’t tell her. Her mammy used to tell her those tales when she was little; she said so.”

“An’ yo’ won’t tell yo’ maw?”

“No, we won’t tell her.”

“Yo’ sho’ yo’ won’t tell?”

“Cross my heart and body, we won’t, Ellen!”

* * * * *

“Well, one time dey hab er powerful Big Meetin’ on de place whar Unc’ ’Jah lib, an’ dar was er mighty prophesyin’ an’ ’zortin’ ’count er hit.

“Dey was er-prophesyin’ ’bout dis an’ prophesyin’ ’bout dat, but dar wa’n’t many sinners got up twel er stranger kim up an’ sot inter prophesyin’, an’ den sech er gittin’ erbout yo’ nebber did see; dar wa’n’t ’nough benches fur de mo’ners, an’ dey des laid down in de straw.

“Some uv ’em ’low de stars gwine fall ergin; an’ some uv ’em ’low de stars hain’t gwine fall, but de pest’_lence_ er kimmin’; an’ some ’low de pest’_lence_ ain’ kimmin’, but dey gwine hab er rain er sarpents; but de stranger he ’zort an’ prophesy louder an’ longer, an’ he ’low dat arter de Big Meetin’, de debil gwine be loose on de place an’ gwine take de form uv er sarpent, er tarrypin, er man, an’ er fly, an’ he gwine pester mightily de chillen er de promus; but de sarpent dey kin shoot, de tarrypin dey kin kill, an’ de man dey kin see, but hit gwine ter be mighty hard ter ketch up wid de fly, specuil in fly-time, ’case de debil choose de innercentest house-fly he kin fin’.

“But de stranger say de debil do de mos’ tore-down things es er fly, ’case he kin go ever’whar, an’ walk on de ceiling top side down des er-seein’ things dat’s hid, an’ he kin git erroun’ faster ’n de man, an’ fas’ ergin es de sarpent, an’ er hundred times es fas’ es de tarrypin. He taken de tarrypin so’s ter git de ’scusin’ er movin’ slow. Well, Unc’ ’Jah he don’ pay no ’tention ter de prophesyin’ an’ de churchin’, ’case he do he own prophesyin’ an’ workin’, so he des lay low an’ keep still.

“‘Bout dat time Unc’ ’Jah’s boy Rube he go co’tin’ de putties’ nigger gal dat ebber were borned; but she were unner conviction at de Big Meetin’, an’ don’ ’pear ter take no notice er Rube, but she like him powerful, unbeknownst.

“Oh, but she were putty! an’ she were er house-nigger, an’ w’ar finer close dan t’others, an’ sot an’ sew right by her Ole Miss.

“Well, Rube he savin’ uv he wedges, an’ he think he ax Ole Marse mought he buy her, arter dey marries, fur hit ’pear lack dey gwine ter marry arter de Big Meetin’, ’case Rube he were mighty lack he Mammy, an’ all de gals was plum sot on him. Well, Unc’ ’Jah don’ ’pear ter take no notice, ’case he were er-workin’ on he Mammy, who were mighty po’ly, des er-draggin’ one foot an’ totin’ t’other, twel sumpen ’pear ter happen ter Rube’s gal, an’ den Unc’ ’Jah he ’pear ter des wake up.

“Hit happin dis way: ’Bout de time de Big Meetin’ ober dar kim er stranger in de Quarters dat taken er powerful shine ter de gal, an’ he allus kim in de night, an’ walk an’ talk wid de gal er little erway fum t’others.

“Well, dat gal she show him her putty teef, an’ laugh an’ jeck her putty head erbout, but she thinkin’ ’bout Rube.

“Den he fotch some big gole year-rings an’ er brooch—powerful fine fur er nigger, ’case dey mos’ es fine es her Ole Miss wear ever’ day; an’ dat nigger w’ar broadclof lack er gemmen; an’ Rube he were powerful low in he min’, ’case de stranger talk mighty putty, an’ he ’low dat ’omens lub putty talkin’; but dat stranger ain’ say whar he fum, an’ he ain’t call he name ter any er de niggers, not eben ter de gal.

“An’ sing! Lord, how dat stray nigger sing, an’ pick de banjo, an’ mek de fiddle fa’rly dance! Eben de ’zorters, hearin’ uv hit ’way off, couldn’ keep dey foots fum shufflin’ an’ dey han’s fum pattin’ when dey hears dat nigger play de fiddle. But es fine es he were, wid he mustache an’ de b’ar’s grease on he hair, he allus wanter set down; an’ Unc’ ’Jah, ’case Rube were so po’ly, he pull he eye, lack er lizard, down on him, an’ he see dat he got sumpen de matter wid de right foot, an’ he try ter hide hit all he kin.

“But Unc’ ’Jah don’ say nuffin; he des er-workin’. An’ de stray nigger he promus de gal fine close an’ fine house lack her Ole Miss got; an’ de gal she show him her teef ergin, but she still er-thinkin’ ’bout Rube.

