Chapter III: Part 3

“Mr. Elephant turn roun’ an’ roun’, he did, an’ ef he’d ’a’ been light-headed like some folks I knows, he’d ’a’ drapt right dar. Mr. Cricket watch his chance, an’ when Mr. Elephant got nigh ter King Lion, he tuck a flyin’ jump an’ lit right in King Lion’s mane, an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he made his way ter de year. But while he wuz makin’ his way dar Mr. Elephant stopped whirlin’ roun’; he stop an’ lis’n, he did, an’ he ain’t hear nothin’; he lis’n some mo’ an’ still he ain’t hear nothin’. He say, ‘I b’lieve in my soul dat I’m kyo’d! I’m mighty glad I met you-all, kaze I know one un you is a doctor, an’ ever which un it is, he sho’ has done de work.’

“By dis time, Mr. Cricket had got in King Lion year, an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he start up his whistlin’. He whistle low fer ter start wid, an’ King Lion hol’ his head sideways an’ lis’n. He say, ‘I still hears it, Mr. Elephant, an’ ef youer kyo’d I done cotch de thing you had.’ Mr. Cricket went a little louder, an’ King Lion ’gun ter back off like he had business ter ten’ ter. Mr. Tiger say, ‘Whar you gwine? I hope you ain’t skeer’d er Brer Elephant, kaze he ain’t gwineter hurt you. Ef you gwine any whar, you better turn ’roun’ an’ go right.’

“But King Lion ain’t pay no ’tention ter Mr. Tiger; he des back off, he did, an’ wave his tail an’ shake his mane. Mr. Cricket ’gun ter whistle louder an’ flutter his wings, an’ make um zoon like a locus’. King Lion say, ‘I hear de win’ a-blowin’ an’ I better git home ter my wife an’ chillun,’ an’ off he put, runnin’ like he wuz gwine atter de doctor. Mr. Tiger laugh, an’ say dat some folks is so funny he dunner what ter make un um. Dey stayed dar confabbin’, an’ bimeby dey hear a fuss, an’ here come King Lion gwine ez hard ez he kin. Tryin’ fer ter git away fum de fuss in his year, he had run all roun’ twel he come back ag’in ter whar he start fum. He had his tongue out, an’ his tail wuz droopin’; he wuz mighty nigh wo’ out.

“He say, ‘Heyo! what you-all doin’ here? I had de idee dat I lef’ you back yander whar I come fum.’ Mr. Elephant ’low, ‘We ain’t skacely move out ’n our tracks. You run away an’ lef’ us, an’ here you is back; what de name er goodness is de matter wid you?’ King Lion say, ‘I done got a whistlin’ in my head, an’ look like I can’t ’scape fum it. It’s in dar yit, an’ I dunner what I’m gwine ter do ’bout it.’ Mr. Elephant say, ‘Do like I done--stan’ it de bes’ you kin.’ Brer Tiger ’low, ‘I hear it, an’ it soun’ zactly like you wuz ’bout ter bile over, an’ when you does I wanter be out’n de way.’

“By dat time little Mr. Cricket had done made a flyin’ jump an’ lit on Mr. Tiger, an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he wuz snug in Mr. Tiger year. Mr. Tiger lis’n, he did, an’ den he ’gun ter back off an’ wave his tail. Mr. Elephant swing his snout, an’ say, ‘What de matter, Mr. Tiger? I hope you ain’t thinkin’ ’bout leavin’ us.’ But Mr. Tiger wuz done gone. He des flit away. Long ’bout dat time, Mr. Rabbit come lopin’ up, laughin’ fit ter kill. He ’low, ‘Brer Cricket say he gwine ter make you-all run an’ dat’s des what he done. Bofe un you been runnin’ kaze I see you pantin’, an’ ef you’ll des wait here, Mr. Cricket will fetch Mr. Tiger back safe an’ soun’,’ an’ dey ain’t had ter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby, here come Mr. Tiger, tongue out an’ tail a-droopin’. He say, ‘Hello! how come you-all ter outrun me? I got de idee dat you wuz back yander in de woods whar I come fum,’ an’ den dey got ter laughin’ at ’im, an’ dey laugh twel dey can’t laugh no mo’. Mr. Cricket jump outer Mr. Tiger’s year, an’ git in de grass, an’ bimeby he show hisse’f.

“He come close up wid a ‘Howdy do, gents?’ an’ dey pass de time day wid ’im. Bimeby Mr. Elephant ’low, ‘Mr. Cricket, ain’t you say de yuther day dat you wuz gwineter make we-all run?’ an’ Mr. Cricket, he make answer, ‘Why, I wouldn’t talk ’bout runnin’ ef I’d been runnin’ same ez what you been doin’.’ Mr. Elephant swing his snout kinder slow an’ say, ‘How you know I been runnin’?’ Mr. Cricket ’low, ‘I know bekaze ef I hadn’t er helt on monstus tight, I’d ’a’ fell off; mo’ dan dat, ef I hadn’t er stopped singin’ an’ whistlin’ you’d ’a’ been runnin’ yit.’ Mr. Elephant shot his two little eyes, an’ say, ‘Well, suh!’”

“What did the others do?” the little boy inquired, when he was sure that the story was ended.

“Dey mos’ly got ’way fum dem parts, kaze dey wuz skeer’d Mr. Cricket would git on um ag’in. King Lion say he got ter look atter some fresh meat what he got, Mr. Elephant say he bleeze ter go an’ cut some grass, an’ Mr. Tiger ’low dat he got ter hunt up some vittles fer his fambly. An’ ez fer Mr. Cricket, he clomb on Brer Rabbit’s back, an’ dey mosied off somers, I dunner whar. All I know is dat dey giggle ez dey went.”

VI

WHEN BROTHER RABBIT WAS KING

One afternoon, while Uncle Remus was sitting in the sun, he felt so comfortable and thankful for all the blessings that he enjoyed, and for those that he had seen others enjoy, that he suddenly closed his eyes; and he had no sooner done so than he drifted across the dim and pleasant borderland that lies somewhere between sleeping and waking. He must have drifted back again immediately, for it seemed that he was not so fast asleep that he was unable to hear the sound of stealthy footsteps somewhere near him. Instantly he was on the alert, but still kept his eyes closed. He knew at once that the little boy was trying to surprise him. The lad had improved much in health since coming to the plantation, and with the growth of his strength had come a certain degree of boisterousness that his mother thought was somewhat unusual, but which his grandmother and Uncle Remus knew was the natural result of good health.

