wid um. It done got so now dat folks don’t b’lieve nothin’ but what dey
kin see, an’ mo’ dan half un um won’t b’lieve what dey see less ’n dey
kin feel un it too. But dat ain’t de way wid dem what’s ol’ ’nough fer
ter know. Ef I’d ’a’ tol’ you ’bout de fishes swimmin’ ag’in fallin’
water, you wouldn’t ’a’ b’lieved me, would you? No, you wouldn’t--an’
yit, dar ’twuz right ’fo’ yo’ face an’ eyes. Dar dey wuz a-skeetin’ fum
de bottom er de dam right up in de mill-pon’, an’ you settin’ dar lookin’
at um. S’posin’ you wuz ter say dat you won’t b’lieve um less’n you kin
feel um; does you speck de fish gwineter hang dar in de fallin’ water an’
wait twel you kin wade ’cross de slipp’y rocks an’ put yo’ han’ on um?
Did you look right close fer ter see ef de bull-frog what you seed is got
a tail er no?”
The little boy admitted that he had not. He knew as well as anybody that
no kind of a frog has a tail, unless it is the Texas frog, which is only
a horned lizard, for he saw one once in Atlanta, and it was nothing but a
rusty-back lizard with a horn on his head.
“I ain’t ’sputin’ what you say, honey,” said Uncle Remus, “but de creetur
what you seed mought ’a’ been a frog an’ you not know it. One thing I
does know is dat in times gone by de bull-frog had a tail, kaze I hear de
ol’ folks sesso, an’ mo’ dan dat, dey know’d des how he los’ it--de whar,
an’ de when, an’ de which-away. Fer all I know it wuz right here at dish
yer identual mill-pon’. I ain’t gwine inter court an’ make no affledave
on it, but ef anybody wuz ter walk up an’ p’int der finger at me, an’ say
dat dis is de place whar ol’ Brer Bull-Frog lose his tail, I’d up an’
’low, ‘Yasser, it mus’ be de place, kaze it look might’ly like de place
what I been hear tell ’bout.’ An’ den I’d shet my eyes an’ see ef I can’t
git it straight in my dream.”
Uncle Remus paused, and pretended to be counting a handful of red grains
of corn that he had found somewhere in the mill. Seeing that he showed no
disposition to tell how Brother Bull-Frog had lost his tail, the little
boy reminded him of it. But the old man laughed. “Ef Brer Bull-Frog ain’t
never had no tail,” he said, “how de name er goodness he gwineter lose
um? Ef he yever is had a tail, why den dat’s a gray hoss uv an’er color.
Dey’s a tale ’bout ’im havin’ a tail an’ losin’ it, but how kin dey be a
tale when dey ain’t no tail?”
Well, the little boy didn’t know at all, and he looked so disconsolate
and so confused that the old negro relented. “Now, den,” he remarked,
“ef ol’ Brer Bull-Frog had a tail an’ he ain’t got none now, dey must
’a’ been sump’n happen. In dem times--de times what all deze tales tells
you ’bout--Brer Bull-Frog stayed in an’ aroun’ still water des like he
do now. De bad col’ dat he had in dem days, he’s got it yit--de same
pop-eyes, an’ de same bal’ head. Den, ez now, dey wa’n’t a bunch er ha’r
on it dat you could pull out wid a pa’r er tweezers. Ez he bellers now,
des dat a-way he bellered den, mo’ speshually at night. An’ talk ’bout
settin’ up late--why, ol’ Brer Bull-Frog could beat dem what fust got in
de habits er settin’ up late.
[Illustration: “_De yuther creeturs can’t git no sleep_” ]
“Dey’s one thing dat you’ll hatter gi’ ’im credit fer, an’ dat wuz
keepin’ his face an’ han’s clean, an’ in takin’ keer er his cloze.
Nobody, not even his mammy, had ter patch his britches er tack buttons on
his coat. See ’im whar you may an’ when you mought, he wuz allers lookin’
spick an’ span des like he done come right out’n a ban’-box. You know
what de riddle say ’bout ’im; when he stan’ up he sets down, an’ when he
walks he hops. He’d ’a’ been mighty well thunk un, ef it hadn’t but ’a’
been fer his habits. He holler so much at night dat de yuther creeturs
can’t git no sleep. He’d holler an’ holler, an’ ’bout de time you think
he bleeze ter be ’shame’ er hollerin’ so much, he’d up an’ holler ag’in.
