Nights with Uncle Remus (38 page)

This was the climax of a story that Uncle Remus had told a long time before, and he looked at his little partner with astonishment not unmixed with admiration.

“I 'clar' ter gracious, honey!” he exclaimed. “ef yu hol's on ter yo' pra'r's lak you does ter deze yer tales youer doin' mighty well. But don't you try ter hol' Brer Rabbit down ter one trick, you won't never keep up wid 'im in de 'roun' worl'—dat you won't.

“Ole Brer Buzzard wuz dar, en Brer Fox ax 'im fer ter watch de hole, but he ain't bin dar long 'fo' Brer Rabbit sing out:

“ ‘I got de 'vantage on you, dis whet, Brer Buzzard, I sho'ly is.'

“ ‘How dat, Brer Rabbit?'

“ ‘Kaze I kin see you, en you can't see me.'

“Wid dat Brer Buzzard stuck he head in de hole, en look up, en no sooner is he do dis dan Brer Rabbit fill he eyes full er san', en w'iles he gone ter de branch fer ter wash it out, Brer Rabbit he come down outer de holler, en went back ter whar de cow wuz; en mo' dan dat, Brer Rabbit got de ballunce un de beef.”

XLVIII

“Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, after a pause, “where did Brother Rabbit go when he got out of the hollow tree?”

“Well, sir,” exclaimed Uncle Remus, “you aint gwine ter b'leeve me, skacely, but dat owdashus creetur aint no sooner git out er dat ar tree dan he go en git hisse'f mix up wid some mo' trouble, w'ich he git mighty nigh skeer'd out'n he skin.

“W'en Brer Rabbit got out'n de holler tree, he tuck'n fling some sass back at ole Brer Buzzard, he did, en den he put out down de big road, stidder gwine 'long back home en see 'bout he fambly. He 'uz gwine 'long—
lickety-clickety, clickety-lickety
—w'en fus news you know he feel sup'n n'er, drap down 'pun 'im, en dar he wuz. Bless yo' soul, w'en Brer Rabbit kin git he 'membunce terge'er, he feel old Mr. Wildcat a huggin' 'im fum behime, en w'ispun in he year.”

“What did he whisper, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“Dis, dat' en de udder, one thing en a nudder.”

“But what did he say?”

“De way un it wuz dis,” said Uncle Remus, ignoring the child's question. “Brer Rabbit, he 'uz gallin-up down de road, en old Mr. Wildcat, he uz layin' stretch' out takin' a nap on a tree-lim' hangin' 'crosst de road. He year Brer Rabbit come a lickity-clickitin' down de road, en he des sorter fix hisse'f, en w'en Brer Rabbit come a dancin' und' de lim', all Mr. Wildcat got ter do is ter drap right down on 'im, en dar he wuz. Mr. Wildcat hug 'im right up at 'im, en laugh en w'isper in he year.”

“Well, Uncle Remus, what did he
say?
” persisted the little boy.

The old man made a sweeping gesture with his left hand that might mean everything or nothing, and proceeded to tell the story in his own way.

“Ole Mr. Wildcat hut Brer Rabbit up close en w'isper in he year. Brer Rabbit, he kick, he squall. Bimeby he ketch he breff en 'low:

“ ‘Ow! O Lordy-lory! W'at I done gone en done now?'

“Mr. Wildcat, he rub he wet nose on Brer Rabbit year, en make cole chill run up he back. Bimeby he say:

“ ‘O Brer Rabbit, I des natally loves you! You bin a-foolin' all er my cousins en all er my kinfolks, en taint bin so mighty long sence you set Cousin Fox on me, en little mo' en I'd a-to' 'im in two. O Brer Rabbit! I des natally loves you,' sezee.

“Den he laugh, en he toofs strak terge'er right close fer Brer Rabbit year. Brer Rabbit, he 'low, he did:

“ ‘Law, Mr. Wildcat, I thunk maybe you mought lak ter have Brer Fox fer supper, en dat de reason I sent 'im up ter whar you is. Hit done come ter mighty purty pass w'en folks can't be fr'en's 'ceppin' sump'n n'er step in 'twix' en 'tween um, en ef dat de case I aint gwine ter be fr'en's no mo'—dat I aint.'

“Mr. Wildcat wipe he nose on Brer Rabbit year, en he do sorter lak he studyin'. Brer Rabbit he keep on talkin'. He 'low:

“ ‘Endurin' er all dis time, is I ever pester 'long wid you, Mr. Wildcat?'

“ ‘No, Brer Rabbit, I can't say ez you is.'

“ ‘No, Mr. Wildcat, dat I ain't. Let 'lone dat, I done my level bes' fer ter he'p you out. En dough you done jump on me en skeer me scan'lous, yit I'm willin' ter do you n'er good tu'n. I year some wild turkeys yelpin' out yan', en ef you'll des lem me off dis time, I'll go out dar en call um up, en you kin make lak you dead, en dey'll come up en stretch dey neck over you, en you kin jump up en kill a whole passel un um 'fo' dey kin git out de way.'

