The Jack Tales

by Richard Chase

  Jack was awful lazy sometimes, just wouldn’t do ary lick of work. His mother and his daddy kept tryin’ to get him to help, but they couldn’t do a thing with him when he took a lazy spell.

  Well, Jack decided one time he’d pull out from there and try his luck in some other section of the country. So his mother fixed him up a little snack of dinner, and he put on his old raggedy hat and lit out.

  Jack walked on, walked on. He eat his snack ’fore he’d gone very far. Sun commenced to get awful hot. He traveled on, traveled on, till he was plumb out of the settle-ment what he knowed. Hit got to be about twelve, sun just a-beatin’ down, and Jack started gettin’ hungry again.

  He came to a fine smooth road directly, decided he’d take that, see where it went, what kind of folks lived on it. He went on, went on, and pretty soon he came to a big fine stone house up above the road. Jack stopped. He never had seen such a big house as that before. Then he looked at the gate and saw it was made out of gold. Well, Jack ’lowed some well-doin’ folks must live there, wondered whether or no they’d give him his dinner. Stepped back from the gate, hollered, “Hello!”

  A man came to the door, says, “Hello, stranger. What’ll ye have?”

  “I’m a-lookin’ for a job of work.”

  “Don’t know as I need to hire anybody right now. What’s your name?”

  “Name’s Jack.”

  “Come on up, Jack, and sit a spell. Ain’t it pretty hot walkin’?”

  “Pretty hot,” says Jack.

  “Come on up on the porch and cool off. You’re not in no hurry, are ye?”

  Jack says, “Well, I’ll stop a little while, I reckon.”

  Shoved back that gold gate and marched on in. The man reached in the door and pulled out a couple of chairs. Jack took one and they leaned back, commenced smokin’. Directly Jack says to that man, “What did you say your name was, mister?”

  “Why, Jack, I’m the King.”

  “Well, now, King,” says Jack, “hit looks like you’d be a-needin’ somebody with all your land. I bet you got a heap of land to work.”

  “Are ye a hard worker, Jack?”

  “Oh, I’m the workin’est one of all back home yonder.”

  “You a good hand to plow?”

  “Yes sir!”

  “Can ye clear newground?”

  “Why, that’s all I ever done back home.”

  “Can ye kill giants?”

  “Huh?” says Jack, and he dropped his pipe. Picked it up, says, “Well, I reckon I could try.”

  The old King sort of looked at Jack and how little he was, says, “Well, now, Jack, I have got a little piece of newground I been tryin’ for the longest to get cleared. The trouble is there’s a gang of giants live over in the next holler, been disputin’ with me about the claim. They kill ever’ Englishman goes up there, kill ’em and eat ’em. I reckon I’ve done hired about a dozen men claimed to be giantkillers, but the giants killed them, ever’ last one.”

  “Are these here giants very big ’uns?” says Jack.

  “Well, they’re all about six times the size of a natural man, and there’s five of ’em. The old man has got four heads and his old woman has got two. The oldest boy has got two heads, and there’s a set of twins has got three heads a-piece.”

  Jack didn’t say nothin’, just kept studyin’ about how hungry he was.

  King says, “Think ye can clear that patch, Jack?”

  “Why, sure!” says Jack. “All I can do is get killed, or kill them, one.”

  “All right, son. We’ll make arrange-ments about the work after we eat. I expect my old woman’s about got dinner ready now. Let’s us go on in to the table.”

  “Thank ye, King,” says Jack. “I hope it won’t put ye out none.”

  “Why, no,” says the King. “Hit ain’t much, but you’re welcome to what we got.”

  Well, Jack eat about all the dinner he could hold, but the King’s old woman kept on pilin’ up his plate till he was plumb foundered. His dish set there stacked up with chicken and cornbread and beans and greens and pie and cake, and the Queen had done poured him milk for the third time. The old King kept right on, and Jack didn’t want them to think he couldn’t eat as much as anybody else, so directly he reached down and took hold on the old leather apron he had on and doubled that up under his coat. Then he’d make like he was takin’ a bite, but he’d slip it down in that leather apron. He poured about four glasses of milk down there, too. Had to fasten his belt down on it so’s it ’uld hold.