It got so dat de creeturs hatter go ’way off some’rs ef dey wanter git
any sleep, an’ it seem like dey can’t git so fur off but what Brer
Bull-Frog would wake um up time dey git ter dozin’ good.
[Illustration: “_He’d set an’ lissen, … an’ den he’d laugh fit ter kill_”]
“He’d raise up an’ ’low, ‘_Here I is! Here I is! Wharbouts is you?
Wharbouts is you? Come along! Come along!_’ It ’uz des dat a-way de whole
blessed night, an’ de yuther creeturs, dey say dat it sholy was a shame
dat anybody would set right flat-footed an’ ruin der good name. Look like
he pestered ev’ybody but ol’ Brer Rabbit, an’ de reason dat he liked it
wuz kaze it worried de yuther creeturs. He’d set an’ lissen, ol’ Brer
Rabbit would, an’ den he’d laugh fit ter kill kaze he ain’t a-keerin’
whedder er no he git any sleep er not. Ef dey’s anybody what kin set up
twel de las’ day in de mornin’ an’ not git red-eyed an’ heavy-headed,
it’s ol’ Brer Rabbit. When he wanter sleep, he’d des shet one eye an’
sleep, an’ when he wanter stay ’wake, he’d des open bofe eyes, an’ dar he
wuz wid all his foots under ’im, an’ a-chawin’ his terbacker same ez ef
dey wa’n’t no Brer Bull-Frog in de whole Nunited State er Georgy.
[Illustration: “_His way led ’im down todes de mill-pon’_”]
“It went on dis way fer I dunner how long--ol’ Brer Bull-Frog
a-bellerin’ all night long an’ keepin’ de yuther creeturs ’wake, an’ Brer
Rabbit a-laughin’. But, bimeby, de time come when Brer Rabbit hatter lay
in some mo’ calamus root, ag’in de time when ’twould be too col’ fer ter
dig it, an’ when he went fer ter hunt fer it, his way led ’im down todes
de mill-pon’ whar Brer Bull-Frog live at. Dey wuz calamus root a-plenty
down dar, an’ Brer Rabbit, atter lookin’ de groun’ over, promise hisse’f
dat he’d fetch a basket de nex’ time he come, an’ make one trip do fer
two. He ain’t been down dar long ’fo’ he had a good chance fer ter hear
Brer Bull-Frog at close range. He hear him, he did, an’ he shake his head
an’ say dat a mighty little bit er dat music would go a long ways, kaze
dey ain’t nobody what kin stan’ flat-footed an’ say dat Brer Bull-Frog is
a better singer dan de mockin’-bird.
[Illustration: “_He lissen ag’in, an’ hear Brer Bull-Frog mumblin’ an
grumblin’_”]
“Well, whiles Brer Rabbit wuz pirootin’ roun’ fer ter see what mought be
seed, he git de idee dat he kin hear thunder way off yander. He lissen
ag’in, an’ he hear Brer Bull-Frog mumblin’ an’ grumblin’ ter hisse’f,
an’ he must ’a’ had a mighty bad col’, kaze his talk soun’ des like a
bummil-eye bee been kotch in a sugar-barrel an’ can’t git out. An’ dat
creetur must ’a’ know’d dat Brer Rabbit wuz down in dem neighborhoods,
kaze, atter while, he ’gun to talk louder, an’ yit mo’ louder. He say,
‘_Whar you gwine? Whar you gwine?_’ an’ den, ‘_Don’t go too fur--don’t go
too fur!_’ an’, atter so long a time, ‘_Come back--come back! Come back
soon!_’ Brer Rabbit, he sot dar, he did, an’ work his nose an’ wiggle his
mouf, an’ wait fer ter see what gwineter happen nex’.