“Den de stranger he chink de gole money in he pocket an’ show hit ter de gal; she ’ain’t nebber see er nigger tote gole money erfore, an’ she op’n ’er eyes wide, an’ ain’ think ’bout Rube no more.

“Dat Rube he were er cuissome nigger, an’ he git ter be mighty painful, an’ he ain’ wanter eat ’count er de gal, an’ ain’ look at t’others des er-rinnin’ arter him; an’ Unc’ ’Jah he ain’ say nuffin, but he sot er charm fur de gal dat done promus ter marry de stray nigger an’ shakes her big gole hoops in de face er Rube. Dat gal mout er-knowed de stray nigger ’ain’ git ’em hones’.

“Den he gib her er ring wid two hearts on hit dat ud come in two, perzackly lack white folks, an’ dat rin Rube putty nigh crazy, ’case he done gib her he gran’maw’s gole ring; an’ de gal gib out dat she gwine marry de stranger, an’ er-gwine ter er far country. Unc’ ’Jah were mighty pestered, an’ he casts erbout; den he ups an’ ax de gal fur er lock uv her hair ter ’member her by.

“Hit please de gal powerful, ’case she were mighty uppish—uppish lack white folks—an’ she gib hit ter ’im; an’ Unc’ ’Jah chuckle powerful, ’case he got all he want fur ter mek he charm work.

“An’ dat night when de gal was er-walkin’ wid de stranger in de moonlight, she see sumpen dat skeer her mos’ ter def; but she ’feared ter holler; fur de stranger he taken he hat off fur ter cool he head, des er-talkin’ sweet’s sugar all de time; an’ dat gal, sho’s you born, see two little horns des er-growin’ in de moonlight, er-sproutin’ outer he forud; an’ she skeered so she look down, an’, my Lord! she see de lame foot des nuffin but er hoof! Den dat gal she know she done gib her promus ter marry wid de debil, ’case Unc’ ’Jah’s charm hit taken de scales fum her eyes; an’ she think ’bout Rube ergin, an’ she shuck an’ shuck, an’ tell de debil she cole; but he laugh, an’ show he teef, an’ ’low, ’You’s done mine now; I gwine warm yo’ bimeby.’ An’ she sweat cole, and ’low she gwine gib back de ring an’ de gole year-rings, an’ de promus; dat she ain’ lub nobody but Rube; but hit de debil, an’ he ain’ let her go, an’ he say she gotter marry him; but she say she ain’, dat she hate him.

“Unc’ ’Jah workin’ yit, an’ bimeby de stranger ain’ kim ter see de gal no mo’; but er tarrypin foller her, an’ stay by her when she work, an’ listen when she talk, an’ hit ’ten’ ter be ersleep; but when she ain’ look at hit, hit snap at her toes wid hits ugly mouf, an’ she cain’t dribe hit off. An’ bimeby she shivers, den taken hit up in her lap, ’case hit de debil an’ he mek her do hit; an’ dat tarrypin hit bite de blood outen her arm, ’case she b’long ter him an’ he got her promus; an’ she were so po’ly dat she gitten right scrawny.

“Den Rube ain’ know what ter do, ’case de gal cry, an’ he taken he axe an’ cut de tarrypin’s head off, while de gal hold hit ter keep hit fum drawin’ back; but he wa’n’t no hoodoo lack he daddy—he des er common nigger—an’ he mek er miss an’ cut de gal’s thumb off wid hit.

“But de cut neck er de head an’ de cut neck er de body dey retch an’ stretch todes one nuther, an’ retch an’ stretch twel dey tech, an’ den dey des jines right erfore dey eyes, an’ dat ole tarrypin he lif’ he head an’ blink dem ole eyes at bofe uv ’em. Hit go on dat way twel de gal ’mos’ cry her eyes out ter git shet er de tarrypin, when Unc’ ’Jah he kim erlong swingin’ he axe keerless lack, an’ he hear de commotion lack he nebber hear hit erfore, an’ taken sumpen lack grease outen er box in he pocket, an’ smear hit on de sharp aige, an’ blip! down he kim on de tarrypin’s neck, an’ de head an’ de body part, don’t jine no mo’.

“Well, dat gal done git shet er de tarrypin, an’ dough she mighty po’ an’ sickly lookin’, lack she hab de swamp-fever, she say she gwine marry Rube soon; but Unc’ ’Jah he know what were kimmin’, an’ she ain’ gwine marry Rube yit.

“Dat gal git ter be so po’ an’ droopy dat her Ole Miss ’low she let her work in de fiel’, dat de fresh air gwine do her good.

“So she sot inter choppin’ out cotton, ’case hit de spring er de year, but she sorter skeered dat de tarrypin kim back.