  Well, directly the King pushed his chair back, and then he and Jack went on out and sat down again, leaned back against the house and lit their pipes.

  King says to Jack, says, “If you get that patch cleared, Jack, I’ll pay ye a thousand dollars a-piece for ever’ giant’s head you bring down, and pay ye good wages for gettin’ that patch cleared: ten cents a hour.”

  Jack said that suited him all right, and he got the King to point him out which ridge it was. Then Jack says to the King, “You say them giants live over in the other holler?”

  King said they did.

  Jack says, “Can they hear ye when ye start hackin’?”

  “They sure can,” says the King.

  Jack didn’t say nothin’.

  The King says to him, “You don’t feel uneasy now, do ye, Jack?”

  “Why, no, bedads!” says Jack. “Why, I may be the very giantkiller you been lookin’ for. I may not kill all of ’em today, but I’ll try to get a start anyhow.”

  So the King told him maybe he’d better go on to work. Said for him to go on out past the woodpile and get him a axe, says, “You might get in a lick or two ’fore them giants come. You’ll find a tree up there where them other men have knocked a couple of chips out’n. You can just start in on that same tree.”

  So Jack started on out to the woodpile. The King watched him, saw him lean over and pick up a little old Tommy hatchet, says, “Hey, Jack! You’ll need the axe, won’t ye?”

  “Why, no,” says Jack, “This here’ll do me all right.” He started on off, turned around, says, “I’ll be back about time for supper.”

  The old King just grinned and let him go on.

  When Jack fin’ly got up on that ridge, he was scared to death. He sat down on a log and studied awhile. He knowed if he started in cuttin’, them giants would come up there; and he knowed if he didn’t, the King ’uld know he hadn’t done no work and he’d likely get fired and wouldn’t get no supper. So Jack thought about it some more, then he picked out the tallest poplar he could see, and cloomb up in it, started in choppin’ on the limbs way up at the very top . . .

  Hack! Hack! Hack!

  Heard a racket directly, sounded like a horse comin’ up through the bresh. Jack looked down the holler, saw a man about thirty foot high comin’ a-stompin’ up the mountain, steppin’ right over the laurel bushes and the rock-clifts. Jack was so scared he like to slipped his hold.

  The old giant came on up, looked around till he fin’ly saw where Jack was settin’, came over there under him, says, “Hello, stranger.”

  “Howdy do, daddy.”

  “What in the world you a-doin’ up there?”

  “I’m a-clearin’ newground for that man lives back down yonder.”

  “Clearin’ land? Well, I never seen such a fool business, start in clearin’ newground in the top of a tree! Ain’t ye got no sense?”

  “Why, that’s allus the way we start in clearin’ back home.”

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “My name’s Jack.”

  “Well, you look-a-here, Jack. This patch of land is ours and we don’t aim to have it cleared. We done told the King so.”

  “Oh, well, then,” says Jack, “I didn’t know that. If I’d ’a knowed that I’d ’a not started.”

  “Come on down, Jack. I’ll take ye home for supper.”

  Didn’t think Jack ’uld know what he meant. Jack hollered back, says, “All right, daddy. I’ll be right down.�
�

  Jack cloomb down a ways, got on a limb right over the old giant’s head, started in talkin’ to him, says, “Daddy, they tell me giants are awful stout. Is that so?”

  “Well, some,” says the old giant. “I can carry a thousand men before me.”

  “Well, now, daddy, I bet I can do somethin’ you can’t do.”

  “What’s that, Jack?”

  “Squeeze milk out’n a flint rock.”

  “I don’t believe ye.”

  “You throw me up a flint rock here and I’ll show ye.”

  So while the old giant hunted him up a flint rock, Jack took his knife and punched a little hole in that old leather apron. The giant chunked the rock up to him and Jack squeezed down on it, pushed up against his apron, and the milk commenced to dreen out . . .

  Dreep, dreep, dreep.

  “Do it again, Jack!”

  So Jack pushed right hard that time, and hit just went like milkin’ a cow.

