ing 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 toward the black woodsman, who he considered had done him a
kindness. He sought, therefore, to cultivate a further 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 anything rather than not gain the
promised treasure, he met the black man one evening in his usual woodsman
dress, with his ax on his shoulder, sauntering along the edge of the
swamp, and humming a tune. He affected to receive Tom's advance with great
indifference, made brief replies, and went on humming his tune.

By degrees, however, Tom brought him to business, and they began to haggle
about the terms on