Nights with Uncle Remus (42 page)

“ ‘Heyo, Brer B'ar, how you come on? I 'low'd I yeard you snortin' in yer, en I des drapt in fer ter see.'

“Brer B'ar tell him howdy, but he sorter keep one eye on 'im. Little Wattle Weasel 'low:

“ ‘En you got ticks on yo' back, Brer B'ar?'

“Wid dat Wattle Weasel 'gun ter rub Brer B'ar on de back en scratch 'im on de sides, en 'twant long 'fo' he 'uz stretch out fast asleep en sno'in' lak a saw-mill. Co'se Wattle Weasel git de butter. Brer B'ar he got marked down, and den de creeturs aint know w'at dey gwine do skacely.

“Some say sen' fer Brer Rabbit, some say sen' fer Brer Tarrypin; but las dey sent fer Brer Rabbit. Brer Rabbit, he tuck a notion dat dey 'uz fixin' up some kinder trick on im, en dey hatter beg mightily, mon, 'fo' he 'ud come en set up 'long side er dey butter.

“But bimeby he 'greed, en he went down ter de spring-house en look roun'. Den he tuck'n got 'im a twine string, en hide hisse'f whar he kin keep he eye on de noggin er butter. He ain't wait long 'fo' yer come Wattle Weasel. Des ez he 'bout ter nibble at de butter, Brer Rabbit holler out:

“ ‘Let dat butter 'lone!'

“Wattle Weasel jump back lak de butter bu'nt'im. He jump back, he did, en say:

“ ‘Sho'ly dat mus' be Brer Rabbit!'

“ ‘De same. I 'low'd you'd know me. Des let dat butter 'lone.'

“ ‘Des lemme git one little bit er tas'e, Brer Rabbit.'

“ ‘Des let dat butter 'lone.'

“Den Wattle Weasel say he want er run a race. Brer Rabbit 'low he tired. Wattle Weasel 'low he want er play hidin'. Brer Rabbit 'low dat all he hidin' days is pas' en gone. Wattle Weasel banter'd en banter'd 'im, en bimeby Brer Rabbit come up wid a banter er he own.

“ ‘I'll take'n tie yo' tail,' sezee, ‘en you'll take'n tie mine, en den we'll see w'ich tail de strongest.' Little Wattle Weasel know how weakly Brer Rabbit tail is, but he aint know how strong Brer Rabbit bin wid he tricks. So dey tuck'n tie der tails wid Brer Rabbit twine string.

Wattle Weasel wuz ter stan' inside en Brer Rabbit wuz ter stan' outside en dey wuz ter pull 'g'in one er n'er wid dey tails. Brer Rabbit, he tuck'n slip out'n de string, en tie de een' 'roun' a tree root, en den he went en peep at Wattle Weasel tuggin' en pullin'. Bimeby Wattle Weasel 'low:

“ ‘Come en ontie me, Brer Rabbit, kaze you done outpull me.'

“Brer Rabbit sot dar, he did, en chaw he cud, en look lak he feel sorry 'bout sump'n. Bimeby all de creeturs come fer ter see 'bout dey butter, kaze dey fear'd Brer Rabbit done make way wid it. Yit w'en dey see little Wattle Weasel tie by de tail, dey make great miration 'bout Brer Rabbit, en dey 'low he de smartest one er de whole gang.”

LVI

There was some comment and some questions were asked by the little boy in regard to Wattle Weasel and the other animals; to all of which Uncle Remus made characteristic response. Aunt Tempy sat with one elbow on her knee, her head resting in the palm of her fat hand. She gazed intently into the fire, and seemed to be lost in thought. Presently she exclaimed:—

“Well, de Lord he'p my soul!”

“Dat's de promise, Sis Tempy,” said Uncle Remus, solemnly.

Aunt Tempy laughed, as she straightened herself in her chair, and said:

“I des knowed dey wuz sump'n n'er gwine cross my min' w'en I year talk 'bout dat ar sheep by de chinkapin tree.”

“Out wid it, Sis Tempy,” said Uncle Remus, by way of encouragement; “out wid it; free yo' min', en des make yo'se'f welcome.”

“No longer'n Sunday 'fo' las', I'uz cross dar at de Spivey place un I tuck'n year'd a nigger man tellin' de same tale, un I 'low ter myse'f dat I'd take'n take it un kyar' it home un gin it out w'en I come ter pass de time wid Brer Remus un all uv um. I 'low ter myse'f I'll take it un kyar' it dar, un I'll des tell it my own way.”

“Well, den,” said Uncle Remus, approvingly, “me en dish yer chap, we er willin' en a waitin', en ez fer Brer Jack over dar, we kin say de same fer him, kaze I up en year 'im draw mighty long breff des now lak he fixin' fer ter snort. But your neenter min' dat ole creetur, Sis Tempy. Des push right ahead.”

“Ah-h-h-e-e!” exclaimed Daddy Jack, snapping his bright little eyes at Uncle Remus with some display of irritation; “you tek-a me fer be sleep ebry tam I shed-a me y-eye, you is mek fool-a you'se'f.
Warrah yarrah garrah tarrah!
”
⁹³

“Brer Remus!” said Aunt Tempy, in an awed whisper, “maybe he's a cunju'n un you.”