“Mr. Wildcat stop en study, kaze ef dey er one kinder meat w'at he lak dat meat is turkey meat. Den he tuck'n ax Brer Rabbit is he jokin'. Brer Rabbit say ef he 'uz settin' off some'rs by he own-'lone se'f he mought be jokin', but how de name er goodness is he kin joke w'en Mr. Wildcat got 'im hug up so tight? Dis look so pleezy-plozzy
⁸⁶
dat 'twan't long 'fo' Mr. Wildcat 'low dat he 'uz mighty willin' ef Brer Rabbit mean w'at he say, en atter w'ile, bless yo' soul, ef you'd a-come 'long dar, you'd er seed ole Mr. Wildcat layin' stretch out on de groun' lookin' fer all de wul' des lak he done bin dead a mont', en you'd er yeard ole Brer Rabbit a yelpin' out in de bushes des lak a sho nuff tukky-hen.”

The little boy was always anxious for a practical demonstration, and he asked Uncle Remus how Brother Rabbit could yelp like a turkey-hen. For reply, Uncle Remus searched upon his rude mantel-piece until he found a reed, which he intended to use as a pipe-stem. One end of this he placed in his mouth, enclosing the other in his hands. But sucking the air through the reed with his mouth, and regulating the tone and volume by opening or closing his hands, the old man was able to produce a marvellous imitation of the call of the turkey-hen, much to the delight and astonishment of the little boy.

“Ah, Lord!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, after he had repeated the call until the child was satisfied, “manys en manys de time is I gone out in de woods wid old marster 'fo' de crack er day en call de wile turkeys right sprang up ter whar we could er kilt um wid a stick. W'en we fus move yer fum Ferginny, dey use ter come right up ter whar de barn sets, en mo'n dat I done seed old marster kill um right out dar by de front gate. But folks fum town been comin' 'roun' yer wid der p'inter dogs twel hit done got so dat ef you wanter see turkey track you gotter go down dar ter de Oconee, en dat's two mile off.”

“Did the Wildcat catch the turkeys?” the little boy inquired, when it seemed that Uncle Remus was about to give his entire attention to his own reminiscences.

“De gracious en de goodness!” exclaimed the old man. “Yer I is runnin' on en dar lays Mr. Wildcat waitin' for Brer Rabbit fer ter yelp dem trukeys up. En 'taint take 'im long nudder, kaze, bless yo' soul, ole Brer Rabbit wuz a yelper, mon.

“Sho nuff, atter w'ile yer dey come, ole Brer Gibley Gobbler wukkin' in de lead. Brer Rabbit, he run'd en meet um en gun um de wink 'bout ole Mr. Wildcat, en by de time dey git up ter whar he layin,' Brer Gibley Gobbler en all his folks wuz jined in a big 'spute. One 'low he dead, n'er one 'low he aint, n'er one 'low he stiff, udder one 'low he aint, en t'udder 'low he is. So dar dey had it. Dey stretch out dey neck en step high wid dey foot, yit dey aint git too close ter Mr. Wildcat.

“Hey lay dar, he did, en he aint move. Win' ruffle up he ha'r, yit he aint move; sun shine down 'pun 'im, yit he aint move. De turkeys dey gobble en dey yelp, but dey aint go no nigher; dey holler en dey 'spute, but dey aint go no nigher; dey stretch dey neck en dey lif' dey foot high, yit dey aint go no nigher.

“Hit keep on dis away, twel bimeby Mr. Wildcat git tired er waitin', en he jump up, he did, en make a dash at de nighest turkey; but dat turkey done fix, en w'en Mr. Wildcat come at 'im, he des riz in de a'r, en Mr. Wildcat run und' 'im. Den he tuck'n run at n'er one, en dat un fly up; en dey keep on dat away twel 'twan't long 'fo' Mr. Wildcat wuz so stiff in de j'ints en so short in de win' dat he des hatter lay down on de groun' en res', en w'en he do dis, ole Brer Gibley Gobber en all er he folks went on 'bout dey own business; but sence dat day deyer constant a 'sputin' 'long wid deyse'f en eve'ybody w'at come by. Ef yo don't b'leeve me,” with an air of disposing of the whole matter judicially, “you kin des holler at de fus' Gobbler w'at you meets, en ef he 'fuse ter holler back atter you, you kin des use my head fer a hole in de wall; en w'at mo' kin you ax dan dat?”

“What became of Brother Rabbit, Uncle Remus?”

“Well, sir, Brer Rabbit tuck'n lef' dem low-groun's. W'iles de 'sputin' wuz gwine on, he tuck'n bowed his goodbyes, en den he des put out fum dar. Nex' day ole Brer Gibley Gobbler tuck'n sent 'im a turkey wing fer ter make a fuan out'n, en Brer Rabbit, he tuck'n sent it ter Miss Meadows en de gals. En I let you know,” continued the old man, chuckling heartily to himself, “dey make great 'miration 'bout it.”

