 Way back in the deep woods, there lived a scrawny old woman who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks. With her bedraggled black and gray hair, funny eyes, one yellow and one green, and her crooked nose, Old Betty was not a pretty picture, but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted. Old Betty's house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books, brimming with magical spells. Old Betty was the only one living in the hollow who knew how to read. Her granny, who was also a conjurer, had taught her the skill as part of her magical training. Just about the only friend Old Betty had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around her place. It rooted so much in her kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright, like a man. One fellow claimed he'd seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Betty's porch, chattering away to her while she stood up some potions in the kitchen. But everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine. Rawhead was the name Old Betty gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the old creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in hog-scaled hollow. The razorback didn't mind the funny name. Rawhead kept following Old Betty around her little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He'd even walked to town with her when she came to the local merchant to sell her home remedies. Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Rawhead and Old Betty around the town that it looked mighty strange one day, around hog-driving time when Old Betty came to the merchant without him. Where's Rawhead? The owner asked as he accepted her basket of home remedy potions. The liquid in the bottle swished in an agitant manner as Old Betty said, I ain't seen him around today and I'm mighty worried you've seen him here in town. Nobody's seen him around today. They would have told me if they did. The merchant owner said, we'll keep a lookout for you. That's mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straight away. Old Betty said the merchant owner nodded in agreement as he handed over her weekly pay. Old Betty fussed to herself all the way home. It wasn't like Rawhead to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the merchant always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback and Rawhead never missed a visit. When the old conjuring woman got home, she mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate. Where's that old hog got to? She asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Betty saw the good for nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest rounding up razorback hogs that didn't belong to him. One of the hogs was Rawhead. Then she saw him taking the hogs down to hog scald hollow where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then she saw her hog, Rawhead, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been her hog in his scraped clean head lying with the other hog heads in a pile. Old Betty was infuriated by the death of her only friend. Was murder to her plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Rawhead was her friend and that lazy hog stealing good for nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him. Now Old Betty tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but she knew the dark secrets to she pulled out an old secret book her granny had given her and turned to the very last page. She lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid potion of Rawhead and his bloody bones. Then she began to chant, Rawhead and Bloody Bones, Rawhead and Bloody Bones. The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Betty's cabin stood and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummeled the tree toms. Rawhead and Bloody Bones, Rawhead and Bloody Bones. Betty continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out through the window heading in the direction of hog scowled hollow. When the silver light struck Rawhead's severed head, which was piled on the hunter's wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter's wagon rumbled away towards the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Rawhead called out, Bloody Bones, get up and dance. Immediately, the Bloody Bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Rawhead had often done when he was alone with Old Betty. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Rawhead went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and Bloody Bones. Then, Rawhead headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter that had slaughtered him. Rawhead slipped past the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Rawhead climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home. Rawhead was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Rawhead in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft. The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn. Good Lord, what have you got those big eyes for? He snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask. To see your grave, Rawhead rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall. Very funny, the hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Rawhead had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bear's claws could clearly be seen. What have you got those big claws for? He snapped, you look ridiculous. To dig your grave, Rawhead intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter's neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound if it really was a crazy kid. Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Rawhead slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Rawhead raced through the trees and up the pass to a large moonlit rock. He hid in the shadow of a huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail. When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Rawhead, he gasped, you nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid. What have you got that crazy tail for? To sweep your grave. Rawhead boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced past the old well house, past the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Rawhead was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Rawhead leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror, up at Rawhead's gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hog's head, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon's tail, and his gleaming sharp panther teeth. What, what have you got those big teeth for? He gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him. To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me, Rawhead roared, descending upon the good for nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence and the sound of crunching. Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge.