> sinners white and black who according to their own testimony "De
 > debil made em do it "

Sometimes us kids and my dad would be hoofing it for home just about
dusk, down the old county road, no one talking, just trudging and
crunching along through the deep gravel, going slower and slower like
we'd never get home. My dad would stop suddenly and silently swing
around. Then slowly raise his arm to point into the dark behind us,
whispering:

"Here come the debbil,
walkin' long the lebbil,
digging up the grabbil with his loooooooog toe nails."

He usually caught us younger ones unawares, in a little fright, then
with laughter from the older kids that dispelled the darkness, on we
went, quick step, toward the comfort of home.

One time, everyone was laughing moving on. Everyone but me, like they
all didn't see the devil actually was scuffling along the ditch in the
deep shadow just up ahead. Even dad didn't see as he stopped, and looked
around to find me, turning his back on what lay ahead. I tried to shout
a warning, but nothing came out. He walked toward me, leaving them all
exposed. Then he scooped me up, turning back to the group. We both saw
the ruckus ahead. All the kids dashed about, shouting, flashing lights
with a dark figure rising up then clashing down, again, hard again.
Dad' legs were trotting the wrong direction, carrying us both toward the
scene of certain doom. I struggled, but he slung me over his shoulder
and ran on, on into the storm. I hit the ground, gravel grinding into my
face and forhead, blue fuzzy lights, then up, up into the black
night...landing again on dad's shoulder. The only thing in life was my
dad's shoulder, then his hand on my head.

Turns out it was just old Earl Coonts, chasing down his chestnut mare.
Earl came over to see if I was alright. I've forgotten what he said.




John
by hammer and hand great works do stand
by pen and thought best words are wrought

www.HistoricHomeWorks.com

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