After a while the roaring ceased and the clerk, being perilously near suffocation, calmed the fears of the negroes and opened the windows. The trembling darkeys cocked their ears and listened apprehensively, but the shrilling of the Cicada among the pines and the bellowing of the bullfrogs in the distant canals were the only sounds that broke the silence of the night so recently full of terrors. After awhile the door also was unbarred and opened, and a bold man borrowed an axe from the storekeeper and adventured far enough to cut some slabs of lightwood from a familiar stump. The hero added to his popularity by splitting these up and distributing them among the members of the gentler sex, whose escorts lighted torches and convoyed them in a body back to the quarters, where the children and husbands whom they left at home were found intact.
At church on Sunday, the Lewisburg negroes spread among their brethren from the other plantations the news of the coming of the lion, and the “locus pastuh” fervently touched upon the king of beasts. “Puhtec’ we, Maussuh Jedus, f’um da’ t’ing oonuh call lion. Lead’um, Lawd, to weh de buckruh’ cow en’ t’ing’ duh bite grass so him kin full ’e belly bedout haffuh nyam nigguh, en’ ef ’e yiz haffuh tek nigguh fuh ’e bittle, do, Lawd, mek’um fuh tek dem sinful nigguh wuh ent wut, en’ lef’ de Lawd’ renointed. Mek’um fuh do wid de good sistuh en’ bredduh ’puntop dis plantesshun same lukkuh oonuh mek’um fuh do long Dannil—” “Yaas, Lawd,” shouted Monday, the hypocrite, “ef ’e yiz fuh eat nigguh, mek’um fuh eat dem nigguh ’puntop’uh Bonny Hall ’cross de ribbuh, en’ tek ’e woice out’uh we pinelan’.” “Yaas, Lawd!” “Please suh fuh do’um, Lawd!” shouted the fervent brethren and sisters. And stealthily, about two hours after dark that night, while the emotional negroes were alternately laughing, shouting and praying, Monday put his Devil’s Fiddle into a sack, slipped into his canoe, and, crossing to the opposite shore of the river, roared frightfully along the Bonny Hall water line, terrifying the negroes on that plantation and filling the Lewisburg darkeys with thankfulness that their prayers had been answered.
Another week passed. Monday, playing with them as a cat plays with a mouse, kept quiet, until by Saturday night, no news having come of any damage at Bonny Hall, the Lewisburg negroes hoped that the lion had been captured by “de sukkus buckruh,” or had left the neighborhood, and soon after nightfall, half the plantation gathered at the store.
About nine o’clock, when the store was jammed with briskly trading negroes, from afar in the woods came the ominous roar of the hand-made lion. It was distant, and the negroes, while badly frightened, stood their ground to await developments, but a few minutes later the awful sound came again from a nearer point, and by the time the roaring had come within a quarter of a mile of the place, the negroes were panic-stricken, and most of them hurried from the store and ran to the quarters, where they bolted themselves in, to pass a night in fear and trembling, for at intervals until past midnight, their ears carried terror to their souls. On Sunday, Monday, wearing the sanctimonious expression of a cat that has just swallowed the canary, moved among them, listening with sympathetic ears to the tales of perilous adventures that some of them had experienced. “Bredduh W’ite,” said a church sister, “lemme tell you. Las’ night uh gone to Sistuh Bulow’ house attuh daa’k. Uh did’n’ bin to de sto’, ’cause las’ week