MISTER FOX or Old Foister, a folk tale

One time there was a young woman named Polly. They called her Pretty Polly. She wasn't married and she lived by herself. All her folks were dead. And one day a stranger came into that settlement. Said his name was Fox. Slick-lookin' feller, and he went to courtin' Pretty Polly right off. He'd come to see her of a Saturday night, and they'd talk. Then one day he asked her would she met him the next Saturday night under a big pine out on a ridge there. So she told him she would. But when he left, she got to studyin' about him askin' her to meet him away off like that and she decided she didn't like it much.

Well that Saturday night came and she didn't feel like goin', but she fixed up and went on anyhow. Hit was cold and the wind was blowin' something awful when she got out on that ridge. She got to the pine tree but he wasn't there. She thought first she'd wait, then she thought she'd run back; and before she could make up her mind she heard him comin' up the holler. Then she thought she'd hide but there wasn't any place to hide. She happened to look up in that tree, and it had a few low branches to it, so she caught hold on them and cloomb right on up till she was in the thickest part of that big pine.

She could see down through the branches a little, see who was right under the tree. And directly here came Mr. Fox carryin' a lantern. She saw him put the lantern on a big rock and sit down to wait. He waited and waited. Then, after a right long time, he reached over behind a rock and she saw him lift out a mattick and shovel. He started diggin'. She watched. He kept on diggin' and Polly saw the place he dug was about six-foot long and three-foot wide. She kept watchin', and then she knew it was a grave, and that he was diggin' it for her.

Mr. Fox got the grave started and then he sat down again. He 'uld look and listen, turn his head up this way and that. Then he'd act restless-like: jump in that grave and just dig and dig. He kept on diggin' and waitin' and diggin' till 'way up in the night.

Pretty Polly nearly froze up there. The wind kept blowin' the top of the tree way over to one side, and the branches 'uld creak and rattle, but she kept holdin' on. And fin'lly she heard a rooster crow 'way off in the settlements somewhere, so she knew it must be close to midnight. Well, pretty soon after that she saw Mr. Fox pick up his tools and throw 'em across his shoulder, and he picked up his lantern and left. Polly she waited till he was good-and-gone, and then she got down from there in a hurry and struck out for home by all the near cuts she could figger.

Well, Mr. Fox he quit comin' to see her after that.

Then hit wasn't long till Pretty Polly heard folks taklin' about how three young women had disappeared from around the settelment. Some said Mr. Fox had been courtin' all three of 'em. he'd not come to any of their houses: met 'em out somewhere. But nobody had any evidence on him, so they couldn't do nothing about it. They'd tried to find out where he lived but nobody had any notion where his house was at.

Then one day he came to Pretty Polly's place again. She didn't let on like she knowed a thing, and they got to talkin' and directly he asked her would she come with him to his house. She told him, "Well I might, sometime."

"Come on and go with me now. Hit's not far."

"No," she says. "I can't go today."

"Can you come next Satureday?"

"I don't know where you live at."

"I'll come after you."

"No," she says to him. "If I come, I'll come by myself."

Mr. Fox he studied about that a minute, says, "If you'll give me a poke of flour I'll lay you a trail."

Polly went and got him a little sack of flour and he took it and went on off. He 'uld sift out a little of that flour every few steps.

Well -- Polly she didn't go that next Saturday. It was the one after that she decided what she 'uld do. She was brave. It hadn't rained nor been very windy that two weeks, so she found the trail all right. She followed it on and on till fin'lly she came to an old rickety house awa-a-ay out in the woods. She hid and watched. Then she saw Mr. Fox come out of the house and go off. And when he was out of sight is he went to the house and went on in.

Now there was a parrot in there and hit talked to her. Polly looked around, and when she went up the stairs, and started to open a door, the parrot hollered at her, says,

Don't go in, pretty lady!

You'll lose your heart's blood!

But she opened the door anyhow, and looked in. It was like a slaughter room in there: women hung up all around the walls with their heads cut off. Polly shut the door right quick, and started runnin' down the stair-steps. Then she heard a racket sounded like a woman screamin'. Slipped to the window and peeked out, and there came Mr. Fox a-draggin' a woman by the arm. "Law me! What'll I do now!"

Hide! Pretty lady!

Hide! Hide!

"Don't tell him I'm here!"

No, pretty lady!

No! No!

Polly ran and hid under the old rickety stair-steps.