By opening one eye a trifle, Uncle Remus could watch the youngster, who was creeping, Indian-like, upon him, and this gave the old negro an immense advantage, for just as the little boy was about to jump at him, Uncle Remus straightened himself in his chair and uttered a blood-curdling yell that would have alarmed a much larger and older person than the lad. As a matter of fact, the little fellow was almost paralyzed with fright, and for a moment or two could hardly get his breath.

“Why, what in the world is the matter with you, Uncle Remus?” he asked as soon as he could speak.

“Wuz dat you comin’ ’long dar, honey?” said Uncle Remus, by way of response. “Well, ef ’twuz, you kin des go up dar ter de big house an’ tell um all dat you saved my life, kaze dat what you done. Dey ain’t no tellin’ what would ’a’ happen ef you hadn’t ’a’ come creepin’ ’long an’ woke me up, kaze whiles I wuz dozin’ dar I wuz on a train, an’ de bullgine look like it wuz runnin’ away. ’Twant one er deze yer ’commydatin’ trains, kaze de man what tuck up de tickets say he wa’n’t in no hurry fer ter see how fur anybody gwine; dey wuz all boun’ fer de same place, an’ when dey got dar dey’d know it. De kyars wuz lined wid caliker, an’ de brakeman wuz made out’n straw. It went on, it did, an’ de bullgine run faster an’ faster twel it run so fast you couldn’t hear it toot fer brakes, an’ des ’bout de time dat eve’ything wuz a gittin’ smashed up, here you come an’ wokened me--an’ a mighty good thing, kaze ef I’d ’a’ stayed on dat train dey wouldn’t ’a’ been ’nough er me left fer de congergation ter sing a song over. I’m mighty thankful dat dey’s somebody got sense ’nough fer ter come ’long an’ skeer me out er my troubles.”

This statement was intended to change the course of the little boy’s thoughts--to cause him to forget that he had been frightened--and it was quite successful, for he began to talk about dreams in general, telling some peculiar ones of his own, such as children have.

“Talkin’ ’bout dreams,” remarked Uncle Remus, “it put me in min’ er de man what been sick off an’ on, an’ he hatter be mighty keerful er his eatin’. One night he had a dream. It seemed like dat somebody come ’long an’ gi’ him a great big hunk er ol’ time ginger-cake, an’ it smell so sweet an’ taste so good dat he e’t ’bout a poun’. He wuz eatin’ it in his sleep, but de dream wuz so natchal dat de nex’ mornin’ dey hatter sen’ fer de doctor, an’ ’twuz e’en ’bout all dey could do fer ter pull ’im thoo. De doctor gun ’im all de truck what he had in his saddle-bags, an’ ’low dat he b’lieve in his soul he’d hatter sen’ fer mo’, an’ den atter dat he tuck an’ lay down de law ter de man. He say dat whatsomever else he mought do, he better not eat no ginger-cakes in his dreams, kaze de next un ’ud be sho’ fer ter take ’im off spite er all de doctor truck in de roun’ worl’.”

Then the little boy told of a dream he had had. It seems that he had slipped into the pantry, when no one was looking, and had taken a piece of apple-pie. It wasn’t stealing, he said, for he knew that if he asked his grandmother for a piece she would have given it to him; but he didn’t want to bother her while she was talking to the sewing-woman, and so he just went in the pantry and got it for himself. Perhaps he took a larger piece than his grandmother would have given him, but he had nothing to measure it by, and so he was compelled to guess how much she would have given him.

“I boun’ you stretched yo’ guesser, honey,” said Uncle Remus dryly.

The child admitted with a laugh that perhaps he had, and he was very sorry of it afterwards, for when he went to bed he dreamed that something scratched at his door and made such a fuss that he was obliged to get up and let it in. He didn’t wait to see what it was, but just flung the door open, and ran and jumped back in bed, pulling the cover over his head. In the dream he lay right still and listened. Everything was so quiet that he became curious, and finally ventured to look out from under the cover. Well, sir, the sight that he saw was enough, for between the door and the bed a big black dog was lying. He seemed to be very tired, for his tongue hung out long and red, and he was panting as though he had come a long way in a very short time.

Uncle Remus groaned in sympathy. The black dog that gallops through a dream with his tongue hanging out was one of his familiars. “I know dat dog,” he said. “He got a bunch er white on de een’ er his tail, an’ his eyeballs look like dey green in de dark. You call him an’ he’ll growl, call him ag’in, an’ he’ll howl. I’d know dat dog ef I wuz ter see him in de daytime--I’d know him so well dat I’d run an’ ax somebody fer ter please, suh, wake me up, an’ do it mighty quick.”

The little boy didn’t know anything about that; what he did know was that the dog in his dream, when he had rested himself, jumped up on the bed, and began to nose at the cover, and he seemed to get mad when he failed to pull it off the little boy. He tried and tried, and then he seized a corner of the counterpane, or the spread, or whatever you call it, and shook it with his teeth. When he grew tired of this, the little boy could hear him smelling all about over the bed, and then he knew the creature was hunting for the piece of apple-pie.

Uncle Remus agreed with the child about this. “’Cordin’ ter my notion,” he said, “when folks slip ’roun’ an’ take dat what don’t b’long ter um er dat what dey oughtn’t ter have by good rights, de big black dog is sho’ ter come ’roun’ growlin’ an’ smellin’ atter dey goes ter bed. Dey ain’t no two ways ’bout dat. Dey may not know it, dey may be too sleepy fer ter see ’im in der dreams, but de dog’s dar. Mo’ dan dat, dogs will growl an’ smell ’roun’ ef deyer in dreams er outer dreams. Dey got in de habits er smellin’ ’way back yander in de days when ol’ Brer Rabbit had tooken de place er de King one time when de King wanter go off down de country fishin’.”