“He ain’ gwine kim back, but one day in de row she feel sumpen ticklin’ uv her bare foot mighty sof’, an’ she look an’ see hit were er long wigglin’ sarpent, an’ hit w’ar de face er de stray nigger she done promus ter marry, an’ hit smile an’ smile at dat gal in de row, an’ hit foller her down de row an’ back ergin, an’ when she ain’ look at hit, hit bite her foots an’ strike wid hits fangs, ’case hit gwine ter be noticed. Ever’ day hit meet her in de row, an’ ever’ day hit bite her, drawin’ de blood, an’ bimeby hit say it cole, an’ she hatter take it up in her arms ter warm hit, ’case hit de debil an’ he done git de promus.

“Well, dar ain’ nobody kin kill dat snake wid er stick, an’ dar ain’ nobody dat kin shoot hit wid er gun, ’case dey done try, an’ all de time dat sarpent des er-thinnin’ dat gal’s blood lack er man-eatin’ bat, when here kim Unc’ ’Jah down in de fiel’, an’ he taken de gun fum he shoulder an’ wipe de sweat offen him, ’case hit were hot. Den he kinder keerless lack ’n’int de bullets wid de sumpen dat he ’n’int de axe wid, an’ load up. Den he say sumpen ter hese’f an’ p’int de gun at dat streaked snake, an’ he were sho’ dead dat time.

“Dat gal she fall down and hug Unc’ ’Jah’s knees; but de debil he wa’n’t fru wid de gal yit; he ain’ wanter let her git erway fum him.

* * * * *

“Hit were summer-time good now, an’ de gnats dey pesterin’ de hosses an’ de cattle, an’ hit were fly-time ’mongst de people.

“Well, hit were de debil’s chance ergin, fur de gal say she ain’ marry de man, an’ de sarpent an’ de tarrypin bofe dead.

“Well, de debil he gwine mek dat gal see sights, fur he sot an’ think an’ think; den he finds out de innercentest house-fly dat ebber was hatched, an’ put hit in he pocket, an’ day arter day he trainin’ dat fly; den on de dark er de moon he set facin’ er de fly, an’ mek hese’f mighty small an’ git inter de fly, an’ fly up ter whar dat gal was er-settin’, an’ buzz an’ buzz.

“He light on her han’, an’ she bresh him off; he light on her year, an’ she mek dem gole year-rings ring; an’ he tickle her nose, an’ stick he cole clammy foots on her chin lack ’twere gwine ter rain; den he lit on her mouf an’ rin her putty nigh plum crazy.

“When her an’ Rube was co’tin’ ’unbeknownst, he buzz an’ buzz, an’ fly ertwixt ’em an’ listen ter all dey say, an’ he hears ’em say when dey gwine marry, an’ he buzz so hard he mos’ skeer hese’f.

“Den when de gal go ter bed he draw de blood ’mos’ es bad es de sarpent, an’ pester her so she hatter kiver up her head wid er quilt, dough hit were so mighty hot. Bimeby hit ’pear lack dat gal she know hit were de debil, an’ she git ashy an’ ashy, an’ dat fly pester her so dat de folks say she gone crazy erbout er little house-fly; but dat Rube hain’t gib her up, an’ de debil hain’t nuther.

“Well, Unc’ ’Jah ain’t talkin’; he des er-watchin’, an’ hi were de dark er de moon ergin, an’ he were plum ready ter meet de debil now.

“So whilst dey was er-prayin’ an’ ’zortin’ ober de gal fur ter mek her min’ kim back, he was er-workin’ wid er ’intment ter kill dat fly, an’ er-’sortin’ ter ’spedients fur ter keep de debil’s sperit fum gittin’ back inter he body when he kim outer de fly.

“‘Mos’ ever’ hoodoo kin do dat. I’s heard ’bout hit many er time; dar whar de debil larn hit. Dar allus two uv ’em, an’ dey set facin’, an’ spits deyse’fs inter anything dey wants ter go inter.

“Course Unc’ ’Jah could do hit hese’f; dey cotch him er-doin’ uv hit; an’ course he ain’t gwine ter let de debil beat him at he best game.

“Well, Unc’ ’Jah he sot erbout fur ter mek er ’intment fur ter cotch dat fly, so he mek er ’intment dat smells powerful sweet, an’ he sot de pot down by de side er de gal, an’ bimeby de fly buzz round an’ smell hit, an’ he fin’ hit sweeter ter him ’n de gal, an’ furgit all ’bout her, an’ eat twel he fitten ter bus’; den he drap offen de aidge an’ buzz his wings twel he die.

“Den Unc’ ’Jah he know de debil’s sperit loose fum de fly, an’ he ain’ gwine ter let de debil git back inter he body dis time if he kin hope hit, so he ’gin ter work he charm hard es he kin.

“De debil mek er win’ blow de fly out de do’; but Unc’ ’Jah follers hit. Den de debil blow dus’ in Unc’ ’Jah’s eyes; but he rubs hit out, an’ follers de fly.

“Den de debil blow er strong smoke in Unc’ ’Jah’s eyes fur ter keep him fum follerin’; an’ hit burn an’ hit smart, but Unc’ ’Jah he foller whar de win’ er-totin’ dat fly.