de buckruh credik me, en’ uh ’f’aid ’e gwine ax’me fuh pay’um wuh uh owe’um, en’ uh gi’ Sistuh Bulow de money fuh buy me rashi’n’ en’ t’ing’, en’ uh seddown een ’e yaa’d fuh wait ’tell ’e come back. Him house ent dey een nigguhhouse yaa’d, ’e stan’ to ’eself ’pun de aige uh de pinelan’. Bumby uh yeddy da’ t’ing’ woice. W’en uh yeddy’um fus’, ’e bin fudduh, en’ uh t’awt ’e bin Jackass duh holluh, but w’en ’e git close, uh ruckuhnize ’e woice, en’ uh know ’e duh lion. Uh dat ’f’aid, uh cyan’ talk. Uh trimble sukkuh mule’ shoulduh duh shake off cowfly. W’en da’ t’ing come t’ru de bush en’ look ’puntop me, me two eye’ pop’ out me head! ’E stan’ high mo’nuh Mass Clinch’ mule. ’E yeye shine lukkuh dem fiah buckruh does mek ’puntop’uh Jackstan’ duh pinelan’ duh summuhtime fuh keep off muskittuh! W’en ’e op’n ’e jaw, ’e t’roat red lukkuh beef haslett! ’E mout’ full’up wid teet’ sukkuh harruh, en’ blood duh drip out ’e jaw sukkuh water drap outuh nigguh mout’ w’en ’e look ’puntop’uh watuhmilyun! W’en uh shum stan’ so, uh drap’ ’puntop me two knee’ en’ uh baig’ me Jedus fuh sabe me! Uh dat ’f’aid, uh shet me yeye’, en’ w’en uh done pray en’ op’n’um’ ’gen, de t’ing gone!” And so on, each tale of dreadful experience told by one negro, being over-matched by the next, who, if one gave “free rein” to her imagination, would be sure to strip the bridle off her’s and throw it away. “Meself shum,” related a 20th Century Munchausen in petticoats. “Uh bin down de road uh piece ’bout two hour’ attuh daa’k fuh try fuh ketch da’ gal, ’cause uh kinduh ’spishun my juntlemun, en’ uh binnuh folluh ’e track fuh ketch’um, but uh nebbuh ketch’um yet, but uh gwine fuh ketch’um, ’cause uh got me yeye ’puntop da’ gal f’um W’ite Hall wuh tote dem bottle en’ t’ing onduhneet’ ’e frock fuh sell rum to all dese man eb’ry Satt’d’y night, en’ mek’um fuh t’row ’way dem money ’stead’uh g’em to dem wife en’ t’ing’, en’ uh bin swif’ ’pun da’ gal track, ’cause yistidd’y w’en my juntlemun git pay’off fuh ’e wu’k, ’e come en’ pit half ’e money een me han’ befo’ uh kin ax’um fuhr’um, en’ da’ t’ing mek me fuh know him duh fool me. Uh look ’puntop’um en’ uh shum duh grin. Sattifaction duh run roun’ da’ nigguh mout’ same lukkuh puppy run roun’ de yaa’d attuh ’e own tail! Uh know man tummuch, en’ w’en ’e stan’ so, ’e yent fuh trus’! Eb’ry time man gi’ money to ’e lawfully lady, ’e h’aa’t duh cry, en’ w’en him look lukkuh ’e glad fuh g’em, ’e face duh lie, ’e try fuh kibbuh up ’e h’aa’t, en’ ’e done mek’up ’e min’ fuh fool’um, but me! uh got uh ecknowledge fuh look t’ru ’e face, en’ w’en uh look ’puntop ’e h’aa’t, ’e stan’ crookety ez uh cowpaat’! Da’ gal kin fool some dem todduh ’ooman, but ’e yent fuh fool me! Him hab two petticoat’, one mek out’uh homespun clawt’, lukkuh we’own, en’ todduh one hab skollup’, lukkuh buckruh lady’ own. W’en him hab on de clawt’ petticoat, none de man nebbuh bodduhr’um, but w’en ’e walk t’ru Lewisbu’g nigguhhouse yaa’d wid da’ skollup’ petticoat staa’ch’ stiff, en’ ’e frock hice up high fuh show’um, en’ dem man look ’puntop de skollup en’ yeddy de staa’ch duh talk ‘she, she, she’ w’en ’e walk, dem know suh ’e got rum fuh sell—dat duh ’e sign—dem t’roat’ biggin fuh dry, en’ dem eb’ry Gawd’ one pick uh chance fuh folluhr’um, but dem todduh ’ooman, dem t’ink suh man lub da’ skollup’ t’ing ’cause ’e stylish, en’ dem study ’bout git skollup’ petticoat demself fuh mek man fuh folluhr’um, but duh nutt’n’ but de pyo’ rum dem man dey attuh. Dem fuh folluh da’ gal ef ’e petticoat mek out’uh grano sack!