The little boy seemed to be very much interested in this information, but while they were speaking of this curious habit that is common to dogs, a hound that had been raised on the place came into view. He was going at a gallop, as if he had important business to attend to, but when he had galloped past a large tree, he paused suddenly, and turned back to investigate it with his nose; and though he was entirely familiar with the tree, it seemed to be new to him now, for he smelled all around the trunk of it and was apparently much perplexed. Whatever information he received was sufficient to cause him to forget all about the business that had caused him to come galloping past the tree, for when his investigation had ended, he turned about and went back the way he had come.

“Now, you see dat, don’t you?” exclaimed Uncle Remus, with some show of indignation. “Ain’t it des a little mo’ dan you wanter stan’? Here he come, gwine, I dunner whar, des a-gallin’-up like he done been sent fer. He come ter dat ar tree, he did, an’ went on by--spang by!--an’ den ’fo’ you kin bat yo’ eyeball, whiff, he turn roun’ an’ go ter smellin’ at de tree, des like he ain’t never seed it befo’; an’ he must ’a’ got some kind er news whar he smellin’ at, kaze atter he smell twel it look like he gwineter smell de bark clean off, he fergit all ’bout whar he gwine, an’ tuck his tail an’ go on back whar he come fum. Maybe you know sump’n ’bout it, honey--you an’ de balance er de white folks, but me--I’m bofe blin’ an’ deff when it come ter tellin’ you what de dog foun’ out. I may know what make ’im smell at de tree, but what news he got I never is ter tell you.”

“Well, you know you said that dogs got in the habit of smelling away back yonder when old Brother Rabbit took the place of the King, who had gone fishing. I was wondering if that was a story.”

“Wuz you, honey?” Uncle Remus asked with a pleased smile. “Well, you sho’ is got a dumplin’ eye fer de kinder tales what I tells. I b’lieve ef I wuz ter take one er dem ol’-time tales an’ skin it an’ drag de hide thoo de house an’ roun’ de lot--ef I wuz ter do dat, I b’lieve you’d open up on de trail same ez ol’ Louder follerin’ on atter Brer Possum; I sho’ does!”

The child seemed to appreciate the compliment, and he laughed in a way that did the old negro a world of good. “I have found out one thing,” said the little boy with emphasis. “Whenever you are hinting at a story, you always look at me out of the corner of your eye, and there’s always a funny little wrinkle at the corner of your mouth.”

“Well, suh!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, gleefully; “well, suh! an’ me a-settin’ right here an’ doin’ dat a-way ’fo’ yo’ face an’ eyes! I never would ’a’ ’speckted it. Peepin’ out de cornder er my eyeball, an’ a-wrinklin’ at de mouf! It look like I mus’ be gettin’ ol’ an’ fibble in de min’.” He chuckled as proudly as if some one had given him a piece of pound-cake of which he was very fond. But presently his chuckling ceased, and he leaned back in his chair with a serious air.

“I dunno so mighty well ’bout all de yuther times you talkin’ ’bout, honey, but when I say what I did ’bout ol’ Brer Rabbit takin’ de place er der King, I sho’ had a tale in my min’. I say tale, but I dunner what you’ll say ’bout it; you kin name it atter you git it. Well, way back yander, mos’ ’fo’ de time when folks got in de habits er dreamin’ dreams, dey wuz a King an’ dish yer King king’d it over all un um what wuz dar, mo’ speshually de creeturs, kaze what folks dey wuz ain’t know nothin’ ’tall ’bout whedder dey need any kingin’ er not; look like dey didn’t count.

“Well, dish yer King what I’m a-tellin’ you ’bout had purty well grow’d up at de business, and de time come when he got mighty tired er settin’ in one place an’ hol’in’ a crown on his head fer ter keep it fum fallin’ on de flo’. He say ter hisse’f dat he wanter git out an’ git de fresh a’r, an’ have some fun ’long wid dem what he been kingin’ over. He ’low dat he wanter fix it so dat he ain’t a-keerin’ whedder school keep er no, an’ he ax um all what de best thing he kin do. Well, one say one thing an’ de yuther say t’other, but bimeby some un um chipped in an’ say dat de best way ter have fun is ter go fishin’, an’ dis kinder hit de King right in de middle er his notions.

“He jump up an’ crack his heels tergedder, he did, an’ he say dat dat’s what he been thinkin’ ’bout all de time. A-fishin’ it wuz an’ a-fishin’ he’d go, ef his life wuz spar’d twel he kin git ter de creek. An’, wid dat, dey wuz a mighty stirrin’ roun’ ’mongs’ dem what he wuz a-kingin’ over; some un um run off ter git fishin’-poles, an’ some run fer ter dig bait, an’ some run fer ter git de bottle, an’ dar dey had it--you’d ’a’ thunk dat all creation wuz gwine fishin’.”

“Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, interrupting the old man, “what did they want with a bottle?”

The old man looked at the child with a puzzled expression on his face. “De bottle?” he asked with a sigh. “I b’lieve I did say sump’n ’bout de bottle. I dunner whedder it ’uz a long white bottle er a chunky black un. Dem what handed de tale down ter me ain’t say what kinder one it wuz, an’ I’m fear’d ter say right short off dat it ’uz one er de yuther. We’ll des call it a plain, eve’yday bottle an’ let it go at dat.”

“But what did they want with a bottle, Uncle Remus?” persisted the little boy.

“You ain’t never been fishin’, is you honey? An’ you ain’t never see yo’ daddy go fishin’. All I know is dat whar dey’s any fishin’ gwine on, you’ll fin’ a bottle some’rs in de neighborhoods ef you’ll scratch about in de bushes. Well, de creeturs done like folks long ’fo’ folks got ter doin’ dat a-way, an’ when dish yer King went a-fishin’, he had ter have a bottle fer ter put de bait in.