“Den de debil gib Unc’ ’Jah er miz’ry in de knee: he were ole, Unc’ ’Jah were, an’ ’twere mighty easy ter mek him painful: but Unc’ ’Jah des limp on an’ keep de dead fly in de win’ des erfore him, ’case he wanter hope set de gal free, ’count er his son Rube.

“Well, de debil play all kinds er capers wid Unc’ ’Jah ’dout techin’ him, ’case he were de bestes’ hoodoo dat ebber were, dead er libin’, an’ de debil were mighty put ter hit, ’case de power er de debil stops short somers, ’n’ he were putty nigh rin ter de eend uv he rope.

“So dey rin an’ rin an’ rin, Unc’ ’Jah allus keepin’ de fly in de win’ des erhead uv him, dough his tongue was hangin’ out.

“Den de debil he mek de win’ blow harder, an’ de fly in de win’ des fa’r flew; but Unc’ ’Jah he hol’ up he charm erfore him an’ split de win’ des ’hine de fly.

“Hit were sho’ cuissome ter see dat dead fly scootin’ on de win’, an’ Unc’ ’Jah des er-ridin’ hard, an’ er-ridin’ on nuffin; but dey say dat he sho’ done hit, an’ hit ’pear lack arter while de debil ’stonished ’case he see sech er powerful hoodoo, an’ he let dat win’ die back an’ dat fly flop down so suddent dat hit ’mos’ take Unc’ ’Jah’s bref erway.

“Den Unc’ ’Jah he see dat de debil sperit done gone inter er debil hoss dat was waitin’ fur he marster close by ter whar de fly fall; an’ hit were powe’ful hard ter keep up wid de debil hoss, ’case he mek he time by jumps es well es by flyin’; but Unc’ ’Jah’s charm was es good es de debil hoss, an’ when he fly, Unc’ ’Jah fly, an’ when he jump, Unc’ ’Jah jump, an’ he keep ’im plum in sight.

“Den de debil he w’ar out he hoss, an’ goes inter er grasshopper. Unc’ ’Jah groans at dat, fur he was mighty ole ter go so high an’ drap so low ever’ time wid de grasshopper, but dey say dat he done hit, an’ sho’ beat de grasshopper er-hoppin’.

“Dar was er squinch-eyed toad er settin’ by er rock, de debilishest-lookin’ toad dat ebber you see, an’ when de grasshopper wore out, de debil flings his ole laigs erway an’ goes inter de toad.

“Unc’ ’Jah he know hit wa’n’t no use ter kill de toad, ’case de debil gwine fin’ sumpen harder ter git ter he body in, so Unc’ ’Jah he hol’ he charm fas’ an’ des hop ’longsider de toad.

“Hit were mighty low-down work fur Unc’ ’Jah, but he were workin’ ter git eben wid de debil, an’ we has ter squat low ter rise high sometimes, an’ dat gal an’ dat Rube was bofe er-pinin’ unner de cuss.

“Well, dat toad wa’n’t any good company ter Unc’ ’Jah, an’ his belly wa’n’t useter stayin’ so clost ter de groun’, so he were powerful glad when dat toad ’low he was mighty tired an’ sleepy too.

“So Unc’ ’Jah were on de watch, an’ all uv er sudden dat toad flop down an’ open he mouf fur bref, fur de debil rid him hard, an’ fum de flutterin’ an’ hollerin’, Unc’ ’Jah know de debil done fin’ he nigger, de jay; but de jay cain’t bre’k he word ter Ole Mammy Natur’, an’ cain’t fly at night, an’ he hol’ so fas’ de debil cain’t shake him outen de tree.

“Hit were de same way wid de jay’s cousin, de crow; dar wa’n’t no corn dat de debil mout coax him wid in de night.

“An’ dat whar birds an’ beastes is better’n men; if you offers er man ernough, he’ll ’low ter do anything, but t’others cain’t go ’gin Natur’; an’ hit ain’t natchel fur er jay er er crow ter go kerhootin’ in de night-time.

“Dar wa’n’t nuffin lef’ fur de debil ter tek fur ter retch his body in but er bat, an’ Unc’ ’Jah hain’t got no wings; but Unc’ ’Jah he spread he arms an’ he ragged coat, an’ riz wid de bat.

“Hit were de dark er de moon, an’ dar wa’n’t many bugs er-flyin’, an’ hit ’pear lack dat bat wa’n’t so powerful anxious ter go; an’ de way he skimmed in de space an’ bumped ergin de trees fur ter spite de debil in him was er caution.

“But ever’ time de bat skim, Unc’ ’Jah skum, an’ ever’ time de bat bumped, Unc’ ’Jah bumped, twel hit ’mos’ knock de bref plum outen him, an’ his ole bald head were es full er goose aigs es er nut is er meat; but Unc’ ’Jah were des er-keepin’ up wid de debil.