“Whiles Brer Rabbit settin’ dar, Brer Bull-Frog fall ter mumblin’ ag’in
an’ it look like he ’bout ter drap off ter sleep, but bimeby he talk
louder, ‘_Be my frien’--be my frien’! Oh, be my frien’!_’ Brer Rabbit
wunk one eye an’ smole a smile, kaze he done hear a heap er talk like
dat. He wipe his face an’ eyes wid his pocket-hankcher, an’ sot so still
dat you’d ’a’ thunk he wa’n’t nothin’ but a chunk er wood. But Brer
Bull-Frog, he know’d how ter stay still hisse’f, an’ he ain’t so much ez
bubble a bubble. But atter whiles, when Brer Rabbit can’t stay still no
mo’, he got up fum whar he wuz settin’ at an’ mosied out by de mill-race
whar de grass is fresh an’ de trees is green.
“Brer Bull-Frog holla, ‘_Jug-er-rum--jug-er-rum! Wade in here--I’ll gi’
you some!_’ Now dey ain’t nothin’ dat ol’ Brer Rabbit like better dan a
little bit er dram fer de stomach-ache, an’ his mouf ’gun ter water right
den an’ dar. He went a little closer ter de mill-pon’, an’ Brer Bull-Frog
keep on a-talkin’ ’bout de jug er rum, an’ what he gwine do ef Brer
Rabbit will wade in dar. He look at de water, an’ it look mighty col’; he
look ag’in an’ it look mighty deep. It say, ‘Lap-lap!’ an’ it look like
it’s a-creepin’ higher. Brer Rabbit drawed back wid a shiver, an’ he wish
mighty much dat he’d ’a’ fotch his overcoat.
[Illustration: “_In he went--kerchug!_”]
“Brer Bull-Frog say, ‘_Knee deep--knee deep! Wade in--wade in!_’ an’ he
make de water bubble des like he takin’ a dram. Den an’ dar, sump’n n’er
happen, an’ how it come ter happen Brer Rabbit never kin tell; but he
peeped in de pon’ fer ter see ef he kin ketch a glimp er de jug, an’ in
he went--_kerchug_! He ain’t never know whedder he fall in, er slip in,
er ef he was pushed in, but dar he wuz! He come mighty nigh not gittin
out; but he scramble an’ he scuffle twel he git back ter de bank whar he
kin clim’ out, an’ he stood dar, he did, an’ kinder shuck hisse’f, kaze
he mighty glad fer ter fin’ dat he’s in de worl’ once mo’. He know’d dat
a leetle mo’ an’ he’d ’a’ been gone fer good, kaze when he drapped in, er
jumped in, er fell in, he wuz over his head an’ years, an’ he hatter do a
sight er kickin’ an’ scufflin’ an’ swallerin’ water ’fo’ he kin git whar
he kin grab de grass on de bank.
[Illustration: “_He wonder how in de worl’ dat plain water kin be so
watery_”]
“He sneeze an’ snoze, an’ wheeze an’ whoze, twel it look like he’d drown
right whar he wuz stan’in’ any way you kin fix it. He say ter hisse’f dat
he ain’t never gwineter git de tas’e er river water outer his mouf an’
nose, an’ he wonder how in de worl’ dat plain water kin be so watery. Ol’
Brer Bull-Frog, he laugh like a bull in de pastur’, an’ Brer Rabbit gi’ a
sidelong look dat oughter tol’ ’im ez much ez a map kin tell one er deze
yer school scholars. Brer Rabbit look at ’im, but he ain’t say narry a
word. He des shuck hisse’f once mo’, an’ put out fer home whar he kin set
in front er de fire an’ git dry.
“Atter dat day, Brer Rabbit riz mighty soon an’ went ter bed late, an’
he watch Brer Bull-Frog so close dat dey wa’n’t nothin’ he kin do but
what Brer Rabbit know ’bout it time it ’uz done; an’ one thing he know’d
better dan all--he know’d dat when de winter time come Brer Bull-Frog
would have ter pack up his duds an’ move over in de bog whar de water
don’t git friz up. Dat much he know’d, an’ when dat time come, he laid
off fer ter make Brer Bull-Frog’s journey, short ez it wuz, ez full er
hap’nin’s ez de day when de ol’ cow went dry. He tuck an’ move his bed
an’ board ter de big holler poplar, not fur fum de mill-pon’, an’ dar he
stayed an’ keep one eye on Brer Bull-Frog bofe night an’ day. He ain’t
lose no flesh whiles he waitin’, kaze he ain’t one er deze yer kin’ what
mopes an’ gits sollumcolly; he wuz all de time betwixt a grin an’ a
giggle.