“When eve’ything got good an’ ready, an’ de King wuz ’bout ter start off, ol’ Brer Rabbit kinder hung his head on one side an’ set up a snigger. De King, he look ’stonish an’ den he ’low, ‘What’s de joke, ol’ frien’?’ ‘Well,’ sez ol’ Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘it look like ter me dat you ’bout ter go off an’ fergit sump’n. ’Tain’t none er my business, but I couldn’t he’p fum gigglin’.’ De King, he say, ‘Up an’ out wid it, ol’ frien’; le’s hear de wust dey is ter hear.’ Ol’ Brer Rabbit, he say, sezee, ‘I dunner ef it makes any diffunce, but who gwine ter do de kingin’ whiles you gone a-fishin’?’

“Well, de King look like he wuz might’ly tuck back; he flung up bofe han’s an’ sot right flat in a cheer, an’ den he ’low, ‘I done got so dat I’m de fergittines’ creetur what live on top er de groun’; you may hunt high an’ low an’ you won’t never fin’ dem what kin beat me a-fergittin’. Here I wuz ’bout fer ter go off an’ leave de whole business at sixes an’ sev’ms.’ Ol’ Brer Rabbit, he say, sezee, ‘Oh, I speck dat would ’a’ been all right; dey ain’t likely ter be no harrycane, ner no fresh’ whiles you gone.’ De King, he ’low, ‘Dat ain’t de thing; here I wuz ’bout ter go off on a frolic an’ leave eve’ything fer ter look atter itse’f. What yo’ reckon folks would ’a’ said? I tell you now, dey ain’t no fun in bein’ a King, kaze yo’ time ain’t yo’ own, an’ you can’t turn roun’ widout skinnin’ yo’ shins on some by-law er ’nother. ’Fo’ I go, ef go I does, I got ter ’p’int somebody fer ter take my place an’ be King whiles I’m gone; an’ ef ’twant dat, it’d be sump’n’ else, an’ so dar you go year in an’ year out.’

“He sot dar, he did, an’ study an’ study, an’ bimeby he say, sezee, ‘Brer Rabbit, s’posin’ you take my place whiles I’m gone? I’ll pay you well; all you got to do is ter set right flat in a cheer an’ make a dollar a day.’ Ol’ Brer Rabbit say dat would suit him mighty well, kaze he bleeze fer ter have some money so he kin buy his ol’ ’oman a caliker dress. Well, it ain’t take um long fer ter fix it all up, an’ so Brer Rabbit, he done de kingin’ whiles de King gone a-fishin’. He made de job a mighty easy one, kaze stidder settin’ up an’ hol’in’ de crown on his head, he tied some strings on it an’ fix it so it’d stay on his head widout hol’in’.

“Well, when de King went a-fishin’, he went de back way, an’ he ain’t mo’ dan got out de gate twel ol’ Brer Rabbit hear a big rumpus in de front yard. He hear sump’n’ growlin’ an’ howlin’ an’ whinin’, an’ he ax what it wuz. Some er dem what wait on de King shuck der heads an’ say dat ef de King wuz dar he wouldn’t pay no ’tention ter de racket fer der longest; dey say dat de biggest kind er fuss ain’t ’sturb de King, kaze he’d des set right flat an’ wait fer some un ter come tell somebody what de rumpus is ’bout, an’ den dat yuther somebody would tell some un else, an’ maybe ’bout dinner-time de King would fin’ out what gwine on, when all he hatter do wuz ter look out de winder an’ see fer hisse’f.

“When ol’ Brer Rabbit hear dat, he lay back ez well ez he kin wid dat ar crown on top er his head, an’ make out he takin’ a nap. Atter so long a time, word come dat Mr. Dog wuz out dar in de entry whar dey all hatter wait at, an’ he sont word dat he bleeze ter see de King. Ol’ Brer Rabbit, he sot dar, he did, an’ do like he studyin’, an’ atter so long a time, he tell um fer ter fetch Mr. Dog in an’ let him say what he got ter say. Well, Mr. Dog come creepin’ in, he did, an’ he look mighty ’umble-come-tumble. He wuz so po’ dat it look like you can see eve’y bone in his body an’ he wuz mangy lookin’. His head hung down, an’ he wuz kinder shiverin’ like he wuz col’. Brer Rabbit make out he tryin’ fer ter fix de crown on his head so it’ll set up straight, but all de time he wuz lookin’ at Mr. Dog fer ter see ef he know’d ’im--an’ sho’ ’nough, he did, kaze it uz de same Mr. Dog what done give him many a long chase.

“Well, Mr. Dog, he stood dar wid his head hangin’ down an’ his tail ’tween his legs. Eve’ything wuz so still an’ sollum dat he ’gun ter git oneasy, an’ he look roun’ fer ter see ef dey’s any way fer ter git out widout runnin’ over somebody. Dey ain’t no way, an’ so Mr. Dog sorter wiggle de een’ er his tail fer ter show dat he ain’t mad, an’ he stood dar ’specktin’ dat eve’y minnit would be de nex’.

“Bimeby, somebody say, ‘Who dat wanter see de King an’ what business is he got wid ’im?’ When Mr. Dog hear dat, de howl dat he sot up mought ’a’ been heern a mile er mo’. He up an’ ’low, he did, dat him an’ all his tribe, an’ mo’ speshually his kinnery, is been havin’ de wuss times dat anybody ever is hear tell un. He say dat whar dey use ter git meat, dey now gits bones, an’ mighty few er dem, an’ whar dey use ter be fat, dey now has ter lean up ag’in de fence, an’ lean mighty hard, ef dey wanter make a shadder. Mr. Dog had lots mo’ ter say, but de long an’ de short un it wuz dat him an’ his kinnery wa’n’t treated right.

“Ol’ Brer Rabbit, which he playin’ King fer de day, he kinder study, an’ den he cle’r up his th’oat an’ look sollum. He ax ef dey’s any turkentime out dar in de back yard er in de cellar whar dey keep de harness grease, an’ when dey say dey speck dey’s a drap er two lef’, ol’ Brer Rabbit tell um fer ter fetch it in, an’ den he tell um ter git a poun’ er red pepper an’ mix it wid de turkentime. So said, so done. Dey grab Mr. Dog, an’ rub de turkentime an’ red pepper frum head ter heel, an’ when he holler dey run ’im out’n de place whar de kingin’ wuz done at.