“Well, dat body er de debil were er long way off, fur dey flewed an’ dey flewed, an’ rin ergin mo’ quare critters in de air dat ’pear ter be some ’quaintance er de bat, an’ he stop ter say ’howdy’ ter. Dey rin ergin all kinds er owls, an’ de bat ’pear ter be mighty thick wid ’em, an’ fum de things dey talks ter one nuther in de dark, Unc’ ’Jah think they mout be kin.

“Well, dey flewed an’ dey flewed, an’ es Unc’ ’Jah were in mighty close comp’ny wid de bat, de owls dey think Unc’ ’Jah er mighty big un, an’ dey mek dey compliments ter him. Bein’ es how Unc’ ’Jah he w’ar de charm an’ were er high-toned hoodoo, he know de language, an’ mek ’em back mighty perlight, des lack de owls, an’ de owls an’ de bat an’ Unc’ ’Jah dey ’pear ter be des lack brudders.

“Unc’ ’Jah he lack mighty well ter be back in he cabin, ’sleep, but hit wa’n’t ever’ hoodoo dat git de chances er gittin’ eben wid de debil ever’ day, so he keep er spreadin’ he coat an’ stretchin’ he arms lack de bat.

“Dey flewed so high dat dey could see down folks’ chimblies; an’ ’pear lack dar wa’n’t no tops on de houses, fur de debil were ’long an’ he onkiver ’em, lack he do ever’ night, an’ Unc’ ’Jah see de white folks, des what dey doin’, some uv ’em ’sleep, some uv ’em drinkin’, some uv ’em dancin’, an’ some uv ’em playing cards, an’ er-doin’ all kinds er devilment dey think nobody kin see—stranglin’ wid ropes, an’ killin’ in de dark, an’ sech lack; but Unc’ ’Jah he ain’t say nuffin, ’case hit wa’n’t none er his business. De debil he were mighty peart, an’ ever’ time dey kim ter rinnin’ water he try ter shoot dat bat er-crost hit, ’case he know er hoodoo cain’t cross er rinnin’ branch; but ever’ time dat bat dive, Unc’ ’Jah he spread he coat-tails wider an’ head ’im off, ’case he know what bre’k he charm, an’ de way dey kep’ er-duckin’ an’ er-divin’ when all hones’ folks was in dey beds was des fa’rly scand’lous; but Unc’ ’Jah were tryin’ ter set dat gal free fum de cuss er de debil.

“Well, Unc’ ’Jah he do so lack de bat dat he most furgit whedder he er bat er no, ’case he do dey ways an’ know dey talk ’dout steddyin’ uv hit; but bimeby de debil he git tired er dodgin’ Unc’ ’Jah, ’case he done lef’ dat body so long already dat he know hit dry up an’ crack, lack clay in de sun, an’ he know he gwine hab er power er trouble ter git back inter hit; an’ he see de dodgin’ ain’t do no good, an’ ’pear lack he lef’ dat body ’cross de branch, so he mek de kin’ er breeze blow up dat allus mek Unc’ ’Jah powerful sleepy. Unc’ ’Jah fit hit mighty hard, an’ he op’n he eyes wide an’ cl’ar he throat fur ter wake him up when he feels ’em shet, but Unc’ ’Jah des couldn’ mek er stan’ ’gin dat breeze, an’ es he fly erlong he op’n he mouf an’ ’gin ter snore. Dat were enough fur de debil, an’ de way he mek dat bat duck an’ dive an’ git ’cross dat branch whilst Unc’ ’Jah were nappin’ would er mek yo’ head fa’r swim. Well, when Unc’ ’Jah wake up an’ fin’ hese’f on de groun’, an’ de bat lyin’ dead an’ de debil ’cross de branch, he sho’ were plum mad, an’ he rub an’ rub he charm fur ter mek hit work.

“Dar sot Unc’ ’Jah on one side de branch, an’ dar sot de debil on t’other, an’ Unc’ ’Jah couldn’ cross hit, ’case he er hoodoo, an’ dar hain’t no hoodoo kin cross rinnin’ water ’dout bre’kin’ de spell. De debil he drag de body fum unner de trees, but hit were des es dry es clay, an’ de debil tryin’ es hard es he could ter git back inter hit, an’ Unc’ ’Jah des er tryin’ fur ter keep him fum hit.

“But de charm ain’ workin’ good, ’count er de rinnin’ water, dough de debil hab er mighty hard time.

“De debil sot de body up ’gin er tree, an’ he sot down er facin’ uv hit, an’ he try ter spit hese’f back inter de body; an’ he spit an’ spit twel he mouf plum dry, but dat body ain’ move, ’case de debil done been gone too long, an’ hit done git too dry.

“De debil hatter borry er body, ’case he cain’t mek one, an’ hit b’long ter some low-down man dat wand’rin’ roun’ outen he skin; an’ de debil he hatter gib hit back, an’ he kinder in er herry too, ’case dat man gotter go ter work in de mornin’.

