The bittern alone responded to his voice, as he flew screaming
by; or the bull-frog croaked dolefully from a neighboring pool. At
length, it is said, just in the brown hour of twilight, when the owls
began to hoot and the bats to flit about, his attention was attracted
by the clamor of carrion crows that were hovering about a cypress tree.
He looked and beheld a bundle tied in a check apron and hanging in the
branches of a tree; with a great vulture perched hard by, as if keeping
watch upon it. He leaped with joy, for he recognized his wife's apron,
and supposed it to contain the household valuables.
"Let us get hold of the property," said he consolingly to himself, "and
we will endeavor to do without the woman."
As he scrambled up the tree the vulture spread its wide wings, and
sailed off screaming into the deep shadows of the forest. Tom seized
the check apron, but, woful sight! found nothing but a heart and liver
tied up in it.
Such, according to the most authentic old story, was all that was to be
found of Tom's wife. She had probably attempted to deal with the black
man as she had been accustomed to deal with her husband; but though a
female scold is generally considered a match for the devil, yet in this
instance she appears to have had the worst of it. She must have died
game, however: from the part that remained unconquered. Indeed, it is
said Tom noticed many prints of cloven feet deeply stamped about the
tree, and several handfuls of hair that looked as if they had been
plucked from the coarse black shock of the woodsman. Tom knew his
wife's prowess by experience. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked at
the signs of a fierce clapper-clawing. "Egad," said he to himself, "Old
Scratch must have had a tough time of it!"
Tom consoled himself for the loss of his property by the loss of his
wife; for he was a little of a philosopher. He even felt something like
gratitude towards the black woodsman, who he considered had done him a
kindness. He sought, therefore, to cultivate a farther acquaintance
with him, but for some time without success; the old black legs played
shy, for whatever people may think, he is not always to be had for
calling for; he knows how to play his cards when pretty sure of his
game.
At length, it is said, when delay had whetted Tom's eagerness to the
quick, and prepared him to agree to any thing rather than not gain the
promised treasure, he met the black man one evening in his usual
woodman dress, with his axe on his shoulder, sauntering along the edge
of the swamp, and humming a tune.
