'"DE animils en de creeturs," said Uncle Remus, shaking his
coffee around in the bottom of his tin-cup, in order to gather up
all the sugar, 'dey kep' on gittin' mo' en mo' familious wid
wunner nudder, twel bimeby, 'twan't long 'fo' Brer Rabbit, en
Brer Fox, en Brer Possum got ter sorter bunchin' der perwishuns
tergedder in de same shanty. Atter w'ile de roof sorter 'gun ter
leak, en one day Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum,
'semble fer ter see ef dey can't kinder patch her up. Dey had a
big day's work in front un um, en dey fotch der dinner wid um.
Dey lump de vittles up in one pile, en de butter w'at Brer Fox
brung, dey goes en puts in de spring-'ouse fer ter keep cool, en
den dey went ter wuk, en 'twan't long 'fo' Brer Rabbit's stummuck
'gun ter sorter growl en pester 'im. Dat butter er Brer Fox sot
heavy on his mine, en his mouf water eve'y time he 'member 'bout
it. Present'y he say ter hisse'f dat he bleedzd ter have a nip at
dat butter, en den he lay his plans, he did. Fus' news you know,
w'ile dey wuz all wukkin' long, Brer Rabbit raise his head quick
en fling his years forerd en holler out:
"'Here I is. W'at you want wid me?' en off he put like sump'n wuz
atter 'im.
"He sallied 'roun', ole Brer Rabbit did, en atter he make sho dat
nobody ain't foller'n un 'im, inter de spring-'ouse he bounces,
en dar he stays twel he git a bait er butter. Den he santer on
back en go to wuk.
"'Whar you bin?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.
"'I hear my chilluns callin' me,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en I
hatter go see w'at dey want. My ole 'oman done gone en tuck
mighty sick,' sezee.
"Dey wuk on twel bimeby de butter tas'e so good dat ole Brer
Rabbit want some mo'. Den he raise up his head, he did, en holler
out:
"'Heyo! Hol' on! I'm a comin'!' en off he put.
"Dis time he stay right smart w'ile, en w'en he git back Brer Fox
ax him whar he bin.
"'I been ter see my ole 'oman, en she's a sinkin',' sezee.
"Dreckly Brer Rabbit hear um callin' 'im ag'in en off he goes, en
dis time, bless yo' soul, he gits de butter out so clean dat he
kin see hisse'f in de bottom er de bucket. He scrape it clean en
lick it dry, en den he go back ter wuk lookin' mo' samer dan a
nigger w'at de patter-rollers bin had holt un.
"'How's yo' ole 'oman dis time?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.
"'I'm oblije ter you, Brer Fox,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'but I'm
fear'd she's done gone by now,' en dat sorter make Brer Fox en
Brer Possum feel in mo'nin' wid Brer Rabbit.
"Bimeby, w'en dinner-time come, dey all got out der vittles, but
Brer Rabbit keep on lookin' lonesome, en Brer Fox en Brer Possum
dey sorter rustle roun' fer ter see ef dey can't make Brer Rabbit
feel sorter splimmy."
"What is that, Uncle Remus?" asked the little boy.
"Sorter splimmy-splammy, honey--sorter like he in a crowd--sorter
like his ole 'oman ain't dead ez she mout be. You know how fokes
duz w'en dey gits whar people's a moanin'."
The little boy didn't know, fortunately for him, and Uncle Remus
went on:
"Brer Fox en Brer Possum rustle roun', dey did, gittin out de
vittles, en bimeby Brer Fox, he say, sezee:
"'Brer Possum, you run down ter de spring en fetch de butter, en
I'll sail 'roun' yer en set de table,' sezee.
"Brer Possum, he lope off atter de butter, en dreckly here he
come lopin' back wid his years a trimblin' en his tongue a
hangin' out. Brer Fox, he holler out:
"'W'at de matter now, Brer Possum?' sezee.
"'You all better run yer, fokes,' sez Brer Possum, sezee. 'De
las' drap er dat butter done gone!'
"'Whar she gone?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.
"'Look like she dry up,' sez Brer Possum, sezee.
"Den Brer Rabbit, he look sorter sollum, he did, en he up'n say,
sezee.
"'I speck dat butter melt in somebody mouf,' sezee. Den dey went
down ter de spring wid Brer Possum, en sho nuff de butter done
gone. W'iles dey wuz sputin' over de wunderment, Brer Rabbit say
he see tracks all 'roun' dar, en he p'int out dat ef dey'll all
go ter sleep, he kin ketch de chap w'at stole de butter. Den dey
all lie down en Brer Fox en Brer Possum dey soon drapt off ter
sleep, but Brer Rabbit he stay 'wake, en w'en de time come he
raise up easy en smear Brer Possum mouf wid de butter on his
paws, en den he run off en nibble up de bes' er de dinner w'at
dey lef' layin' out, en den he come back en wake up Brer Fox, en
show 'im de butter on Brer Possum mouf. Den dey wake up Brer
Possum, en tell 'im 'bout it, but c'ose Brer Possum 'ny it ter de
las'. Brer Fox, dough, he's a kinder lawyer, en he argafy dis
way--dat Brer Possum wuz de fus one at de butter, en de fus one
fer ter miss it, en mo'n dat, dar hang de signs on his mouf. Brer
Possum see dat dey got 'im jammed up in a cornder, en den he up
en say dat de way fer ter ketch de man w'at stole de butter is
ter b'il' a big bresh-heap en set her afier, en all han's try ter
jump over, en de one w'at fall in, den he de chap w'at stole de
butter. Brer Rabbit en Brer Fox dey is bofe 'gree, dey did, en
dey whirl in en b'il' de breshheap, en dey b'il' her high en dey
b'il' her wide, en den dey totch her off. W'en she got ter
blazin' up good, Brer Rabbit, he tuck de fus turn. He sorter step
back, en look 'roun' en giggle, en over he went mo' samer dan a
bird flyin'. Den come Brer Fox. He got back little fudder, en
spit on his han's, en lit out en made de jump, en he come so nigh
gittin' in dat de een' er his tail kotch afier. Ain't you never
see no fox, honey?" inquired Uncle Remus, in a tone that implied
both conciliation and information.
The little boy thought probably he had, but he wouldn't commit
himself.
"Well, den," continued the old man, "nex' time you see one un um,
you look right close en see ef de een' er his tail ain't w'ite.
Hit's des like I tell you. Dey b'ars de skyar er dat bresh-heap
down ter dis day. Dey er marked--dat's w'at dey is--dey er
marked."
"And what about Brother Possum?" asked the little boy.
"Ole Brer Possum, he tuck a runnin' start, he did, en he come
lumberin' 'long, en he lit--kerblam!--right in de middle er de
fier, en dat wuz de las' er ole Brer Possum."
"But, Uncle Remus, Brother Possum didn't steal the butter after
all," said the little boy, who was not at all satisfied with such
summary injustice.
"Dat w'at make I say w'at I duz, honey. In dis worl', lots er
fokes is gotter suffer fer udder fokes sins. Look like hit's
mighty wrong; but hit's des dat away. Tribbalashun seem like
she's a waitin' roun' de cornder fer ter ketch one en all un us,
honey."