“Well, de debil he spit an’ he spit, an’ ’cross de branch Unc’ ’Jah he work an’ he work—he tryin’ fur ter dry up de water so’s his charm kin work on de debil.

“Hit ’pear lack de debil gwine win, ’case he done spit hese’f ’mos’ half inter de body; an’ de body lif’ he arm an’ chuckle an’ laugh—course hit were de debil chucklin’ an’ laughin’ in him; but dat branch were er dryin’ up too, mighty fas’, an’ dey bofe uv ’em herry, fur hit done ’most day.

“De body lif’ t’other arm; but de branch done plum dry now; an’ Unc’ ’Jah he riz wid he charm an’ jump ’cross an’ lay he han’s on de body; an’ de debil he pull, an’ Unc’ ’Jah he pull; but de debil cain’t work ’gin’ Unc’ ’Jah’s charm; an’ he howls lack er dog fur ter skeer Unc’ ’Jah off, but Unc’ ’Jah ain’t skeered; an’ he bark lack er wolf, but Unc’ ’Jah know him; an’ he roar lack er lion an’ holler lack er mad bull, but Unc’ ’Jah keep he han’ wid de charm in hit on de body.

“Den de debil shine he eyes at Unc’ ’Jah lack er tiger-cat, an’ r’ar an’ t’ar an’ chaw de ole coat plum offen Unc’ ’Jah, but Unc’ ’Jah got holt er de body yit. Den de debil he gin hit up, ’case he cain’t work ’gin sech er powerful hoodoo, an’ draw de res’ uv he sperit outen de body, an’ gib one las’ awful howl, ’case de day was bre’kin’ now, an’ go des er-limpin’ an’ er-yellin’ inter de wood in de shape uv er lame yaller dorg dat was er-sniffin’ close by.

“Den Unc’ ’Jah go up ter de house an’ git some salt, fur salt hit mek de debil plum miserbul, an’ he fill up dat ole body wid hit lack er sack, an’ tie hit up, an’ fling hit inter de bayou.

* * * * *

“De debil he go erbout er-seekin’ fresh parsturs an’ er-feedin’ on new grass, fur he ain’ nebber kim on dat place no mo’; an’ he ain’ pester de gal no mo’ arter Rube done marry her; fur dat de way Unc’ ’Jah git shet uv him, an’ dat de way ter git even wid him when he pesters yo’, if yo’ does hit lack Unc’ ’Jah do, in de dark er de moon.”

THE OTHER MAUMER

The great bell was sounding the dinner hour, for it was twelve o’clock, and the long line of negroes threw aside the gunny-sacks as they came from the field and wiped their perspiring faces, for it was yet warm, even though October had already touched the trees upon the hill.

The ringing of the bell was a welcome sound to Cely, one that she had been longing to hear for a whole hour, as her fingers fluttered restlessly over the bolls. She had not been working well; Susan and Rachel, reckoned with Cely the fastest pickers on the place, were many pounds ahead; but Cely did not care; her heart was not in her work to-day.

Silently she made her way by the side of the hill to the long cabin called the “Nursery,” where Maumer, weazen and bent, and long emeritus as to field duties, tended the twenty little wooden cradles.

Maumer was sitting on the doorstep holding one of her little charges. “My Cindy’s Paul got dat thrash ergin mighty bad. Calamus, catnip, and groun’-ivy hain’t no good fur hit sometimes,” said Maumer, as Cely drew nearer. “I tole Cindy dat, but she des want ’em, ’case Ole Miss gib ’em ter Little Miss when she er baby. Cindy want Paul lack whi’ chillen, but Ole Miss don’ tek no notice uv ’im, when she see yo’ baby, Cely,” said Maumer, with a frown. “Allus sayin’ what er fine chile he am, an’ nebber gib Cindy’s chile nuffin but er blue chany mug.”

Cely was not listening; swiftly she glided by nineteen of the little cradles, and lifted, with many soft tones and caresses, a tiny brown and blue bundle from the twentieth, for Cely’s was the very newest baby in the Nursery.

“Mammy little pickaninny! Mammy putty nigger!” cooed Cely, tossing up the little bundle.

Maumer still mumbled on the doorstep. “You looks lack er Mammy!—an’ hain’t got yo’ coat ter yo’ ankles yit! Er settled man lack Henry in mighty po’ business takin’ er chile lack yo’ is. Yo’s er nice Mammy!” But Cely was used to Maumer’s moods, for she had been cross ever since Henry married Cely instead of Cindy, Maumer’s stupid daughter, and had grumbled continuously from the day the little new baby was put under her charge.

“Wake up! wake up! hit yo’ Mammy, boy!” and the girl lifted the tiny lids with her long slender fingers, but the baby only pressed his lips lazily against the mother’s breast.

“What de matter wid him, Maumer? He hain’t eben hongry! He allus wake up an’ play wid me!”

