“What made that old hornet sting me for, Mammy Phyllis?” demanded Mary Van, regarding tearfully her little red swelling hand.

“’Caze, honey,” replied Phyllis, seating herself in a chair beside the hammock, “he thought you had done jine Cap’n Yall’r Jackit’s army ter fight ’ginst him.”

“What they going to fight about?” Willis began to fidget to see the fight.

“Set still, boy, you’ll th’ow dis gal clean out’n de hammock.” She readjusted both of them, and resumed her seat. “Dey fightin’ ov’r dat ole pan er dirty cid’r settin’ out yond’r b’hime de ash-hopp’r. Yer see Cap’n Yall’r Jackit an’ Cap’n Hornit, bofe uv’ em, jes’ er gwine back’ards an’ fur’ards ’mongst de varmints, tryin’ ter see which one kin git de mo’es fokes ter jine der side. Miss Queen Bee tell ’em, hit’s de bizzy season in de honey biznes’ an’ she ain’ got no time ter fool wid none uv ’em. Cap’n Yall’r Jackit sorter stop and study, he do, den he g’long down de big road tell he come up wid Mist’r Grab-All Spid’r. He pass howdy wid ’im, den he ’nounce:

“‘Mist’r Grab-All, ’cose you gwine jine de Yall’r Jackits’ side, ain’t yer?’

“Grab-All Spid’r sort’r op’n an’ shet his claws an’ th’ow his ’bark’r quid on de uth’r side his jaw an’ ’spon’:

“‘Nor, I’m jes’ er plain ole biznes’ man,—I ain’ got no fightin’ sense like dese rip snortin’, hifalutin’ solger boys. I’ll jes’ stan’ off an’ watch de battle, but,’ sez he, ‘I hopes you’ll whup de fight, Cap’n Yall’r Jackit, ’pon de wurd uv er gent’mun I does, ’caze dat pan er cid’r’s wuth er tussle, an’ youse de man ter make hit.’

“MIST’R GRAB-ALL, ’COSE YOU GWINE JINE
DE YALL’R JACKITS SIDE, AIN’T YER?”

“Yall’r Jackit sorter swell hisse’f out er lit’le big’r, an’ Mist’r Grab-All roll hisse’f up in er ball like he bin sleep er hundred ye’rs, an’ ain’ nuv’r heah tell uv er Yall’r Jackit in his life.

“Bimeby, hyah come Cap’n Hornit zoonin’ down de big road. Old Grab-All Spid’r onrap hisse’f an’ start ter stretchin’ his legs out, an’ chawin’ on his bark’r quid ergin.

“Cap’n Hornit say, ‘Name er de Lawd, Mist’r Grab-All, is you bin sleep th’u all dis fracus dat’s ’bout ter bus’ loose?’

“Grab-All spit his quid out; an’ gap loud er time er two, an’ say, ‘Whut you torkin’ ’bout, Cap’n Hawnit?’

“Hawnit zoon erbout, an’ holl’r, ‘Wake up!’ sez he, ‘Wake up, I wants yer ter hope me wipe dem Yall’r Jackits off’n creation.’

“Grab-All set up an’ take notice, like he gwine jine de hawnit’s army dat minit, den he sorter crumble hisse’f down, an’ low, ‘Lawdy, Lawdy, ef I jes’ wus er solger like you is, Cap’n Hawnit, I’d be de bigges’ man in de woel.’ Whut’s de use er you axin’ enybody ter hope you fight?—Why you kin whup out dem Yall’r Jackits ’fo’ de time start ter commence!’ Den he laf’ an’ slap hisse’f on de knee, an’ say, ‘I wush ter de Lawd I wus er fightin’ man like you is, Cap’n!’

“Cap’n Hawnit swell his chist out tell he look like he gwine bus’ dem solger butt’ns off sho’, an’ Grab-All roll hisse’f up ergin like he done gone back ter sleep er nuth’r hund’rd ye’rs.

“Soon es Cap’n Hawnit g’long off, Grab-All onrap hisse’f ergin, an’ swing er long on de lim’ er de trees by his spid’r web.”

“Mammy, why didn’t he walk on the ground?”

“’Caze, son, he nuv’r want ter make no tracks, so fokes kin fine out his biznes’.—Nor, suh, he swing hisse’f by dat spid’r web er his’n tell he come ter Mist’r Inch Wurm’s house. Inch Wurm’s old lady say, ‘Yond’r come dat old Grab-All Spid’r, yer bett’r take keer how yer fools wid ’im.’