“W’en uh did’n’ ketch de gal, uh staa’t’ fuh gone home, en’ uh look ’way off t’ru de pinelan’ en’ uh see two t’ing duh shine sukkuh injine headlight! Uh look ’gen, ’e come close, en’ uh see ’e duh annimel eye! Bumby ’e op’n’ ’e mout’ fuh holluh. Spaa’k’ duh come outuhr’um en’ ’e woice roll ’tell de groun’ shake. Uh nebbuh hab no time fuh pray. W’en uh see da’ fiah come out ’e mout’, uh tell’um, ‘so long, bubbuh, uh gone!’ en’ uh hice me ’coat en’ uh tek me two foot een me han’ en’ uh nebbuh study ’bout no road. Uh gone slam t’ru de bush! Brian ’cratch’ me, uh dunkyuh. Jackwine’ ketch’ me foot en’ obuht’row me, uh jump up, uh gone ’gen! One harricane tree bin ’cross de paat’, uh bus’ t’ru’um sukkuh fiah gone t’ru broom grass fiel’. Nutt’n’ nebbuh stop me, ’cause, bubbuh, uh run! W’en uh git een de big road, uh hog binnuh leddown fuh tek ’e res’. Wen ’e yeddy me foot duh beat groun’, ’e jump up fuh run, but uh obuhtek’um dat swif’, me foot kick’um ez uh gwine, en’ uh yeddy’um holluh behin’ me sukkuh tarrier duh graff’um by ’e yez! Briah tayre off me frock ’tell, time uh git nigguhhouse yaa’d, uh yent hab nutt’n’ lef’ but me shimmy, en’ w’en dem nigguh look ’puntop me dem t’ink uh sperrit come out de ’ood. Uh run een me house, uh shet me do’, en’ uh nebbuh come out ’gen ’tell sunhigh!”
Monday inclined his ear and listened to the negroes, but he showed them no mercy, and before the end of the third week his lion became so bold that a roar came even in broad daylight from among the reeds along the river bank, frightening the laborers out of the fields and even prompting a neighboring planter to order his foreman to lock up the mules for safety when he saw the hands flying in terror from the ricefields! At last, to avoid industrial paralysis, the owner of the plantation, discovering Monday’s plot, suppressed the powder keg lion. And the master saved his people, the Halcyon nested again on the waves of the Combahee, bringing peaceful days and peaceful ways to the Lewisburg plantation, with nothing more exciting than the quest of “da’ skollup’ petticoat,” but—“that’s another story.”
THE LION KILLER
The lion of Lewisburg was dead. By order of former Governor Duncan Clinch Heyward, the Devil’s Fiddle with which Monday White, yellow-skinned plantation practical joker, had terrorized the negroes of the neighborhood for three weeks, had been hidden away, and the groaning roar of the powder keg lion was no longer heard in the land. Monday, the clerk at the store and the master of the plantation, guarded the secret carefully and the negroes, who no longer heard the terrible voice echoing through the woods at night, or along the reeds by the river, believed that the lion, exorcised by the spirit of prayer, had departed from among them and gone to some less regenerate community. Those who had told marvelous tales of the fierce creature whose flaming eyes had burned into their souls, whose bloody jaws had frozen them with fright, told and retold with elaboration and close attention to detail,—and finally themselves believed, the first told stories of their encounters with the monster. Some of those who had had no personal experience with the lion of Lewisburg believed only part of the oft told tales. Others were frankly skeptical, for, while practically all of them believed in the lion, few were willing to yield to the story-tellers the prestige of having come unscathed through such perilous adventures. These stories are always liberally discounted among the negroes, however. At a “baptizing” on the Combahee, the big black pastor had doused in the canal one after another of the “seeking” sisters. They emerged from the turbid waters gurgling and choking, but all were too full of water, or the spirit, for utterance. At last one lusty wench with better breath control than the others came up smiling, and with wind enough for speech. “Oh Jedus!” she yelled, determined to create a sensation, “uh see Gawd onduhneet’ de water! Uh fin’ me Gawd. ’E look ’puntop me!”
“You lie!” said the envious sister who had just preceded her, “’tis cootuh! Enty I shum?”
Gradually the negroes recovered their confidence, and resumed their nocturnal rambles, visiting from one plantation to another, but they usually went in small companies and seldom adventured alone, save when some bibulous man, glimpsing the “skollup’ petticoat” of the peripatetic bootlegger from White Hall as she swished her starched symbol through the Lewisburg quarters on Saturday nights, followed with parched tongue and arid throat to some convenient spot where coin could be exchanged for contraband.