“Hush, yo’ fool; yo’ wake ’em all up! Hain’t nuffin de matter wid him. He been yellin’ er hour, an’ dey hatter sleep some time.”

The other mothers were now coming in; for they had regular times to go to the Nursery, especially those with very young infants.

“Hi, Judy!” said Maumer to a comfortable, rather elderly mother, who had just taken her latest born, her fifteenth, from the cradle, “Cely think dar sumpen de matter wid her baby, and ready ter ’cuse me wid hit, ’case hit want ter go ter sleep. Think she got one er dem jumpin’ dolls lack Little Miss. Her an’ Henry keep hit wake all night er playin’ wid hit, an’ hit gotter sleep some. Here, gimme dat chile, gal! Yo’ dun’no’ nuffin ’bout babies!” There was a general laugh at Cely’s expense. “Nuffin de matter wid de chile!” and Maumer tossed and tickled him until he crowed.

But Cely looked at Maumer distrustfully.

“_Yo_’ sho’ dar hain’t nuffin de matter wid my baby, Judy?” Cely asked, wistfully, as she put her forefinger into the brown, waxen fist that belonged to the tiny bundle Maumer held.

“Naw, gal, naw!” laughed Judy, putting number fifteen, who began to yell vigorously, back into its cradle. “Hain’t nuffin de matter wid him, ’cep’in’ he so mighty little; fur yo’ sho’ does look lack er gal er-totin’ er doll. Dar hain’t nuffin de matter wid him; he des sleepy.”

“Do er baby allus breave dat way?” Cely was twisting her apron nervously. “Does dey allus ’beat, beat,’ in de top er de head an’ in de chist dat er way? Tek off his clo’es an’ look, Judy.”

Maumer frowned and turned on her heel when Judy good-naturedly took the little bundle from her arms and stripped the blue checked slip from Cely’s latest doll.

“Hain’t he putty ’dout any clo’es?” cried Cely, beguiled from her fear by her admiration of the brown, bow-legged Cupid squirming on Judy’s knee.

“Cely proud fitten ter bus’; she des wanter show her baby off,” said the mother of the ugliest baby in the Nursery.

“Hain’t nuffin wrong wid him, Cely, ’cep’in’ he little, an’ if he lib, he’ll grow,” said Judy, oracularly, as she relinquished the child. “All de young things—birds, an’ rabbits, an’ babies—beat dat er way in de head an’ in de chist. Dar de bell now!” and Judy folded her sun-bonnet and laid it, slats sidewise, on the top of her head.

Cely sighed as the teasing laugh of the women rang back to her; then, with a parting caress, she laid her baby in the cradle and followed.

Old Maumer, bent and sullen, stood in the doorway until the last figure had turned the hill-path.

“Think I dun’no’ nuffin ’bout babies, when I nussed dat berry Cely, wid all de airs she gibs herse’f, right here in dis cradle. Heap er use she got wid er baby, an’ she hain’t hardly er ’oman yit, an’ Ole Miss an’ Little Miss myratin’ so.

“Cely got some putty whi’ clo’es wid lace on, an’ some blue beads too, dat Little Miss tek offen her big doll fur de baby; an’ Cindy got nuffin but er blue chany mug, an’ sumpen ter eat fum de Big House. Cindy sech er hog; allus ax Ole Miss fur sumpen ter eat when she down. If hit wa’n’t fur Cely, Cindy’d er got all dem beads an’ things, ’case dey’s de two littlest babies, but dey’s des lack es two peas.” Maumer had taken Cindy’s feverish child in her arms again; then moving with a sudden impulse, she laid it in the cradle beside Cely’s baby. “Es lack es peas in one pod,” she whispered. “If hit wa’n’t fur Cely’s, Ole Miss would mighty much dis’n, ’case he de putties’ in de Nursery, ’cep’in’ Cely’s, an’ he de onlies’ gran’chile dat I got.” Cindy’s baby moaned as if in pain, and Maumer took him up again.

“I dun’no’ what ail him—hain’t time fur ’is teef ter mek trouble, but his mouf pester me mightily. I’s tired er de whi’ folkses’ physic; I gwine fix my own truck. If he do git worser—if he do—” Maumer looked at the blue beads around the neck of Cely’s sleeping baby, and then into the face of the little sufferer before her, with a leer of latent cunning.

* * * * *

In the olden time of slavery days, the mother of a new baby was the subject of especial envy.

As a consequence, there were many privileges that attached, many immunities, both before and after it came. Ole Miss always went to the Quarters personally upon such occasions; the children followed with gifts, and put in their claims to the little black baby with many excited arguments.

Upon the self-same day, the two little new faces peeped into the Quarters; the one, the child of stalwart Henry’s girl-wife, had been chosen to be fought over and cried over; the other had been accorded only ordinary honors, for Cindy was not a favorite among the children, and hence old Maumer’s jealousy was aroused.

