The next time the little boy got permission to call upon Uncle
Remus, the old man was sitting in his door, with his elbows on
his knees and his face buried in his hands, and he appeared to be
in great trouble. "What's the matter, Uncle Remus?" the youngster
asked. "Nuff de matter, honey--mo' dan dey's enny kyo' fer. Ef
dey ain't some quare gwines on 'roun' dis place I ain't name
Remus."
The serious tone of the old man caused the little boy to open
his eyes. The moon, just at its full, cast long, vague, wavering
shadows in front of the cabin. A colony of tree-frogs somewhere
in the distance were treating their neighbors to a serenade, but
to the little boy it sounded like a chorus of lost and long-
forgotten whistlers. The sound was wherever the imagination
chose to locate it--to the right, to the left, in the air, on
the ground, far away or near at hand, but always dim and always
indistinct. Something in Uncle Remus's tone exactly fitted all
these surroundings, and the child nestled closer to the old man.
"Yasser," continued Uncle Remus, with an ominous sigh and
mysterious shake of the head, "ef dey ain't some quare gwines on
in dish yer naberhood, den I'm de ball-headest creetur 'twix' dis
en nex' Jinawerry wuz a year 'go, w'ich I knows I ain't. Dat's
what."
"What is it, Uncle Remus?"
"I know Mars John bin drivin' Cholly sorter hard ter-day, en I
say ter myse'f dat I'd drap 'round 'bout dus' en fling nudder
year er corn in de troff en kinder gin 'im a techin' up wid de
kurrier-koam; en bless grashus! I ain't bin in de lot mo'n a
minnit 'fo' I seed sump'n wuz wrong wid de hoss, and sho' nuff
dar wuz his mane full er witch-stirrups."
"Full of what, Uncle Remus?"
"Full er witch-stirrups, honey. Ain't you seed no witch-stirrups?
Well, w'en you see two stran' er ha'r tied tergedder in a hoss's
mane, dar you see a witch-stirrup, en, mo'n dat, dat hoss done
bin rid by um."
"Do you reckon they have been riding Charley?" inquired the
little boy.
"Co'se, honey. Tooby sho dey is. W'at else dey bin doin'?"
"Did you ever see a witch, Uncle Remus?"
"Dat ain't needer yer ner dar. W'en I see coon track in de
branch, I know de coon bin 'long dar."
The argument seemed unanswerable, and the little boy asked, in a
confidential tone:
"Uncle Remus, what are witches like?"
"Dey comes diffunt," responded the cautious old darkey. "Dey
comes en dey cunjus fokes. Squinch-owl holler eve'y time he
see a witch, en w'en you hear de dog howlin' in de middle er de
night, one un um's mighty ap' ter be prowlin' 'roun'. Cunjun
fokes kin tell a witch de minnit dey lays der eyes on it, but dem
w'at ain't cunjun, hit's mighty hard ter tell w'en dey see one,
kaze dey might come in de 'pearunce un a cow en all kinder
creeturs. I ain't bin useter no cunjun myse'f, but I bin livin'
long nuff fer ter know w'en you meets up wid a big black cat in
de middle er de road, wid yaller eyeballs, dar's yo' witch fresh
fum de Ole Boy. En, fuddermo', I know dat 'tain't proned inter no
dogs fer ter ketch de rabbit w'at use in a berryin'-groun'. Dey
er de mos' ongodlies' creeturs w'at you ever laid eyes on,"
continued Uncle Remus, with unction. "Down dar in Putmon County
yo' Unk Jeems, he make like he gwineter ketch wunner dem dar
graveyard rabbits. Sho nuff, out he goes, en de dogs ain't no
mo'n got ter de place fo' up jump de old rabbit right 'mong um,
en atter runnin''roun' a time or two, she skip right up ter Mars
Jeems, en Mars Jeems, he des put de gun-bar'l right on 'er en
lammed aloose. Hit tored up de groun' all 'roun', en de dogs, dey
rush up, but dey wa'n't no rabbit dar; but bimeby Mars Jeems, he
seed de dogs tuckin' der tails 'tween der legs, en he look up, en
dar wuz de rabbit caperin' 'roun' on a toom stone, en wid dat
Mars Jeems say he sorter feel like de time done come w'en yo'
gran'ma was 'specktin' un him home, en he call off de dogs en put
out. But dem wuz ha'nts. Witches is deze yer kinder fokes w'at
kin drap der body en change inter a cat en a wolf en all kinder
creeturs."
"Papa says there ain't any witches," the little boy interrupted.
"Mars John ain't live long ez I is," said Uncle Remus, by way of
comment. "He ain't bin broozin' roun' all hours er de night en
day. I know'd a nigger w'ich his brer wuz a witch, kaze he up'n
tole me how he tuck'n kyo'd 'im; en he kyo'd 'im good, mon."
"How was that?" inquired the little boy.
"Hit seem like," continued Uncle Remus, "dat witch fokes is got a
slit in de back er de neck, en w'en dey wanter change derse'f,
dey des pull de hide over der head same ez if 'twuz a shut, en
dar dey is."
"Do they get out of their skins?" asked the little boy, in an
awed tone.
"Tooby sho, honey. You see yo' pa pull his shut off? Well, dat
des 'zackly de way dey duz. But dish yere nigger w'at I'm tellin'
you 'bout, he kyo'd his brer de ve'y fus pass he made at him. Hit
got so dat fokes in de settlement didn't have no peace. De
chilluns 'ud wake up in de mawnins wid der ha'r tangle up, en wid
scratches on um like dey bin thoo a brier-patch, twel bimeby one
day de nigger he 'low dat he'd set up dat night en keep one eye
on his brer; en sho' nuff dat night, des ez de chickens wuz
crowin' fer twelve, up jump de brer and pull off his skin en sail
out'n de house in de shape un a bat, en w'at duz de nigger do but
grab up de hide, and turn it wrong-sudout'ards en sprinkle it wid
salt. Den he lay down en watch fer ter see w'at de news wuz
gwineter be. Des 'fo' day yer come a big black cat in de do', en
de nigger git up, he did, en druv her away. Bimeby, yer come a
big black dog snuffin' roun', en de nigger up wid a chunk en
lammed 'im side er de head. Den a squinch-owl lit on de koam er
de house, en de nigger jam de shovel in de fier en make 'im flew
away. Las', yer come a great big black wolf wid his eyes shinin'
like fier coals, en he grab de hide and rush out. 'Twa'n't long
'fo' de nigger year his brer holler'n en squallin', en he tuck a
light, he did, en went out, en dar wuz his brer des a waller'n on
de groun' en squirmin' 'roun', kaze de salt on de skin wuz
stingin' wuss'n ef he had his britches lineded wid yallerjackets.
By nex' mawnin' he got so he could sorter shuffle long, but he
gun up cunjun, en ef dere wuz enny mo' witches in dat settlement
dey kep' mighty close, en dat nigger he ain't skunt hisse'f no
mo' not endurin' er my 'membunce."
The result of this was that Uncle Remus had to take the little
boy by the hand and go with him to the "big house," which the old
man was not loath to do; and, when the child went to bed, he lay
awake a long time expecting an unseemly visitation from some
mysterious source. It soothed him, however, to hear the strong,
musical voice of his sable patron, not very far away, tenderly
contending with a lusty tune; and to this accompaniment the
little boy dropped asleep:
"Hit's eighteen hunder'd, forty-en-eight,
Christ done made dat crooked way straight--
En I don't wanter stay here no longer;
Hit's eighteen hunder'd, forty-en-nine,
Christ done turn dat water inter wine--
En I don't wanter stay here no longer."