“Well, time went on, an’ one day follered an’er des like dey does now, an’ Mr. Dog ain’t never gone back home, whar his tribe an’ his kinnery wuz waitin’ fer ’im. Dey wait, an’ dey wait, an’ bimeby dey ’gun ter git oneasy. Den dey wait some mo’ but it git so dey can’t stan’ it no longer, an’ den a whole passel un um went ter de house whar dey do de kingin’ at, an’ make some inquirements ’bout Mr. Dog. Dem dat live at de King’s house up an’ tell um dat Mr. Dog done come an’ gone. Dey say he got what he come atter, an’ ef he ain’t gone back home dey dunner whar he is. Dey tol’ ’bout de po’ mouf he put up, an’ dey say dat dey gun ’im purty well all dat a gen’termun dog could ax fer.

“De yuther dogs say dat Mr. Dog ain’t never come back home, an’ dem what live at de King’s house say dey mighty sorry fer ter hear sech bad news, an’ dey tell de dogs dat dey better hunt ’im up an’ fin’ out what he done wid dat what de king gi’ ’im. De dogs ax how dey gwineter know ’im when dey fin’ him, an’ dem at de King’s house say dey kin tell ’im by de smell, kaze dey put some turkentime an’ red pepper on ’im fer ter kill de fleas an’ kyo de bites. Well, sence dat day de yuther dogs been huntin’ fer de dog what went ter de King’s house; an’ how does dey hunt? ’Tain’t no needs fer ter tell you, honey, kaze you know pine-blank ez good ez I kin tell you. Sence dat day an’ hour dey been smellin’ fer ’im. Dey smells on de groun’ fer ter see ef he been ’long dar; dey smells de trees, de stumps, an’ de bushes, an’ when dey comes up wid an’er dog dat dey ain’t never seed befo’, dey smells him good fer ter see ef he got any red pepper an’ turkentime on ’im; an’ ef you’ll take notice dey sometimes smells at a bush er a stump, an’ der bristles will rise, an’ dey’ll paw de groun’ wid der fo’ feet, an’ likewise wid der behime feet, an’ growl like deyer mad. When dey do dat, dey er tellin’ you what dey gwineter do when dey git holt er dat dog what went to de King’s house an’ ain’t never come back. I may be wrong, but I’ll bet you a white ally ag’in’ a big long piece er mince-pie dat dey’ll be gwine on dat a-way when you git ter be ol’ ez I is.”

VII

HOW OLD CRANEY-CROW LOST HIS HEAD

One day, while Uncle Remus was preparing some wild cherry bark for a decoction which he took for his rheumatism, the little boy, who was an interested spectator of the proceedings, chanced to hear a noise overhead. Looking up, he saw a very large bird flying over. He immediately called the attention of Uncle Remus to the bird, which was indeed a singular-looking creature. Its long neck stretched out in front, and its long legs streamed out behind. Its wings were not very large, and it had no tail to speak of, but it flew well and rapidly, apparently anxious to reach its destination in the shortest possible time.

Uncle Remus shaded his eyes with his right hand as he gazed upward at the bird. “Laws-a-mussy!” he exclaimed; “is dey anybody yever see de beat er dat!” He knew well that the bird was a blue heron going to join its kindred in Florida, but he affected great surprise at sight of the bird, and continued to gaze at it as long as it remained in sight. He drew a long breath when it could no longer be seen, and shook his head sadly. “Ef she ain’t got no mo’ sense dan what her great-grandaddy had, I’m mighty sorry fer her,” he declared.

“What kind of a bird is it, Uncle Remus?” the child inquired.

“Folks useter call um Craney-Crows, honey, but now dey ain’t got no name but des plain blue crane--an’ I dunner whedder dey er wuff sech a big name. Yit I ain’t got nothin’ ag’in um dat I knows un. Mo’ dan dat, when I ermembers ’bout de ol’ grandaddy crane what drifted inter deze parts, many’s de long time ago, ’twouldn’t take much fer ter make me feel right sorry fer de whole kit an’ bilin’ un um--dey er sech start natchul fools.”

“But what is there to be sorry about, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked. He was rapidly learning to ask questions at the proper time.

“’Bout dey havin’ sech a little grain er sense, honey. Ef you know’d what I does, I dunner ef you’d be tickled, er ef you’d feel sorry, an’ it’s de same way wid me. When I think er dat ol’ Great-Grandaddy Crane, I dunner whedder ter laugh er cry.”

This was small satisfaction to the little boy, and he was compelled to inquire about it. As this was precisely what the old negro wanted him to do, he lost nothing by being inquisitive. “Dey wuz one time--I dunno de day, an’ I dunno de year, but ’twuz one time--dey come a big storm. De win’ blow’d a harrycane, an’ de rain rained like all de sky an’ de clouds in it done been turn ter water. De win’ blow’d so hard dat it lifted ol’ Craney-Crow fum his roost in de lagoons way down yan’ whar dey live at, an’ fotch ’im up in deze parts, an’ when he come, he come a-whirlin’. De win’ tuck ’im up, it did, an’ turn ’im roun’ an’ roun’, an’ when he lit whar he did, he stagger des like he wuz drunk--you know how you feel when you been turnin’ roun’ an’ roun’. Well, dat wuz de way wid him; he wuz so drunk dat he hatter lean up ag’in a tree.

“But ’twant long ’fo’ he ’gun ter feel all right, an’ he look roun’ fer ter see whar he at. He look an’ he look, but he ain’t fin’ out, kaze he wuz a mighty fur ways fum home. Yit he feel de water half-way up his legs, an’ ef ol’ Craney-Crow is in a place whar he kin do a little wadin’, he kinder has de home-feelin’--you know how dat is yo’se’f. Well, dar he wuz, a mighty fur ways fum home, an’ yit up ter his knees in water, an’ he des stood dar, he did, an’ tuck his ease, hopin’ fer better times bimeby. Now, de place whar he wuz blow’d ter wuz Long Cane Swamp, an’ I wish I had time fer ter take you over dar an’ show you right whar he wuz at when he lit, an’ I wish I had time fer ter take you all thoo de Swamp an’ let you see fer yo’se’f what kinder Thing it is. ’Tain’t only des a Swamp; it’s sump’n wuss ’n dat. You kin stan’ in de middle un it, an’ mos’ hear it ketch its breff, an’ dat what make I say dat ’tain’t no Swamp, fer all it look like one.