“He know’d mighty well--none better--dat time goes by turns in deze low
groun’s, an’ he wait fer de day when Brer Bull-Frog gwineter move his
belongin’s fum pon’ ter bog. An’ bimeby dat time come, an’ when it come,
Brer Bull-Frog is done fergit off’n his mind all ’bout Brer Rabbit an’
his splashification. He rig hisse’f out in his Sunday best, an’ he look
kerscrumptious ter dem what like dat kinder doin’s. He had on a little
sojer hat wid green an’ white speckles all over it, an’ a long green
coat, an’ satin britches, an’ a white silk wescut, an’ shoes wid silver
buckles. Mo’ dan dat, he had a green umbrell, fer ter keep fum havin’
freckles, an’ his long spotted tail wuz done up in de umbrell kivver so
dat it won’t drag on de groun’.”
Uncle Remus paused to see what the little boy would say to this last
statement, but the child’s training prevented the asking of many
questions, and so he only laughed at the idea of a frog with a tail, and
the tail done up in the cover of a green umbrella. The laughter of the
youngster was hearty enough to satisfy the old negro, and he went on with
the story.
“Whiles all dis gwine on, honey, you better b’lieve dat Brer Rabbit
wa’n’t so mighty fur fum dar. When Brer Bull-Frog come out an’ start
fer ter promenade ter de bog, Brer Rabbit show hisse’f an’ make like he
skeered. He broke an’ run, an’ den he stop fer ter see what ’tis--an’ den
he run a leetle ways an’ stop ag’in, an’ he keep on dodgin’ an’ runnin’
twel he fool Brer Bull-Frog inter b’lievin’ dat he wuz skeer’d mighty
nigh ter death.
“You know how folks does when dey git de idee dat somebody’s ’fear’d un
um--ef you don’t you’ll fin’ out long ’fo’ yo’ whiskers gits ter hangin’
to yo’ knees. When folks take up dis idee, dey gits biggity, an’ dey
ain’t no stayin’ in de same country wid um.
[Illustration: “_He shuck his umbrell’ like he mad_”]
“Well, Brer Bull-Frog, he git de idee dat Brer Rabbit wuz ’fear’d un ’im,
an’ he shuck his umbrell like he mad, an’ he beller: ‘Whar my gun?’ Brer
Rabbit flung up bofe han’s like he wuz skeer’d er gittin’ a load er shot
in his vitals, an’ den he broke an’ run ez hard ez he kin. Brer Bull-Frog
holler out, ‘Come yer, you vilyun, an’ le’ me gi’ you de frailin’ what
I done promise you!’ but ol’ Brer Rabbit, he keep on a-gwine. Brer
Bull-Frog went hoppin’ atter, but he ain’t make much headway, kaze all de
time he wuz hoppin’ he wuz tryin’ to strut.
“’Twuz e’en about ez much ez Brer Rabbit kin do fer ter keep fum
laughin’, but he led Brer Bull-Frog ter de holler poplar, whar he had
his hatchet hid. Ez he went in, he ’low, ‘You can’t git me!’ He went in,
he did, an’ out he popped on t’er side. By dat time Brer Bull-Frog wuz
mighty certain an’ sho dat Brer Rabbit wuz skeer’d ez he kin be, an’
inter de holler he went, widout so much ez takin’ de trouble ter shet up
his umbrell. When he got in de holler, in co’se he ain’t see hide ner
ha’r er Brer Rabbit, an’ he beller out, ‘Whar is you? You may hide, but
I’ll fin’ you, an’ when I does--when I does!’ He ain’t say all he wanter
say, kaze by dat time Brer Rabbit wuz lammin’ on de tree wid his hatchet.