“Jes’ den Grab-All th’ow his hat on de flo’ an’ bow low down ter Miss Inch Wurm an’ sez he, ‘I jes’ come ter tell yo’ ole man whar dar’s er sight er money waitin’ fur somebody ter come ’long an’ pick up.’

“Ole lady Inch Wurm sort’r take notice, she do, an’ ax ’im ter pass de news erlong. Grab-All say: ‘Nor, you jes’ set right still tell me an’ yo’ ole man come back an’ fetch yer er hat full er money.’

“Old lady Inch Wurm git up an’ g’long down town, an’ start ter spindin’ dat money right den. Soon es she done out’n de way, Grab-All tell Inch Wurm ’bout de cid’r in de pan b’hime de ash-hopp’r; an’, sez he, ‘we’ll make de Hawnits an’ Yall’r Jackits fight derse’fs ter death, den me an’ you’ll ’vide de cid’r, dat is ef you kin mea’jer off how much dey is in de pan ’thout lettin’ fokes know whut you doin’.’

“Yer see Grab-All sich er big biznes’ man dat he bleege ter know how big de pan is, an’ how much’s in dar, down ter de ve’y drap. So Inch Wurm he put on his ole close an’ went er crawlin’ off ter mea’jer de cid’r, an’ ’tain’ long ’fo’ hyah he come back ergin wid de news fur Grab-All. Grab-All tell ’im: ‘You done wurk fine, an’ you done wurk quick,—in fack,’ sez he, ‘you done yo’ wurk s’ good I gwine fix yer, so you doan hatt’r do no mo’ wurk long es you live.’ Den he laf in his sleeve.

“Mammy, don’t let Grab-All hurt Inch Wurm,” begged Mary Van.

“Dat can’t be hop’d, honey, Inch Wurm know too much ’bout Grab-All’s biznes’, an’ Grab-All got ter shet his mouf some way,—He take an’ spin er teenchy-weenchy lit’le web, right whar Inch Wurm got ter git out at. Inch Wurm, he start off, feelin’ pow’ful fine he do, an’ ’fo’ yer knows hit, dar he wus all tangle up in Grab-All’s web. Grab-All, he run ’roun’ like he tryin’ ter hope ’im out, but he jes’ spinnin’ de web tight’r so Inch Wurm nuv’r is ter git out no mo’.—He got ter starve ter death, ’caze he’s in Grab-All’s way, an’ Grab-All gwine see nobody doan come ’roun’ dar ter hope ’im neeth’r. ’Cose he doan mine Miss Lightnin’ Bug passin’ de time er night wid him, ’caze she can’ do nuthin’ mo’en ter bright’n ’im up er lit’le,—but he keep his eye on her, too.

“Nex’ day, de fight commence! Suh, I tell yer hit wus de pepperes’ fight yer ev’r seed. Dem Hawnits fly inter dem Yall’r Jackits, tell yer can’t see de groun’ fur de dead Jackits; but hyah come de Jackits back at de Hawnits! Lawdee! dey come wid der foots, an’ der han’s, an’ der haids all tergeth’r.—Yas, suh, dey come er buttin’ an’ er bitin’ an’ er stingin’ mouty nigh at de same time! Yas, my Lawd, de dead Jackits wus kiv’r’d up wid de dead Hawnits! Oh! I tell yer dem varmints fit like sho’ nuf war times!

“Whin bofe sides ’ud stop ter sorter blow er lit’le, an’ think mebbe dey kin confab de res’ er de fight out,—ole Grab-All’d come fus’ ter de Hawnits, an’ den ter de Jackits, an’ tell ’em dey boun’ ter whup out de nex’ jump. Whin he see de Hawnits gittin’ de wus er de charge, he run tell ’em wharbouts ter hit de Jackits. Whin he see too minny er de Jackits gittin’ kilt, he run tell dem wharbouts ter cripple de Hawnits. He keep on gwine fus’ ter one, den ter de uth’r twell dey wusn’t er han’ full lef’ on bofe sides.”“Why didn’t they turn in and beat old Mister Grab-All?” Willis bristled.

“’Caze bofe uv ’em think Grab-All wus on der side. Grab-All ain’ lef’ no tracks ter pint out whar he bin—nor, suh, he so full er dat spid’r web biznes’ er his’n dat he kin swing hisse’f fum ennywhar,—an’ fo’ yer kin kitch ’im, he done swing ’roun’ in ernuth’r place onti’ly.”