Mr. Fox came on in the house jerkin' that girl along and dragged her on up the stairs. She reached out and caught the stair-rail a-tryin' to hold back. Mr. Fox took out his sword and hacked her hand off and it fell through the cracks in the stair-steps, landed right at Pretty Polly's feet.

Mr. Fox stopped, and asked that bird, "Has anybody been here?"

No, sir!

No! Oh no!

So he pushed the girl in his slaughter room and went in after her and shut the door. Pretty Polly she reached and grabbed up that girl's hand, and slipped out the door and ran for life.

Well, in about a week or two after that there was a play-party in the settlement. Everybody went, and when Pretty Polly got there she saw Mr. Fox in the crowd. So all of 'em were havin' a good time dancin' and playin' kissin' games and first one thing and then another, and 'way up late in the night they all sat down to the fireplace where the old folks were at, and they got to tellin' tales, and tellin' dreams, and singin', and askin' riddles.

Pretty Polly slipped out and got that hand: brought it back wropped up in a piece of cloth. She sat down again and unwropped that hand under her apron where nobody coudl see. Sat right on listenin' to what somebody was tellin', didn't say a thing. Then directly she says, "I've got a riddle."

"What is it? Tell us!"

So she told 'em, says,

Riddle to my riddle to my right!

Where was I that Saturday night?

All the time in a lonesome pine.

I was high and he was low.

The cock did crow, the wind did blow.

The tree did shake and my heart did ache

to see what a hole that fox did make.

They all tried to guess. Mr. Fox sat right still.

"What's the answer?" they all asked her. "Tell us the answer."

"Not now," she told 'em. "I'll tell you directly." Says, "I dreamt me a quare dream the other night. You might like to hear that."

"Ain't nothin' in dreams," says Mr. Fox.

They all begged her to tell her dream. Polly folded her hands under her apron and told 'em, says, "I dreamed that I went to Mr. Fox's house. He wasn't at home, but I went on in to wait for him. There was a bird there and when I went to look in one of the rooms it told me, says,

Don't go in, pretty lady!

You'll lose your heart's blood.

But I cracked the door just a little anyhow, and I saw a lot of dead women in there -- hangin' on the walls."

"Not so! Not so!" says Mr. Fox. And the young men there all looked at him. Pretty Polly kept right on. "Then I dreamed I heard a woman screamin' and cryin', and I looked out and there came Mr. Fox a-draggin' a woman after him."

"Not so! Not so!" says Mr. Fox. "It couldn't 'a been me!"

And a couple of men there moved back against the wall.

"That bird told me to hide and I ran and hid under the stair-steps. Then I dreamed that girl grabbed hold on the rail and Mr. Fox took out his sword and hacked her hand off, and it fell through the stairs and landed right where I was."

Old Mr. Fox jumped up, says,

But it was not so,

and it is not so,

and God forbid it ever should be so!

And several young men moved over between Mr. Fox and the door. Polly paid Mr. Fox no mind.

"Then I dreamed he shoved the girl in his slaughter room and went on in and shut the door. And I grabbed up that hand and ran away from there fast."

Old Mr. Fox hollered out again,

But it wasn't so!

And it is not so!

And God forbid it ever should be so!

Then Pretty Polly answered him back, says,

But it was so!

And it is so!

For here's the very hand to show!

And she took that hand out from under her apron and held it up right in Mr. Fox's face. Then all the men here they took hold on Mr. Fox and they sure did handle him.

And after they took Mr. Fox out, everybody recollected Pretty Polly's riddle and asked her about it, and she told 'em about that grave and all.

They took Mr. Fox on to town, and they tried him on Pretty Polly's evidence and he was hung.

NMM

This murder mystery was known to Shakespeare: Scene I, Act I, of Much Ado About Nothing, where Benedick remarks: "Like the old tale, my lord, 'It is not so, nor 'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so!'"

As told here, it has been put together from the tellings by R.M. Ward of Beech Creek, North Carolina, and by Polly Johnson of Norton, Virginia. The German version is called "The Robber Bridegroom," and Joseph Jacobs' "mr. Fox," from England, is close to the American tale. Mr. Ward called the villain "Old Foister." I have never actually heard the "Fox Riddle" told with the tale. It is my own guess that it must have once been part of the story. This tale, as in the case of "Wicked John" is known all over northwestern Europe, as reported by Dr. Stith Thompson.