He hit it some mighty heavy whacks, an’ Brer Bull-Frog git de idee dat
somebody wuz cuttin’ it down.
[Illustration: “_Brer Rabbit run roun’ ter whar he wuz an’ chop his tail
off_”]
“Dis kinder skeer’d ’im, kaze he know dat ef de tree fell while he in de
holler, it’d be all-night Isom wid him. But when he make a move fer ter
turn roun’ in dar fer ter come out, Brer Rabbit run roun’ ter whar he
wuz, an’ chop his tail off right smick-smack-smoove.”
The veteran story-teller paused, and looked at the clouds that were
gathering in the sky. “’Twouldn’t ’stonish me none,” he remarked dryly,
“ef we wuz ter have some fallin’ wedder.”
“But, Uncle Remus, what happened when Brother Rabbit cut off the
Bull-Frog’s tail?” inquired the little boy.
The old man sighed heavily, and looked around, as if he were hunting for
some way of escape. “Why, honey, when de Frog tail wuz cut off, it stayed
off, but dey tells me dat it kep’ on a wigglin’ plum twel de sun went
down. Dis much I does know, dat sence dat day, none er de Frog fambly has
been troubled wid tails. Ef you don’t believe me you kin ketch um an’
see.”
XIII
WHY MR. DOG IS TAME
There were quite a number of dogs on the plantation--foxhounds, harriers,
a sheep dog, and two black-and-tan hounds that had been trained to tree
coons and ’possums. In these, the little boy took an abiding interest,
and he soon came to know the name and history of each individual dog.
There was Jonah, son of Hodo, leader of the foxhounds, Jewel, leader of
the harriers, and Walter, the sheep dog, who drove up the cows and hogs
every evening. Indeed, it was not long before the little boy knew as much
about the dogs as Uncle Remus did.
He imagined he knew more, for one day he informed the old man that once
upon a time all dogs were wild, and roamed about the woods and fields
just as the wild animals do now.
“You see me settin’ here,” Uncle Remus remarked; “well, suh, ol’ ez I
is, I’d like mighty well ter fin’ out how you come ter know ’bout deze
happenin’s way back yander.”
The little boy made no secret of the matter; he answered with pride that
his mother had been reading to him out of a great big book with pictures
in it. Uncle Remus stretched his arms above his head, and opened wide his
eyes. Astonishment took possession of his countenance. The child laughed
with delight when he saw the amazement of Uncle Remus. “Yes,” he went on,
“mother read about all the wild animals. The book said that when the dogs
were wild they used to go in droves, just as the wolves do now.”
“Yasser, dat’s so!” exclaimed Uncle Remus with admiration, “an’ ef
you keep on like you gwine, ’twon’t be long ’fo’ you’ll know lot’s
mo’ ’bout de creeturs dan what I does--lot’s mo’.” Then he became
confidential--“Wuz dey anything in de big book, honey, ’bout de time dat
de Dog start in fer ter live wid Mr. Man?” The little boy shook his head.
If there was anything about it in the big book from which his mother had
been reading, she had kept it to herself.
“Well, I’m mighty glad dey ain’t nothin’ in dar ’bout it, kaze ef dey had
’a’ been, I’d ’a’ been bleeze ter gi’ up my job, kaze when dey gits ter
puttin’ tales in a book, dat’s a sign.”
“A sign of what, Uncle Remus?”
“Des a sign, honey--a plain sign. Ef you dunner what a sign is, I’ll
never tell you.”
“When did the Dog begin to live with Mr. Man?” the little boy inquired.
“Once he was wild, and now he is tame. How did he become tame?”
“Ah-yi! den you got de idee dat ol’ man Remus know sump’n n’er what ain’t
down in de books?”
“Why, you asked me if there was anything in the big book that told about
the time when the Dog went to live with Mr. Man,” the little boy replied.
“Dat’s what I done,” exclaimed Uncle Remus with a laugh. “An’ I done it
kaze I laid off ter tel you ’bout it one er deze odd-come-shorts when de
moon ridin’ high, an’ de win’ playin’ a chune in de big pine.”
“Why not tell it now?” the little boy asked.