XLIX

“I speck we all dun gone en fergot ole Mr. Benjermun Ram off'n our min',” said Uncle Remus, one night, as the little boy went into the cabin with a large ram's horn hanging on his arm.

“About his playing the fiddle and getting lost in the woods!” exclaimed the child. “Oh, no, I haven't forgotten him, Uncle Remus. I remember just how he tuned his fiddle in Brother Wolf's house.”

“Dat's me!” said Uncle Remus with enthusiasm; “dat's me up en down. Mr. Ram dez ez fresh in my min' now ez he wuz de day I year de tale. Dat ole creetur wuz a sight, mon. He mos' sho'ly wuz. He wrinkly ole hawn en de shaggy ha'r on he neck make 'im look mighty servigous,
⁸⁷
en w'ence he shake he head en snort, hit seem lak he gwine ter fair paw de yeth fum und' 'im.

“Old Brer Fox bin pickin' up ole Mr. Benjermun Ram chilluns w'en dey git too fur fum home, but look lak he aint never bin git close ter de ole creetur.

“So one time w'en he 'uz comin' on down de road, talkin' 'long wid Brer Wolf, he up'n 'low, old Brer Fox did, dat he mighy hongry in de neighborhoods er de stomach. Dis make Brer Wolf look lak he 'stonish'd, en he ax Brer Fox how de name er goodness come he hongry w'en ole Mr. Benjermun Ram layin' up dar in de house des a rollin' in fat.

“Den Brer Fox tuck'n 'low, he did, dat he done bin in de habits er eatin' Mr. Benjermun Ram chillun, but he sorter fear'd er de ole creetur kaze he look so bad on de 'count er he red eye en he wrinkly hawn.

“Brer Wolf des holler en laugh, en den he 'low:

“ ‘Lordy, Brer Fox! I dunner w'at kinder man is you, nohow! W'y, dat ar ole creetur aint never hurted a flea in all he born days—dat he aint,' sezee.

“Brer Fox, he look at Brer Wolf right hard, he did, en den he up'n 'low:

“ ‘Heyo, Brer Wolf! manys de time dat yo bin hongry 'roun' in deze diggin's en I aint year talk er you makin' a meal off'n Mr. Benjermun Ram,' sezee.

“Brer Fox talk so close ter de fatal trufe, dat Brer Wolf got tooken wid de dry grins, yit he up'n 'spon', sezee:

“ ‘I des lak ter know who in de name er goodness wanter eat tough creetur lak dat ole Mr. Benjermun Ram—dat w'at I lak ter know,' sezee.

“Brer Fox, he holler an laugh, he did, en den he up'n say:

“ ‘Ah-yi, Brer Wolf! You ax me w'at I goes hongry fer, w'en ole Mr. Benjermun Ram up dar in he house, yit you done bin hongry manys en manys de time, en still ole Mr. Benjermun Ram up dar in he house. Now, den, how you gwine do in a case lak dat?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.

“Brer Wolf, he strak de e'en er he came down 'pun de groun', en he say, sezee:

“ ‘I done say all I got ter say, en w'at I say, dat I'll stick ter. Dat ole creetur lots too tough.'

“Hongry ez he is, Brer Fox laugh way down in he stomach. Atter w'ile he 'low:

“ ‘Well, den, Brer Wolf, stidder 'sputin' 'longer you, I'm gwine do w'at you say; I'm gwine ter go up dar en git a bait er ole Mr. Benjermun Ram, en I wish you be so good ez ter go 'long wid me for comp'ny,' sezee.

“Brer Wolf jaw sorter fall w'en he year dis, en he 'low:

“ ‘Eh-eh, Brer Fox! I druther go by my own 'lone se'f,' sezee.

“ ‘Well, den,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘you better make 'as'e,' sezee, ‘kaze taint gwine ter take me so mighty long fer ter go up dar en make hash out'n old Mr. Benjermun Ram,' sezee.

“Brer Wolf know mighty well,” said Uncle Remus, snapping his huge tongs in order to silence a persistent cricket in the chimney, “dat ef he dast ter back out fum a banter lak dat he never is ter year de las' un it fum Miss Meadows en Miss Motts en de gals, en he march off todes Mr. Benjermun Ram house.

“Little puff er win' come en blow'd up some leafs, en Brer Wolf jump lak somebody shootin' at 'im, en he fly mighty mad w'en he year Brer Fox laugh. He men' he gait, he did, en 'twan't 'long 'fo' he 'uz knockin' at Mr. Benjermun Ram do'.

“He knock at de do', he did, en co'se he speck somebody fer ter come open de do', but stidder dat, lo' en beholes yer come Mr. Benjermun Ram 'roun' de house. Dar he wuz—red eye, wrinkly hawn en shaggy head. Now, den, in case lak dat, w'at a slim-legged man lak Brer Wolf gwine do? Dey aint no two ways, he gwine ter git 'way fum dar, en he went back ter whar Brer Fox is mo' samer dan ef de patter-rollers wuz atter 'im.