"HIT look like ter me," said Uncle Remus, frowning, as the
little boy came hopping and skipping into the old man's cabin,
"dat I see a young un 'bout yo' size playin' en makin' free wid
dem ar chilluns er ole Miss Favers's yistiddy, en w'en I seed
dat, I drap my axe, en I come in yer en sot flat down right whar
you er settin' now, en I say ter myse'f dat it's 'bout time fer
ole Remus fer ter hang up en quit. Dat's des zackly w'at I say."
"Well, Uncle Remus, they called me," said the little boy, in a
penitent tone. 'They come and called me, and said they had a
pistol and some powder over there."
"Dar now!" exclaimed the old man, indignantly. "Dar now! w'at I
bin sayin'? Hit's des a born blessin' dat you wa'n't brung home
on a litter wid bofe eyeballs hangin' out en one year clean gone;
dat's w'at 'tis. Hit's des a born blessin'. Hit hope me up
might'ly de udder day w'en I hear Miss Sally layin' down de law
'bout you en dem Favers chillun, yit, lo en behol's, de fus news
I knows yer you is han'-in-glove wid um. Hit's nuff fer ter fetch
ole Miss right up out'n dat berryin'-groun' fum down dar in
Putmon County, en w'at yo' gran'ma wouldn't er stood me en yo' ma
ain't gwineter stan' nudder, en de nex time I hear 'bout sech a
come off ez dis, right den en dar I'm boun' ter lay de case 'fo'
Miss Sally. Dem Favers's wa'n't no 'count 'fo' de war, en dey
wa'n't no 'count endurin' er de war, en dey ain't no 'count
atterwards, en w'iles my head's hot you ain't gwineter go mixin'
up yo'se'f wid de riff-raff er creashun."
The little boy made no further attempt to justify his conduct. He
was a very wise little boy, and he knew that, in Uncle Remus's
eyes, he had been guilty of a flagrant violation of the family
code. Therefore, instead of attempting to justify himself, he
pleaded guilty, and promised that he would never do so any more.
After this there was a long period of silence, broken only by the
vigorous style in which Uncle Remus puffed away at his pipe. This
was the invariable result. Whenever the old man had occasion to
reprimand the little boy--and the occasions were frequent--he
would relapse into a dignified but stubborn silence. Presently
the youngster drew forth from his pocket a long piece of candle.
The sharp eyes of the old man saw it at once.
"Don't you come a tellin' me dat Miss Sally gun you dat," he
exclaimed, "kaze she didn't. En I lay you hatter be monstus sly
'fo' you gotter chance fer ter snatch up dat piece er cannle."
"Well, Uncle Remus," the little boy explained, "it was lying
there all by itself, and I just thought I'd fetch it out to you.
"Dat's so, honey," said Uncle Remus, greatly mollified; "dat's
so, kaze by now some er dem yuther niggers 'ud er done had her
lit up. Dey er mighty biggity, dem house niggers is, but I
notices dat dey don't let nuthin' pass. Dey goes 'long wid der
han's en der mouf open, en w'at one don't ketch de tother one
do."
There was another pause, and finally the little boy said:
"Uncle Remus, you know you promised to-day to tell me why the
'Possum has no hair on his tail."
"Law, honey! ain't you done gone en fergot dat off'n yo' mine
yit? Hit look like ter me," continued the old man, leisurely
refilling his pipe, "dat she sorter run like dis: One time ole
Brer Possum, he git so hungry, he did, dat he bleedzd fer ter
have a mess er 'simmons. He monstus lazy man, old Brer Possum
wuz, but bimeby his stummick 'gun ter growl en holler at 'im so
dat he des hatter rack 'roun' en hunt up sump'n; en w'iles he wuz
rackin' 'roun', who sh'd he run up wid but Brer Rabbit, en dey
wuz hail-fellers, kaze Brer Possum, he ain't bin bodder'n Brer
Rabbit like dem yuther creeturs. Dey sot down by de side er de
big road, en dar dey jabber en confab 'mong wunner nudder, twel
bimeby old Brer Possum, he take 'n tell Brer Rabbit dat he mos'
pe'sh out, en Brer Rabbit, he lip up in de a'r, he did, en smack
his han's tergedder, en say dat he know right whar Brer Possum
kin git a bait er 'simmons. Den Brer Possum, he say whar, en Brer
Rabbit, he say w'ich 'twuz over at Brer B'ar's 'simmon orchard."
"Did the Bear have a 'simmon orchard, Uncle Remus?" the little
boy asked.
"Co'se, honey, kaze in dem days Brer B'ar wuz a bee-hunter. He
make his livin' findin' bee trees, en de way he fine um he plant
'im some 'simmon-trees, w'ich de bees dey'd come ter suck de
'simmons en den ole Brer B'ar he'd watch um whar dey'd go, en
den he'd be mighty ap' fer ter come up wid um. No matter 'bout
dat, de 'simmon patch 'uz dar des like I tell you, en ole Brer
Possum mouf 'gun ter water soon's he year talk un um, en mos'
'fo' Brer Rabbit done tellin' 'im de news, Brer Possum, he put
out, he did, en 'twa'n't long 'fo' he wuz perch up in de highes'
tree in Brer B'ar 'simmon patch. But Brer Rabbit, he done
'termin' fer ter see some fun, en w'iles all dis 'uz gwine on, he
run 'roun' ter Brer B'ar house, en holler en tell 'im w'ich dey
wuz somebody 'stroyin' un his 'simmons, en Brer B'ar, he hustle
off fer ter ketch 'im.
"Eve'y now en den Brer Possum think he year Brer B'ar comin',
but he keep on sayin', sezee:
"'I'll des git one 'simmon mo' en den I'll go; one 'simmon mo' en
den I'll go.'
"Las' he year Brer B'ar comm' sho nuff, but 'twuz de same ole
chune--'One 'simmon mo' en den I'll go'--en des 'bout dat time
Brer B'ar busted inter de patch, en gin de tree a shake, en Brer
Possum, he drapt out longer de yuther ripe 'simmons, but time he
totch de groun' he got his foots tergedder, en he lit out fer de
fence same ez a race-hoss, en 'cross dat patch him en Brer B'ar
had it, en Brer B'ar gain' eve'y jump, twel time Brer Possum make
de fence Brer B'ar grab 'im by de tail, en Brer Possum, he went
out 'tween de rails en gin a powerful juk en pull his tail out
'twix Brer B'ar tushes; en, lo en behol's, Brer B'ar hol' so
tight en Brer Possum pull so hard dat all de ha'r come off in
Brer B'ar's mouf, w'ich, ef Brer Rabbit hadn't er happen up wid a
go'd er water, Brer B'ar 'der got strankle.
"Fum dat day ter dis," said Uncle Remus, knocking the ashes
carefully out of his pipe, "Brer Possum ain't had no ha'r on his
tail, en needer do his chilluns."