“Le’ me see, is I well er is I sick? Is I full er is I hongry? Ef I done
fergot what I had fer dinner day ’fo’ yistiddy, den ’tain’t no use fer
ter try ter tell a tale ’bout ol’ times. Wuz it cake? No, ’twant cake.
Wuz it chicken-pie? No, ’twant chicken-pie. What, den? Ah-h-h! Now I
knows: ’Twuz tater custard, an’ it seem like I kin tas’e it yit. Yasser!
Day ’fo’ yistiddy wuz so long ago dat it look like a dream.”
“It wasn’t any dream,” the little boy declared. “Mother wouldn’t let me
have any at the house, and when grandmother sent your dinner, she put two
pieces of potato custard on a plate, and you said that one of them was
for me.”
“An’ you e’t it,” Uncle Remus declared; “you e’t it, an’ you liked it so
well dat you sot yo’ eye on my piece, an’ ef I hadn’t ’a’ grabbed it, I
boun’ I wouldn’t ’a’ had no tater custard.”
The little boy laughed and blushed. “How did you know I wanted the other
piece?” he asked.
“I know it by my nose an’ my two big toes,” Uncle Remus replied. “Put a
boy in smellin’ distance uv a piece er tater custard, an’ it seem like de
custard will fly up an’ hit him in de mouf, no matter how much he try ter
dodge.”
Uncle Remus paused and pulled a raveling from his shirt-sleeve, looking
at the little boy meanwhile.
“I know very well you haven’t forgotten the story,” remarked the child,
“for grandmother says you never forgot anything, especially the old-time
tales.”
“Well, suh, I speck she knows. She been knowin’ me ev’ry sence she wuz a
baby gal, an’ mo’ dan dat, she know right p’int blank what I’m a-thinkin’
’bout when she kin git her eye on me.”
“And she says she never caught you tellin’ a fib.”
“Is she say dat?” Uncle Remus inquired with a broad grin. “Ef she did,
I’m lots sharper dan I looks ter be, kaze many and many’s de time when I
been skeer’d white, thinkin’ she done cotch me. Tooby sho’, tooby sho’!”
“But what about the Dog, Uncle Remus?”
“What dog, honey? Oh, you’ll hatter scuzen me--I’m lots older dan what I
looks ter be. You mean de Dog what tuck up at Mr. Man’s house. Well, ol’
Brer Dog wuz e’en about like he is deze days, scratchin’ fer fleas, an’
growlin’ over his vittles stidder sayin’ grace, an’ berryin’ de bones
when he had one too many. He wuz des like he is now, ’ceppin’ dat he wuz
wil’. He galloped wid Brer Fox, an’ loped wid Brer Wolf, an’ cantered wid
Brer Coon. He went all de gaits, an’ he had dez ez good a time ez any un
um, an’ des ez bad a time.
“Now, one day, some’rs ’twix’ Monday mornin’ an’ Saddy night, he wuz
settin’ in de shade scratchin’ hisse’f, an’ he wuz tooken wid a spell er
thinkin’. He’d des come thoo a mighty hard winter wid de yuther creeturs,
an’ he up an’ say ter hisse’f dat ef he had ter do like dat one mo’
season, it’d be de en’ er him an’ his fambly. You could count his ribs,
an’ his hip-bones stuck out like de horns on a hat-rack.
“Whiles he wuz settin’ dar, scratchin’ an’ studyin’, an’ studyin’ an’
scratchin’, who should come meanderin’ down de big road but ol’ Brer
Wolf; an’ it ’uz ‘Hello, Brer Dog! you look like you ain’t seed de inside
uv a smokehouse fer quite a whet. I ain’t sayin’ dat I got much fer ter
brag on, kaze I ain’t in no better fix dan what you is. De colder it
gits, de skacer de vittles grows.’ An’ den he ax Brer Dog whar he gwine
an’ how soon he gwineter git dar. Brer Dog make answer dat it don’t make
no diffunce whar he go ef he don’t fin’ dinner ready.