“Well, dar wuz ol’ Craney-Crow, an’ dar wuz de Thing you call de Swamp, an’ bimeby de sun riz an’ let his lamp shine in dar in places; an den’ ol’ Craney-Crow had time fer ter look roun’ an’ see whar he wuz at. But when he fin’ out, he ain’t know no mo’ dan what he know at fus’. Now, you kin say what you please, an’ you kin laugh ef you wanter, but I’m a-gwine ter tell you dat de Swamp know’d dat dey wuz somebody dar what ain’t b’long dar. Ef you ax me how de Swamp know’d, I’ll shake my head an’ shet my eyes; an’ ef you ax me how I know it know’d, I’ll des laugh at you. You’ll hatter take my word er leave it, I don’t keer which. But dar ’twuz. De Swamp know’d dat somebody wuz dar what ain’t b’long dar, an’ it went ter sleep an’ had bad dreams, an’ it keep on havin’ dem dreams all day long.”

The little boy had accepted Uncle Remus’s statements up to this point, but when he said that the Swamp went to sleep and had bad dreams, the child fairly gasped with doubtful astonishment. “Why, Uncle Remus, how could a swamp go to sleep?”

“It’s des like I tell you, honey; you kin take my word er you kin leave it. One way er de yuther, you won’t be no better off dan what you is right now. All I know is dis, dat you can’t tell no tale ter dem what don’t b’lieve it.”

“Do you believe it, Uncle Remus? Mother says the stories are fables.” Thus the little boy was imbued, without knowing it, with the modern spirit of scientific doubt.

“Does you speck I’d tell you a tale dat I don’t b’lieve? Why, I dunner how I’d put de words one atter de yuther. Whensomever you ain’t b’lievin’ what I’m a-tellin’, honey, des le’ me know, an’ I won’t take de time an’ trouble fer ter tell it.”

“Well, tell me about the Swamp and old Craney-Crow,” said the little boy, placing his small hand on Uncle Remus’s knee coaxingly.

“Well, suh, ef so be I must, den I shill. Whar wuz I? Yasser! de Swamp, bein’ wide-awake all night long, is bleeze ter sleep endurin’ er de day, an’ so, wid ol’ Craney-Crow stannin’ in de water, when de sun rise up, de Swamp know dat sump’n wuz wrong, an’ it went ter sleep an’ had mighty bad dreams. De sun riz an’ riz; it come up on one side er de Swamp, an’ atter so long a time stood over it an’ look down fer ter see what de matter. But bright ez de lamp er de sun wuz, it can’t light up de Swamp, an’ so it went on over an’ went down on t’er side.

“De day wuz in about like deze days is, an’ whiles de sun wuz s’archin’ roun’ tryin’ fer ter fin’ out what de trouble is in de Swamp, ol’ Craney-Crow wuz wadin’ ’bout in de water tryin’ ter fin’ some frog steak fer his dinner, er maybe a fish fer ter whet his appetite on. But dey wa’n’t nary frog ner nary fish, kaze de Swamp done gone ter sleep. De mo’ ol’ Craney-Crow waded de mo’ shallerer de water got, twel bimeby day wa’n’t nuff fer ter mo’ dan wet his foots. He say, ‘Hey! how come dis?’ But he ain’t got no answer, kaze de Swamp, wid all its bad dreams, wuz soun’ asleep. Dey wuz pools er water roun’ an’ about, an’ ol’ Craney-Crow went fum one ter de yuther, an’ fum yuther ter t’other, but ’tain’t do him no good. He went an’ stood by um, he did, but whiles he stannin’ dar, dey wa’n’t a riffle on top un um. Bimeby he got tired er walkin’ about, an’ he stood on one leg fer ter res’ hisse’f--dough ef anybody’ll tell me how you gwineter res’ yo’se’f wid stannin’ on one leg, I’ll set up an’ tell um tales fum now tell Chris’mus, kaze ef I git tired I kin stan’ on one leg an’ do my restin’ dat a-way.

“Well, den, dar wuz ol’ Craney-Crow, an’ dar wuz de Swamp. Ol’ Craney-Crow wuz wide-awake, but de Swamp wuz fast asleep an’ dreamin’ bad dreams like a wil’ hoss an’ waggin gwine down hill. But de Swamp wa’n’t no stiller dan ol’ Craney-Crow, stannin’ on one leg wid one eye lookin’ in de tops er de trees, an’ de yuther one lookin’ down in de grass. But in de Swamp er out’n de Swamp, time goes on an’ night draps down, an’ dat’s de way it done dis time. An’ when night drapped down, de Swamp kinder stretch itse’f an’ ’gun ter wake up. Ol’ Brer Mud Turkle opened his eyes an’ sneeze so hard dat he roll off de bank inter de water--kersplash--an’ he so close ter ol’ Craney-Crow dat he fetched a hop sideways, an’ come mighty nigh steppin’ on Mr. Billy Black Snake. Dis skeer’d ’im so dat he fetched an’er hop, an’ mighty nigh lit on de frog what he been huntin’ fer. De frog he say ‘hey!’ an’ dove in de mud-puddle.

“Atter dat, when ol’ Craney-Crow move ’bout, he lif’ his foots high, an’ he done like de ladies does when dey walk in a wet place. De whole caboodle wuz bran’ new ter ol’ Craney-Crow, an’ he look wid all his eyes, an’ lissen wid all his years. Dey wuz sump’n n’er gwine on, but he can’t make out what ’twuz. He ain’t never is been in no swamp befo’, mo’ speshually a Swamp what got life in it. He been useter ma’shy places, whar dey ain’t nothin’ but water an’ high grass, but dar whar he fin’ hisse’f atter de harrycane, dey wa’n’t no big sight er water, an’ what grass dey wuz, wa’n’t longer ’n yo’ finger. Stidder grass an’ water, dey wuz vines, an’ reeds, an’ trees wid moss on um dat made um look like Gran’suh Graybeard, an’ de vines an’ creepers look like dey wuz reachin’ out fer ’im.