Through the long day Maumer sat and brooded, neglecting the toddlers who had strayed onto forbidden ground; and stirring the cradles roughly with her foot,—Old Maumer, who had been trusted and revered for so long,—but she had not a grandchild then.

Ma’y Ann, the young assistant, played with acorn cups and bits of china under the old oak, unmolested, for Maumer was wrestling with a problem, and all of the latent, unsuspected savagery was rising.

Then by-and-by the little wooden cradles were empty, for the work-day was done; the mothers had taken their babies to their own cabins, and Maumer laid Cindy’s child on her shoulder and closed the door.

All night the candle glimmered through the cracks in Maumer’s cabin; all night she physicked and the baby cried; while Cindy, heavy-eyed and stupid, slept soundly until day. The door was closed; Maumer knew that she was disobeying orders, for Ole Miss had peremptorily commanded that she was to be notified in case of serious illness. But Maumer was sly and cunning; Ole Miss should not be told.

Convulsion after convulsion shook the tiny frame, all of the remedies were used without effect, and towards daybreak she tried the baby’s fortune, “come life er come death”; then Maumer made up her mind.

* * * * *

The old oak was casting its soft shade across the lawn, where the Nursery toddlers sat sedately munching the sweet corn pone that it was one of old Maumer’s duties to provide, while Ma’y Ann was just starting to the spring for a bucket of cool water.

“An’ min’, yo’ fetch me my gourd yo’ lef’ on de battlin’-bench ’side de branch, an’ min’ yo’ herries, ’fore I beat de life outen yo’!”

Ma’y Ann’s eyes widened and “bucked” at Maumer’s unwonted proposition, as she idly swung the bucket along the hill-path, singing an irrelevant, foolish little song.

The great bell would ring in a moment; Maumer knew it by the shadow of the oak, as well as by the old dial just across the lawn.

Should she do it? Up and down, both ways she looked; there was nobody even in sight, save Ma’y Ann, dawdling far down the spring-path; then the great bell clanged through the Quarters. A spasm stiffened the form of Cindy’s baby, and Maumer, with a stern face and trembling hands, stripped the long shirt and blue beads from Cely’s boy, and throwing them hastily upon her daughter’s child, she laid it in the twentieth cradle, changing Cely’s baby to the cradle just vacated.

Old Maumer, with shaking limbs, was raking up the smouldering coals upon the hearth when the lively throng of mothers came filing in to nurse their little ones.

“Hi! What ail Maumer? What de matter?” asked Judy, always foremost.

“Chill,” grunted Maumer, as she knelt to woo the fickle blaze. “Go fetch in some chips, Ma’y Ann!” for Ma’y Ann had returned.

* * * * *

Dancing, skipping, like a child let loose for a holiday, came Cely; she had even “hop-scotched” with Ma’y Ann that very morning. Nothing was the matter with her baby—Judy said so, Maumer said so—even old Maumer, who was so jealous; he was still her doll, and how he cooed and kicked for her just before she left him!

Down the long row of cradles she leaped rather than walked, in the fulness and exuberance of life.

“Yo’ Mammy’s comin’, boy, yo’ Mammy’s comin’!” and snatching the baby from the cradle, she tossed it gleefully above her head.

Then a shriek, that startled even the laborers who had not left the field—a shriek of agony, of fear, of a wild thing wounded in the heart, for the little cold mouth turned away from the warm breast so full of life and strength, and the tiny limbs convulsed, and then relaxed forever with the breathing of a sigh.

Holding the dead baby close, and rocking in her woe, the face of Cely seemed hardened and ashened in a moment, like that of an old woman, while, shrill and high, her voice carried even to the clearing.

“Maumer! yo’ pizened my boy! Yo’ kilt him, Maumer!”

But Maumer, with closed eyes, only mumbled over the coals and shivered, though the noon was warm.

* * * * *

Smiles came through Cely’s tears, smiles of gratification when Little Miss, with eyes and nose all red, refused to be comforted for the loss of her “little nigger,” and brought from the Big House more pretty baby things than Cely had ever seen; while Ole Miss put them on with her own hands; and smoothing down the dainty folds, laid in the brown, doll-like fingers the tiniest, whitest rose-bud that the early frost had spared. Then emotion was stirred to its depths again, and the wild blood of two continents ran riot in her veins, even to the verge of madness, when Cely came to know the meaning of a grave. And Ole Miss had her brought to the Big House, by way of comfort to Henry, who was Ole Marse’s foreman at that time.

Ole Miss tried to teach her to sew and to spin, but restraint was galling, the Big House with its civilization had no attraction after the novelty had worn off, and suddenly the wheel burred, the thread snapped, and Cely would leap like a tiger-cat through the doorway and beyond the wood-lot, where later they would find her, tenderly nursing in her arms a doll made of a folded towel.

But time was kinder even than Ole Miss, and after a while the laugh and smile came back, Henry’s cabin was cheery again, and before the picking was over, Cely was rivalling Susan and Rachel in the field.

* * * * *