“Brer Wolf ’low dat de way ter git dinner is ter make a fier, kaze
’tain’t no use fer ter try ter eat ef dey don’t do dat. Ef dey don’t git
nothin’ fer ter cook, dey’ll have a place whar dey kin keep warm. Brer
Dog say he see whar Brer Wolf is dead right, but whar dey gwine git a
fier? Brer Wolf say de quickest way is ter borry a chunk fum Mr. Man er
his ol’ ’oman. But when it come ter sayin’ who gwine atter it, dey bofe
kinder hung back, kaze dey know’d dat Mr. Man had a walkin’-cane what he
kin p’int at anybody an’ snap a cap on it an’ blow de light right out.
“But bimeby, Brer Dog say’ll go atter de chunk er fier, an’ he ain’t no
mo’ dan say dat, ’fo’ off he put, an’ he travel so peart, dat ’twant long
’fo’ he come ter Mr. Man’s house. When he got ter de gate he sot down an’
done some mo’ studyin’, an’ ef de gate had ’a’ been shot, he’d ’a’ turned
right roun’ an’ went back like he come; but some er de chillun had been
playin’ out in de yard, an’ dey lef’ de gate open, an so dar ’twuz. Study
ez he mought, he can’t fin’ no skuce fer gwine back widout de chunk er
fier. An’ in he went.
“Well, talk ’bout folks bein’ ’umble; you ain’t seed no
’umble-come-tumble twel you see Brer Dog when he went in dat gate.
He ain’t take time fer ter look roun’, he so skeer’d. He hear hogs
a-gruntin’ an’ pigs a-squealin’, he hear hens a-cacklin’ an’ roosters
crowin’, but he ain’t turn his head. He had sense ’nuff not ter go in de
house by de front way. He went roun’ de back way whar de kitchen wuz, an’
when he got dar he ’fraid ter go any furder. He went ter de do’, he did,
an’ he ’fraid ter knock. He hear chillun laughin’ an’ playin’ in dar, an’
fer de fust time in all his born days, he ’gun ter feel lonesome.
“Bimeby, some un open de do’ an’ den shot it right quick. But Brer Dog
ain’t see nobody; he ’uz too ’umble-come-tumble fer dat. He wuz lookin’
at de groun’, an’ wonderin’ what ’uz gwineter happen nex’. It must ’a’
been one er de chillun what open de do’, kaze ’twant long ’fo’ here come
Mr. Man wid de walkin’-cane what had fier in it. He come ter de do’, he
did, an’ he say, ‘What you want here?’ Brer Dog wuz too skeer’d fer ter
talk; all he kin do is ter des wag his tail. Mr. Man, he ’low, ‘You in de
wrong house, an’ you better go on whar you got some business.’
“Brer Dog, he crouch down close ter de groun’, an’ wag his tail. Mr.
Man, he look at ’im, an’ he ain’t know whedder fer ter turn loose his
gun er not, but his ol’ ’oman, she hear him talkin’, an’ she come ter de
do’, an’ see Brer Dog crouchin’ dar, ’umbler dan de’ ’umblest, an’ she
say, ‘Po’ feller! you ain’t gwine ter hurt nobody, is you?’ an’ Brer Dog
’low, ‘No, ma’am, I ain’t; I des come fer ter borry a chunk er fier.’
An’ she say, ‘What in de name er goodness does you want wid fier? Is you
gwine ter burn us out’n house an’ home?’ Brer Dog ’low, ‘No, ma’am! dat I
ain’t; I des wanter git warm.’ Den de ’oman say, ‘I clean fergot ’bout de
col’ wedder--come in de kitchen here an’ warm yo’se’f much ez you wanter.’
“Dat wuz mighty good news fer Brer Dog, an’ in he went. Dey wuz a nice
big fier on de h’ath, an’ de chillun wuz settin’ all roun’ eatin’ der
dinner. Dey make room fer Brer Dog, an’ down he sot in a warm cornder,
an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he wuz feelin’ right splimmy-splammy. But he wuz
mighty hongry. He sot dar, he did, an’ watch de chillun’ eatin’ der
ashcake an’ buttermilk, an’ his eyeballs ’ud foller eve’y mouffle dey
e’t. De ’oman, she notice dis, an’ she went ter de cubberd an’ got a
piece er warm ashcake, an’ put it down on de h’ath.