“He walked about, he did, like de groun’ wuz hot, an’ when he walk he look like he wuz on stilts, his legs wuz so long. He hunt roun’ fer a place fer ter sleep, an’ whiles he wuz doin’ dat he tuck notice dat dey wuz sump’n n’er gwine on dat he ain’t never is see de like un. De jacky-ma-lantuns, dey lit up an’ went sailin’ roun’ des like dey wuz huntin’ fer ’im an’ de frogs, dey holler at ’im wid, ‘What you doin’ here? What you doin’ here?’ Mr. Coon rack by an’ laugh at ’im; Mr. Billy Gray Fox peep out’n de bushes an’ bark at ’im; Mr. Mink show ’im de green eyes, an’ Mr. Whipperwill scol’ ’im.

“He move ’bout, he did, an’ atter so long a time dey let ’im ’lone, an’ den when dey wa’n’t nobody ner nothin’ pesterin’ ’im, he ’gun ter look roun’ fer hisse’f. Peepin’ fust in one bush an’ den in an’er, he tuck notice dat all de birds what fly by day had done gone ter bed widout der heads. Look whar he mought, ol’ Craney-Crow ain’t see na’er bird but what had done tuck his head off ’fo’ he went ter bed. Look close ez he kin, he ain’t see no bird wid a head on. Dis make ’im wonder, an’ he ax hisse’f how come dis, an’ de onliest answer what he kin think un is dat gwine ter bed wid der heads on wuz done gone out er fashion in dat part er de country.

“Now, you kin say what you please ’bout de creeturs an’ der kin’--’bout de fowls dat fly, an’ de feathery creeturs what run on de groun’--you kin say what you please ’bout um, but dey got pride; dey don’t wanter be out’n de fashion. When it comes ter dat, deyer purty much like folks, an’ dat ’uz de way wid ol’ Craney-Crow; he don’t wanter be out er fashion. He ’shame’ fer ter go ter bed like he allers been doin’, kaze he ain’t want de yuthers fer ter laugh an’ say he ’uz fum de country deestrick, whar dey dunno much. Yit, study ez he mought, he dunner which a-way ter do fer ter git his head off. De yuthers had der heads un’ der wing. But he ain’t know dat.

“He look roun’, he did, fer ter see ef dey ain’t some un he kin ax ’bout it, an’ he ain’t hatter look long nudder, fer dar, settin’ right at ’im, wuz ol’ Brer Pop-Eye.”

“But, Uncle Remus, who was old Brother Pop-Eye?” inquired the little boy.

“Nobody in all de roun’ worl’, honey, but Brer Rabbit. He had one name fer de uplan’ an’ an’er name fer de bottom lan’--de swamps an’ de dreens. Wharsomever dar wuz any mischieviousness gwine on, right dar wuz Brer Rabbit ez big ez life an’ twice ez natchul. He wuz so close ter ol’ Craney-Crow dat he hatter jump when he seed ’im. Brer Pop-Eye say: ‘No needs fer ter be skeer’d, frien’ Craney-Crow. You may be mo’ dan sho dat I’m a well-wisher.’ Ol’ Craney-Crow ’low: ‘It do me good fer ter hear you sesso, Mr. Pop-Eye, an’ seein’ dat it’s you an’ not some un else, I don’t min’ axin’ you how all de flyin’ birds takes der heads off when dey go ter bed. It sho stumps me.’ Brer Pop-Eye say, ‘An’ no wonder, frien’ Craney-Crow, kaze youer stranger in deze parts. Dey ain’t nothin’ ter hide ’bout it. De skeeters is been so bad in dis Swamp sence de year one, an’ endurin’ er de time what’s gone by, dat dem what live here done got in de habits er takin’ off der heads an’ puttin’ um in a safe place.’

“De Craney-Crow ’low: ‘But how in de name er goodness does dey do it, Brer Pop-Eye?’ Mr. Pop-Eye laugh ter hisse’f ’way down in his gizzard. He say: ‘Dey don’t do it by deyse’f, kaze dat ’ud be axin’ too much. Oh, no! dey got some un hired fer ter do dat kin’ er work.’ ‘An’ whar kin I fin’ ’im, Brer Pop-Eye?’ sez ol’ Craney-Crow, sezee. Brer Pop-Eye ’low: ‘He’ll be roun’ terreckly; he allers hatter go roun’ fer ter see dat he ain’t miss none un um.’ Ol’ Craney-Crow sorter study, he did, an’ den he ’low: ‘How does dey git der heads back on, Brer Pop-Eye?’ Brer Pop-Eye shuck his head. He say: ‘I’d tell you ef I know’d, but I hatter stay up so much at night, dat ’long ’bout de time when dey gits der heads put on, I’m soun’ asleep an’ sno’in’ right along. Ef you sesso, I’ll hunt up de doctor what does de business, an’ I speck he’ll commerdate you--I kin prommus you dat much, sence you been so perlite.’ Ol’ Craney-Crow laugh an’ say: ‘I done fin’ out in my time dat dey don’t nothin’ pay like perliteness, speshually ef she’s ginnywine.’

“Wid dat, Brer Pop-Eye put out, he did, fer ter fin’ Brer Wolf. Knowin’ purty well whar he wuz, ’twant long ’fo’ here dey come gallopin’ back. Brer Pop-Eye say: ‘Mr. Craney-Crow, dis is Mr. Dock Wolf; Mr. Dock Wolf, dis is Mr. Craney-Crow; glad fer ter make you ’quainted, gents.’” At this point, Uncle Remus paused and glanced at the little boy, who was listening to the story with almost breathless interest. “You ain’t got yo’ hankcher wid you, is you?” the old man inquired gently.

“Mother always makes me carry a handkerchief,” the child replied, “and it makes the pocket of my jacket stick out. Why did you ask, Uncle Remus?”

“Kaze we er comin’ ter de place whar you’ll need it,” said the old man. “You better take it out an’ hol’ it in yo’ han’. Ef you got any tears inside er you, dey’ll come ter de top now.”