“Captain Yellow Jacket’s side beat the fight, didn’t they, Mammy?” Mary Van desired the hornets vanquished.

“No, they didn’t,” contradicted Willis, “a hornet can beat a Yellow Jacket every time!”

“Jes’ hole on dar!” Phyllis steadied the hammock. “I’m de onlies’ one dat seen who ’twas whup’d.”

“I want Captain Yellow Jacket’s side to kill all of the hornets,” whimpered Mary Van.

“But they can’t,” persisted Willis vehemently.

Once more Phyllis held the hammock. “You dunno nuthin’ tall erbout hit, suh,” as she saw the little girl about to cry, “Hawnits is got mo’ pow’r en Jackits is got, but er Jackit is mo’ smart’r en er Hawnit. I ’speck ef Grab-All had er helt his mouf out’n de fracus, de Jackits wud er outfit de Hawnits, but es hit wus, Grab-All keep ’em fightin’ tell dem whut wusn’t kilt wus hit so hard dat hit ’twan’ long ’fo’ de ve’y las’ one uv ’em died. Atter dat hap’n Grab-All, he got de cid’r!

“He spin erlong b’ildin’ on some houses he fixin’ ter rent tell bimeby Mist’r Blue Bot’le Fly an’ his fambly come erlong. Mist’r Blue Bot’le whisper ter his chillun ter give Grab-All plenty er road. I tell yer Grab-All swing hisse’f down, he do, an’ ax Mist’r Blue Bot’le whut ail his fambly dat dey look so po’ly.

“Blue Bot’le say: ‘I ain’ nuv’r see sich er time in m’ life! De rich fokes done stretch wire ov’r de vit’als s’tight dat dey ain’ nuthin’ fur de po’ flies ter do ’cep’n ter starve.’

“Grab-All say, ‘Dat’s de trufe, Brer Blue Bot’le, an’ I feels s’ sorry fur yer dat I’m gwine give you an’ yo’ fambly all de vit’als yer kin eat.’

“Bot’le Fly so glad he gwine git sumthin’ fur nuthin’, dat he fergit ter ’member how raskilly Grab-All wus, an’ whin he do ’member ’bout hit, he think he gwine keep his eye op’n an’ git de fus’ lick. He jes’ nachelly can’t let dat free vit’als git way fum ’im, doan keer how low down Grab-All wus. So him an’ his fambly foll’r Grab-All ter de pan er cider, an’ dey so hongry, dey fergits ’bout ev’ythin’ ’cep’n eatin’. Grab-All set up on de ash-hopp’r an’ mos’ kill hisse’f laffin’.”

“Why, Mammy?”

“’Caze, son, he jes’ fatnin’ dem flies ter kill ’em off like yo’ ma do chickins. Whin de flies ’gun ter git fat, he spin er teenchy, lit’le web, an’ whin dey git kotch’d, he run an’ make like he tryin’ ter onhitch ’em, but he tie ’em up wusser, an’ sting ’em tell dey dies. Den he take ’em ter one dem houses an’ sto’ ’em erway.”

“Did he kill all of Mister Blue Bottle’s family?” asked Mary Van.

“Dey wusn’t er one uv ’em lef’, honey, not eb’n Miss Blue Bot’le’s baby gal, an’ nobody dunno de money Grab-All make on de fly trade dat winter nuth’r.”

“Mammy Phyllis, are all spiders kin to Grab-All?”

“Dey’s all kin, but dey ain’t all got de same name, ’caze yer see all uv ’em ain’t got de same slicknes’ ter git way wid fokes like Grab-All do,” she explained.

“Did Mister Grab-All give the other spiders some of Mister Blue Bottle’s children to eat?” asked Mary Van, by way of suggestive generosity.

“Nor, suh, Grab-All say he ain’ got no pockit book kin—he say he need all he got, an’ mo’ b’sides.” Then she added: “But dey doan need Grab-All ter give ’em nuthin’ ’caze none uv ’em wus po’—all uv ’em got nuf spid’r web in ’em ter swing erlong ’dout trackin’ up der biznes’.”She reached out to steady the hammock as Willis scrambled out.

“Mammy,” he exclaimed, “Captain Yellow Jacket and Captain Hornet didn’t get a thing.”

“Nor, suh,” said Phyllis, lifting Mary Van to the ground, “an’ nobody nev’r do git nuthin’ dat keeps der senses in der fistes ’stid er der haids—Ketch Ma’y Van by de uth’r han’ an’ come on.”