“No-no!” exclaimed Daddy Jack, snappishly, “me no cuncher no'n' 'tall. Wun me cuncher you all you yeddy bone crack. Enty!”

“Well, in de name er de Lord, don't come a cunju'n wid me, kaze I'm des as peaceable ez de day's long,” said Aunt Tempy.

Uncle Remus smiled and closed his eyes with an air of disdain, caught from his old Mistress, the little boy's grandmother, long since dead.

“Tell yo' tale, Sis Tempy,” he said pleasantly, “en leave de talk er cunju'n ter de little nigger childun. We er done got too ole fer dat kinder foolishness.”

This was for the ear of the little boy. In his heart Uncle Remus was convinced that Daddy Jack was capable of changing himself into the blackest of black cats, with swollen tail, arched back, fiery eyes, and protruding fangs. But the old man's attitude reassured Aunt Tempy, as well as the child, and forthwith she proceeded with her story:—

“Hit seem like dat one time w'en Brer Rabbit fine hisse'f way off in de middle er de woods, de win' strike up un 'gun ter blow. Hit blow down on de groun' un it blow up in de top er de timber, un it blow so hard twel terreckerly Brer Rabbit tuck a notion dat he better git out fum dar 'fo' de timber 'gun ter fall.

“Brer Rabbit, he broke 'en run, un, Man—Sir!
⁹⁴
w'en dat creetur run'd he run'd, now you year wat I tell yer! He broke un run, he did, un he fa'rly flew 'way fum dar. W'iles he gwine 'long full tilt, he run'd ag'in' ole Mr. Lion. Mr. Lion, he hail 'im;

“ ‘Heyo, Brer Rabbit! W'at yo' hurry?'

“ ‘Run, Mr. Lion, run! Dey's a harrycane comin' back dar in de timbers. You better run!'

“Dis make Mr. Lion sorter skeer'd. He 'low:

“ ‘I mos' too heavy fer ter run fur, Brer Rabbit. W'at I gwine do?'

“ ‘Lay down, Mr. Lion, lay down! Git close ter de groun'!'

“Mr. Lion shake his head. He 'low:

“ ‘Ef win' lierbul fer ter pick up little man like you is, Brer Rabbit, w'at it gwine do wid big man like me?'

“ ‘Hug a tree, Mr. Lion, hug a tree!'

“Mr. Lion lash hisse'f wid his tail. He 'low:

“ ‘W'at I gwine do ef de win' blow all day un a good part er de night, Brer Rabbit?'

“ ‘Lemme tie you ter de tree, Mr. Lion! lemme tie you ter de tree!'

“Mr. Lion, he tuk'n 'gree ter dis, un Brer Rabbit, he got 'im a hick'ry split
⁹⁵
un tie 'im hard un fast ter de tree. Den he tuck'n sot down, ole Brer Rabbit did, un wash his face un han's des same ez you see de cats doin'. Terreckerly Mr. Lion git tired er stan'in' dar huggin' de tree, un he ax Brer Rabbit w'at de reason he aint keep on runnin', un Brer Rabbit, he up'n 'low dat he gwine ter stay der un take keer Mr. Lion.

“Terreckerly Mr. Lion say he aint year no harrycane. Brer Rabbit say he aint needer. Mr. Lion say he aint year no win' a-blowin'. Brer Rabbit say he aint needer. Mr. Lion say he aint so much ez year a leaf a-stirrin'. Brer Rabbit say he aint needer. Mr. Lion sorter study, un Brer Rabbit sot dar, he did, un wash his face un lick his paws.

“Terreckerly Mr. Lion ax Brer Rabbit fer ter onloose 'im. Brer Rabbit say he fear'd. Den Mr. Lion git mighty mad, un he 'gun ter beller wuss'n one er deze yer bull-yearlin's. He beller so long un he beller so loud twel present'y de t'er creeters dey 'gun ter come up fer ter see w'at de matter.

“Des soon ez dey come up, Brer Rabbit, he tuck'n 'gun ter talk biggity un strut 'roun', un, Man—Sir! w'en dem yuthers see dat Brer Rabbit done got Mr. Lion tied up, I let you know dey tuck'n walked way 'roun' 'im, un 'twuz many a long day 'fo' dey tuck'n pestered ole Brer Rabbit.”

Here Aunt Tempy paused. The little boy asked what Brother Rabbit tied Mr. Lion for; but she didn't know; Uncle Remus, however, came to the rescue.

“One time long 'fo' dat, honey, Brer Rabbit went ter de branch fer ter git a drink er water, en ole Mr. Lion tuck'n druv 'im off, en fum dat time out Brer Rabbit bin huntin' a chance fer ter ketch up wid 'im.”

“Dat's so,” said Aunt Tempy, and then she added:

“‘I 'clare I aint gwine tell you all not na'er n'er tale, dat I aint. Kaze you des set dar en you aint crack a smile fum de time I begin'. Ef dat'd a bin Brer Remus, now, dey'd a bin mo' gigglin' gwine on dan you kin shake a stick at. I'm right down mad, dat I is.”