The child took out his handkerchief, and held it in his hand obediently. “Well, suh,” Uncle Remus went on, “atter dey been made ’quainted, ol’ Craney-Crow tell Dock Wolf ’bout his troubles, an’ how he wanter do like de rest er de flyin’ creeturs, an’ Dock Wolf rub his chin an’ put his thumb in his wescut pocket fer all de worl’ like a sho nuff doctor. He say ter ol’ Craney-Crow dat he ain’t so mighty certain an’ sho dat he kin he’p ’im much. He say dat in all his born days he ain’t never see no flyin’ creetur wid sech a long neck, an’ dat he’ll hatter be mighty intickler how he fool wid it. He went close, he did, an’ feel un it an’ fumble wid it, an’ all de time his mouf wuz waterin’ des like yone do when you see a piece er lemon pie.

“He say: ‘You’ll hatter hol’ yo’ head lower, Mr. Craney-Crow,’ an’ wid dat he snap down on it, an’ dat wuz de last er dat Craney-Crow. He ain’t never see his home no mo’, an’ mo’ dan dat, ol’ Dock Wolf slung ’im ’cross his back an’ cantered off home. An’ dat’s de reason dat de Craney-Crows all fly so fas’ when dey come thoo dis part er de country.”

“But why did you ask me to take out my handkerchief, Uncle Remus?”

“Kaze I wanter be on de safe side,” remarked the old man with much solemnity. “Ef you got a hankcher when you cry, you kin wipe off de weeps, an’ you kin hide de puckers in yo’ face.”

VIII

BROTHER FOX FOLLOWS THE FASHION

The little boy was not sure whether Uncle Remus had finished the story; it would have been hard for a grown man to keep up with the whimsical notions of the venerable old darkey, and surely you couldn’t expect a little bit of a boy, who had had no experience to speak of, to do as well. The little lad waited a while, and, seeing that Uncle Remus showed no sign of resuming the narrative, he spoke up. “I didn’t see anything to cry about,” he remarked.

“Well, some folks cries, an’ yuther folks laughs. Dey got der reasons, too. Now, I dunno dat ol’ Brer Rabbit wuz hard-hearted er col’-blooded any mo’ dan de common run er de creeturs, but it look like he kin see mo’ ter tickle ’im dan ye yuthers, an’ he wuz constant a-laughin’. Mos’ er de time he’d laugh in his innerds, but den ag’in, when sump’n tetch his funny-bone, he’d open up wid a big ha-ha-ha dat ’ud make de yuther creeturs take ter de bushes.

“An’ dat ’uz de way he done when ol’ Craney-Crow had his head tooken off fer ter be in de fashion. He laugh an’ laugh twel it hurt ’im ter laugh, an’ den he laugh some mo’ fer good medjur. He laughed plum twel mornin’, an’ den he laugh whiles he wuz rackin’ on todes home. He’d lope a little ways, an’ den he’d set down by de side er de road an’ laugh some mo’. Whiles he gwine on dis a-way, he come ter de place whar Brer Fox live at, an’ den it look like he can’t git no furder. Ef a leaf shook on de tree, it ’ud put ’im in min’ er de hoppin’ an’ jumpin’ an’ scufflin’ dat ol’ Craney-Crow done when Dock Wolf tuck an’ tuck off his head fer ’im.

“Ez luck would have it, Brer Fox wuz out in his pea-patch fer ter see how his crap wuz gittin’ on, an’ huntin’ roun’ fer ter see ef dey wuz any stray tracks whar somebody had bin atter his truck. Whiles he wuz lookin’ roun’ he hear some un laughin’ fit ter kill, an’ he looked over de fence fer ter see who ’tis. Dar wuz Brer Rabbit des a-rollin’ in de grass an’ laughin’ hard ez he kin. Brer Fox ’low: ‘Heyo, Brer Rabbit! what de name er goodness de matter wid you?’ Brer Rabbit, in de middle er his laughin’ can’t do nothin’ but shake his head an’ kick in de grass.

“’Bout dat time, ol’ Miss Fox stuck ’er head out’n de winder fer ter see what gwine on. She say, ‘Sandy, what all dat fuss out dar? Ain’t you know dat de baby’s des gone ter sleep?’ Brer Fox, he say, ‘’Tain’t nobody in de roun’ worl’ but Brer Rabbit, an’ ef I ain’t mighty much mistooken, he done gone an’ got a case er de highstericks.’ Ol’ Miss Fox say, ‘I don’t keer what he got, I wish he’d go on ’way fum dar, er hush up his racket. He’ll wake de chillun, an’ dem what ain’t ’sleep he’ll skeer de wits out’n ’um.’

“Wid dat, ol’ Brer Rabbit cotch his breff, an’ pass de time er day wid Brer Fox an’ his ol’ ’oman. Den he say, ‘You see me an’ you hear me, Brer Fox; well, des ez you see me now, dat de way I been gwine on all night long. I speck maybe it ain’t right fer ter laugh at dem what ain’t got de sense dey oughter been born wid, but I can’t he’p it fer ter save my life; I try, but de mo’ what I try de wusser I gits. I oughter be at home right now, an’ I would be ef it hadn’t ’a’ been fer sump’n I seed las’ night,’ an’ den he went ter laughin’ ag’in. Ol’ Miss Fox, she fix de bonnet on her head, an’ den she say, ‘What you see, Brer Rabbit? It mus’ be mighty funny; tell us ’bout it, an’ maybe we’ll laugh wid you.’ Brer Rabbit ’low, ‘I don’t min’ tellin’ you, ma’am, ef I kin keep fum laughin’, but ef I hatter stop fer ter ketch my breff, I know mighty well dat you’ll skuzen me.’ Ol’ Miss Fox say, ‘Dat we will, Brer Rabbit.’

“Wid dat Brer Rabbit up an’ tol’ all ’bout ol’ Craney-Crow comin’ in de Swamp, an’ not knowin’ how ter go ter bed. He say dat de funny part un it wuz dat ol’ Craney-Crow ain’t know dat when anybody went ter bed dey oughter take der head off, an’ den he start ter laughin’ ag’in. Ol’ Miss Fox look at her ol’ man an’ he look at her; dey dunner what ter say er how ter say it.