  The old giant hollered up to Jack, says, “Throw me down that rock.”

  He took the rock and squeezed and squeezed till fin’ly he got so mad he mashed down on it and they tell me he crumbled that flint rock plumb to powder.

  Then Jack hollered down to him again, says, “I can do somethin’ else you can’t do.”

  “What’s that, Jack?”

  “I can cut myself wide open and sew it back up. And it won’t hurt me none.”

  “Aw, shucks, Jack. I know you’re lyin’ now.”

  “You want to see me do it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Jack took his knife and ripped open that leather apron, took a piece of string he had, punched some holes, and sewed it back up, says, “See, daddy? I’m just as good as I ever was.”

  Well, the old giant just couldn’t stand to let Jack out-do him, so he hollered up, says, “Hand here the knife, Jack.”

  Took Jack’s knife and cut himself wide open, staggered around a little and fin’ly queried over on the ground dead. Well, Jack, he scaled down the tree and cut off the old giant’s heads with that little Tommy hatchet, took ’em on back to the King’s house.

  II

  The King paid Jack two thousand dollars like he said he would. Jack eat him a big supper and stayed the night. Next mornin’, after he eat his breakfast, Jack told the King he reckoned he’d have to be a-gettin’ on back home. Said his daddy would be a-needin’ him settin’ out tobacco.

  But the King says, “Oh, no, Jack. Why, you’re the best giant-killer I ever hired. There’s some more of that giant gang yet, and I’d like awful well to get shet of the whole crowd of’em.”

  Jack didn’t want to do it. He figgered he’d done made him enough money to last him awhile, and he didn’t want to get mixed up with them giants any more’n he could help. But the King kept on after him till Jack saw he couldn’t get out of it very handy. So he went and got the Tommy hatchet, started on up to the newground again.

  Jack hadn’t hardly got up there that time ’fore he heard somethin’ comin’ up the holler stompin’ and breakin’ bresh, makin’ the awfulest racket. He started to climb him a tree like he done before, but the racket was gettin’ closer and closer, and Jack looked and saw it was them twin giants that had three heads a-piece. Jack looked up, saw them six heads a-comin’ over the tree tops, says, “Law me! I can’t stand that! I’ll hide!”

  He saw a big holler log down the hill a ways, grabbed him up a shirt-tail full of rocks and shot in that log like a ground squirrel. Hit was pretty big inside there. Jack could turn right around in it.

  The old giants fin’ly got there. Jack heard one of’em say to the other’n, “Law! Look a-yonder! Somebody’s done killed brother.”

  “Law, yes! Now, who you reckon could ’a done that? Why, he could ’a carried a thousand Englishmen before him, single-handed. I didn’t hear no racket up here yesterday, did you?”

  “Why, no, and the ground ain’t trompled none, neither. Who in the world you reckon could ’a done it?”

  Well, they mourned over him awhile, then they ’lowed they’d have to take him on down and fix up a buryin’. So they got hold on him, one by the hands and the other by the feet, started on down.

  “Poor brother!” says one of’em. “If we knowed who it was killed him, we’d sure fix them!”

  The other’n stopped all at once, says, “Hold on a minute. There ain’t a stick of wood to the house. Mother sent us up here after wood; we sure better not forget that. We’ll have to have plenty of wood too, settin’ up with brother tonight.”

  “We better get about the handiest thing we can find,” says the other’n. “Look yonder at that holler log. Suppose’n we take that down.”

  Well, they laid the old dead giant down across the top of that log and shouldered it up. Jack got shook around right considerable inside the log, but after he got settled again, he looked and saw the old giant in front had the log restin’ right betwixt his shoulders. And directly Jack happened to recollect he had all them rocks. So after they’d done gone down the holler a little piece, Jack he picked him out a rock and cut-drive at the giant in front—fumped him right in the back of the head. Old giant stumbled, and stopped and hollered back at his brother, says, “You look-a-here! What you a-throwin’ rocks at me for?”

  “I never so throwed no rocks at you.”

  “You did so! You nearly knocked me down!”

  “Why, I never done it!”

  They argued awhile, fin’ly started on down again.

  Jack waited a minute or two, then he cut loose with another good-sized rock. Wham!

  “You con-founded thing! You’ve done hit me again!”

  “I never done no such a thing!”

  “You did too!”

  “I never teched ye!”

  “You’re the very one. You needn’t try to lie out of it neither. You can see as good as I can there ain’t nobody else around here to throw no rocks. You just hit me one other time now, and I’ll come back there and smack the fire out-a you!”

  They jawed and cussed a right smart while till fin’ly they quit and got started on down again.

  Well, this time Jack picked out the sharpest-edged rock he had, drew back and clipped him again right in the same place. Pow! The old giant in front hollered so loud you could ’a heard him five miles, throwed that log off’n his shoulder and just made for the other’n, says, “That makes three times you’ve done rocked me! And you’ll just take a beatin’ from me now or know I can’t do it!”

  Them twin giants started in to fightin’ like horses kickin’. Beat any fightin’ ever was seen: pinchin’ and bitin’ and kickin’ and maulin’ one another; made a noise like splittin’ rails. They fit and scratched and scratched and fit till they couldn’t stand up no more. Got to tumblin’ around on the ground, knockin’ down trees and a-kickin’ up rocks and dirt. They were clinched so tight couldn’t neither one break loose from the other’n, and directly they were so wore out they just lay there all tangled up in a pile, both of ’em pantin’ for breath.

  So when Jack saw there wasn’t no danger in ’em, he crawled out from that log and chopped off their heads, put ’em in a sack and pulled on back to the King’s house.

  III

  Well, the old King paid Jack six thousand dollars for that load of heads. Then Jack said he just had to get on in home. Said his folks would be uneasy about him, and besides that they couldn’t get the work done up unless he was there.

  But the King says to him, says, “Why, Jack, there ain’t but two more of ’em now. You kill them for me and that’ll wind ’em up. Then we won’t have no trouble at all about that newground.”

  Jack said he’d see what he could do: went on back that same evenin’.

  This time Jack didn’t climb no tree or nothin’. Went to work makin’ him a bresh pile, made all the racket he could. The old four-headed giant come a-tearin’ up there in no time. Looked around, saw the other giants lyin’ there dead, came over to where Jack was, says, “Hello, stranger.”
r />   “Hello, yourself.”

  “What’s your name, buddy?”

  “My name’s Jack—Mister Jack.”

  “Well, Mister Jack, can you tell me how come all my boys layin’ here dead?”

  “Yes, bedads, I can tell ye,” says Jack. “They came up here cussin’ and ’busin’ me, and I had to haul off and kill ’em. You just try and sass me ary bit now, and I’ll kill you too!”

  “Oh pray, Jack, don’t do that! There’s only me and the old woman left now, and she’s got to have somebody to get in her stovewood and tote up water.”

  “You better be careful what ye say then. I ain’t goin’ to take nothin’ off nobody.”

  “Well, now, I don’t want to have no racket with ye at all, Mister Jack. You come on down and stay the night with us, help set up with our dead folks, and we’ll get fixed to have a buryin’ tomorrow.”

  “Well, I’ll go,” says Jack, “but you sure better watch out what you say.”

  “Oh, I’ll not say nothin’,” says the old giant. Says, “Law, Jack, you must be the awfulest man!”

  So the old giant stuck the dead ’uns under his arm and he and Jack started on down. When they got close to the house, the giant stopped, says to Jack, “Now, Jack, you better wait till I go and tell the old lady you’ve come down for supper. She might cut a shine. She’ll be mad enough already about her boys bein’ killed.”

  He went on in and shut the door. Jack slipped up and laid his ear to the keyhole so’s he could hear what they said. Heard him tell his old lady, says, “I’ve got Jack here, claims to be a giantkiller. I found the boys up yonder at the newground with their heads cut off, and this here Jack says he’s the one done it.”

  The old woman just carried on. Fin’ly the old giant got her hushed, says, “He don’t look to me like he’s so stout as all that. We’ll have to test him out a little, and see whe’er he’s as bad as he claims he is.”