“Well, I tell you dis, Sis Tempy,” said Uncle Remus, with unusual emphasis, “ef deze yer tales wuz des fun, fun, fun, en giggle, giggle, giggle, I let you know I'd a-done drapt um long ago. Yasser, w'en it come down ter gigglin' you kin des count ole Remus out.”

LVII

The discussion over Aunt Tempy's fragmentary story having exhausted itself, Daddy Jack turned up his coat collar until it was as high as the top of his head, and then tried to button it under his chin. If this attempt had been successful, the old African would have presented a diabolical appearance; but the coat refused to be buttoned in that style. After several attempts, which created no end of amusement for the little boy, Daddy Jack said:

“Da Lion, 'e no hab bin sma't lak Brer Rabbit. 'E strong wit' 'e fut, 'e strong wit' 'e tush, but 'e no strong wit' 'e head. 'E bery foolish, 'cep' 'e is bin hab chance fer jump 'pon dem creetur.

“One tam 'e bin come by B'er Rabbit in da road; 'e ahx um howdy; 'e ahx um wey 'e gwan. B'er Rabbit say 'e gwan git fum front de Buckra Man wut bin comin' 'long da road. B'er Rabbit say:

“ ‘Hide you'se'f, B'er Lion; da Buckra ketch-a you fer true; 'e is bin ketch-a you tam he pit 'e y-eye 'pon you; 'e mekky you sick wit' sorry. Hide fum da Buckra, B'er Lion!'

“Da Lion, 'e shekky 'e head; 'e say:

“ ‘Ki! Me no skeer da Buckra Man. I glad fer shum. I ketch um un I kyar um wey I lif; me hab da Buckra Man fer me bittle. How come you bein' skeer da Buckra Man, B'er Rabbit?'

“B'er Rabbit, look all 'bout fer see ef da Buckra bin comin'. 'E say:

“ ‘Me hab plenty reason, B'er Lion. Da Buckra Man shoot-a wit one gun. 'E r'ise um too 'e y-eye, 'e pint um stret toze you; 'e say
bang!
one tam, 'e say
bang!
two tam: dun you is bin git hu't troo da head un cripple in da leg.'

“Lion, 'e shek 'e head; 'e say:

“ ‘Me no skeer da Buckra Man. I grab-a da gun. I ketch um fer me brekwus.'

“B'er Rabbit, 'e lahff; 'e say:

“ ‘Him quare fer true. Me skeer da Buckra, me no skeer you; but you no skeer da Buckra. How come dis?'

“Da Lion lash 'e tail; 'e say:

“ ‘Me no skeer da Buckra, but me skeer da Pa'tridge; me berry skeer da Pa'tridge.'

“B'er Rabbit, 'e lahff tell 'e kin lahff no mo'. 'E say:

“ ‘How come you skeer da Pa'tridge? 'E fly wun you wink-a you' eye; 'e run un 'e fly. Hoo! me no skeer 'bout dem Pa'tridge. Me skeer da Buckra.'

“Da Lion, 'e look all 'bout fer see ef da Pa'tridge bin comin'. 'E say:

“ ‘I skeer da Pa'tridge. Wun me bin walk in da bushside, da Pa'tridge 'e hol' right still 'pon da groun' tell me come dey-dey, un dun 'e fly up'—
fud-d-d-d-d-d-e-e!
Wun 'e is bin do dat me is git-a skeer berry bahd.”

No typographical device could adequately describe Daddy Jack's imitation of the flushing of a covey of partridges, or quail; but it is needless to say that it made its impression upon the little boy. The old African went on:

“B'er Rabbit, 'e holler un lahff; 'e say:

“ ‘Me no skeer da Pa'tridge. I bin run dem up ebry day. Da no hu't-a you, B'er Lion. You hol' you' eye 'pon da Buckra Man. Da Pa'tridge, 'e no hab no gun fer shoot-a you wit'; da Buckra, 'e is bin hab one gun two tam.
⁹⁶
Let da Pa'tridge fly, B'er Lion; but wun da Buckra Man come you bes' keep in de shady side. I tell you dis, B'er Lion.'

“Da Lion, 'e stan' um down 'e no skeer da Buckra Man, un bimeby 'e say goo'-bye; 'e say 'e gwan look fer da Buckra Man fer true.

“So long tam, B'er Rabbit is bin yeddy one big fuss in da timber; 'e yeddy da Lion v'ice. B'er Rabbit foller da fuss tell 'e is bin come 'pon da Lion wey 'e layin' 'pon da groun'. Da Lion, 'e is moan; 'e is groan; 'e is cry. 'E hab hole in 'e head, one, two, three hole in 'e side; 'e holler, 'e groan. B'er Rabbit, 'e ahx um howdy. 'E say:

“ ‘Ki, B'er Lion, wey you hab fine so much trouble?'

“Da Lion, 'e moan, 'e groan, 'e cry; 'e say:

“ ‘Ow, ma Lord! I hab one hole in me head, one, two, t'ree hole in me side, me leg bin bruk!'

“B'er Rabbit bin hol' e' head 'pon one side; 'e look skeer. 'E say: