the tail, Phyllis hastened to add: "In dem days goats had tails des like
hosses. Soon es Billy menshun Sis' Cat's name, Ned Dog tell him Sis' Cat
layin' er trap fur him; but 'tain't no use ter argufy wid hard-head'd
fokes like Billy, so Ned Dog let 'im g'long ter de party; but he crope
close on b'hime 'im, an' on de way, he come up wid Mist'r Bloodhoun' an'
ax 'im ter g'long wid 'im. Mist'r Bloodhoun' say he pow'ful broke down
trailin' er runaway nigger all day, but ef Ned was 'spectin' er rompus he
'speck he'd hatt'r jine him. Bimeby, when Billy wus mos' down ter de
sweet-gum tree, dey hides deyse'fs in er clump er red haw bushes. Ole Brer
Bar he had done come down fum de mount'in early, an' wus standin' b'hime
de tree des er gorgin' 'esse'f wid honey an' peepin' out, lookin' fur
Billy Goat. When he see Billy come switchin' 'esse'f 'cross he pastur', he
'gun ter fidgitin' so he can't wait ter git es teef in him, an' he bus'
out fum b'hime de tree an' come er runnin' t'ards Billy. Billy wus so
skeered he jes' had sense ernuf ter turn 'esse'f roun'! Brer Bar ketch 'im
by de tail. Brer Bar pull, an' Billy pull. Billy pull, an' Brer Bar pull!
Bimeby, de tail come off in Brer Bar's claw. Den Billy lit out; but Brer
Bar grab 'im by de b'hime leg. Des den Mister Bloodhoun' an' Ned Dog wus
on top er Brer Bar! Ned Dog grab Brer Bar's paw in es teefs an' Brer Bar
drop Billy an' grab Ned by de ye'r an' wus mos' clampin' es jaws on Ned's
haid when Mist'r Bloodhoun' clinch 'im by de th'oat! Brer Bar ax Mister
Bloodhoun' please ter turn es th'oat loose, dat he got sumthin' ter tell
'im! Mist'r Bloodhoun' 'nounce: 'I won't turn you plum loose, but I'll
hol' yo' th'oat easy like tell you kin 'splain yo'se'f!'
"Den Brer Bar splainify 'esse'f an' beg so hard, tell bimeby dey 'scuses
'im, an' he amble' on home fas' es he kin. Den dey come on home ter settle
matters wid Sis' Cat. Sis' Cat was er settin' by Billy moanin' wid him
'bout losin' es tail."
"Did his tail ever grow out any more?" asked a sympathetic boy.
"No, honey, goats ain't nuv'r had no tails ter speak uv sense dat day; but
hoopee! hyah come Ned Dog an' Mister Bloodhoun'! Dey come er yelpin' wid
dey tongues er hangin' out. Dey pounce right whar Sis' Cat wus settin',
but dey ain't pounce quick as Sis' Cat kin jump; 'caze by de time dey hits
Sis' Cat's seat, Sis' Cat, she was plum on top er de cow house, standin'
dar wid 'er back up, an' her tail bushy out. Ned Dog dare her ter come
down an' splain 'erse'f; but Sis' Cat say she ain't got nuthin' ter
'splain, an' what's mo' she doan take no dog's dare. An' dat howcum dey
quoil an 'spute whensumever dey meets tell dis day."
"But, Mammy Phyllis, _all_ cats are not as mean as ole Sis' Cat," ventured
a little girl.
"Honey, my gran-mammy wus black! What color is I?"
"Black!" chimed all the children.
"An' dat crab apple tree,--what sort er apples does you git off'n _hit_?"
"Crab apples!" was the answer.
"Well, ole Sis' Cat was mean an' 'ceitful, an'all 'er chillun is gwine ter
be des like her long es I stays black an' dem crab apples stays sour. Now
run erlong,--dere's de fust bell!"
VIII
SHOO FLY
Phyllis was eating her dinner under the cherry tree near the kitchen door.
Willis seated himself on the grass in front of her.
"Mammy, you swallowed a fly then," he said with earnestness.
"Look er heah, boy, ain't you had ernuf ter eat, dat you got ter set hyah
an' sight ev'y piece uv vit'als I puts in my mouf?"
"Well, you didn't want to eat a fly, did you?" he answered defensively.
"Ef I eats er fly, hit's me doin' hit, ain't hit?" with a leg of a chicken
poised half way to her mouth.
"But Mama said they'd poison you." Willis was in trim for argument.
"Yo' ma got er heap er new fangl'd notions; I dunno howcum fokes jes'
startin' ter git fly pis'n'd. We bin eatin' vit'als dat flies lights on,
sense long 'fo' yo' ma wus born'd. An' An' Ca'line, dat's mos' er hundred
ye'r ole, say dat whin er fly light on her 'lasses she lick ev'y speck uv
hit off'n him 'fo' she let him git erway."
"Uncle Hugh says they'll make you awful sick," he pressed, though feeling
his position weakened.
"Dey doan make nobody sick, but dem whut puts on so miny airs," trying to
talk with her mouth over full.
"My mama don't put on airs," he insisted with a tone of injury.
"She do too--dey ain' nobody put on es min'y fly airs es yo' ma. I heah
one dese ve'y lit'le shoo flies talkin' 'bout Miss Lucy las' week. Shoo
Fly settin' up heah on de lim' er dis tree talkin' ter Hoss Fly. He tell
Hoss Fly he ain' had er squar' meal fur er mont'.
"Hoss Fly tell 'im ter come on an' g'long down ter de stable an' take
dinn'r wid 'im.
"Shoo Fly say, 'I can' git no sumthin' ter eat out'n corn, an' oats, I
wants chickin' pie, an' sweet tat'rs, an' blackberry dumplin' sich es
fokes eats--go off, boy,' he say, 'I ain' no Hoss Fly.'
"Hoss Fly say, 'Hits er pity yer ain't--yer wud live ter be er ole'r man
if yer wus.'"
"Why, Mammy, 'caus' Mister Hoss Fly's the biggest?" His eyes followed her,
as she went to the kitchen door and exchanged her plate for one of
blackberry dumpling.
"De bigges' ain' got nuthin' ter do wid hit," as she resumed her seat;
"hit de fokes dey haster 'sociate wid, dat's dang'us. Dey ain' nuthin'
mo' dangersum ter er fly'n yo' ma," she looked him straight in the eye.
"She got all de wind'rs fas'n'd up so yer can't shet er bline; an' she got
dat sticky pap'r you sets in ev'ytime yer goes in de kitchin; an' she got
dem pisnous flow'r boxes settin' ev'ywhar; an' she run 'roun' all day
atter one fly, hittin' 'bout de house like de fly wus pis'n, sho' nuf.
Miss Lucy's er sight, dat's de trufe, an' I doan blame Shoo Fly fur busin'
her."
The soft dumpling rolled down her throat, and Willis swallowed in
sympathy.
"Is Shoo Fly on the limb now?"
"Nor, he tak'n din'r wid me terday, an' las' night, he tak'n supp'r wid
Miss Lucy," she laughed aloud.
"Did Mama try to kill him?" anxiously.
"She sho' did, son, but dis heah Shoo Fly got er haid er Miss Lucy las'
night," still she laughed. "Yas, suh, Shoo Fly tell Hoss Fly he sho' gwine
perish ef he doan git er bite fum sumwhars.
"Hoss Fly ax 'im: 'Is yer skeer'd ter go in Miss Lucy's house fur
vit'als?'
"Shoo Fly say, 'I ain' feerd er no Miss Lucy--I bin buttin' m' haid up
'ginst sum'in' nuth'r in de wind'rs, tell m' haid right full er bumps.'
"Hoss Fly say, 'You ain' got no sense, Shoo Fly,--'cose you can't git in
dat wire foolishness! De onlies' way ter git in, is ter set up on de
porch, an' wait fur sum de fokes ter op'n de do'.'
"Dat peart'n Shoo Fly up moutily, an' he say he gwine dat minit, an' he
do. He git ter de front porch jes' es Miss Ma'y wus fancy talkin' ter one
er her beaux. Shoo Fly slip in, an' fly back ter de pantry an' light on
sum er dis heah right heah," she scraped the butter sauce from the edge of
the plate and smacked her lips. "Whoopee, dat sort'r vit'als drive de
skeer out'n enny fly. Shoo Fly jes' hop erbout, an' gorge hisse'f, tell
bimeby he can't hole no mo'. He start ter go out de wind'r, but he 'memb'r
'bout dem bumps on his haid, so he tu'n roun' ter go in de parler, whin he
come 'cross Miss Lucy! She start at 'im wid her fly-kill'r, an' sakes er
live!--you ort'r seed de way Shoo Fly make Miss Lucy run erbout dat
house!" Again she laughed, calling to mind Miss Lucy's daily fly fights.
"But Shoo Fly hide b'hime yer gran'pa's pictur' ov'r de mantelpiece, an'
wint fas' ter sleep. He doan wake up no mo' tell supp'r time, neeth'r. He
g'long in de dinin' room ter supp'r wid de fambly, an' whin dey sets down,
he tak'n his seat on de cream pitch'r. Miss Lucy knock at 'im, she do, den
he recoleck de fuss him an' her done had wid one nuth'r, so he g'long ov'r
ter Miss Ma'y's beau's plate, whar he know he kin eat all he want ter."
"Wasn't he afraid of Shoo Fly?" asked Willis, surprised.
"I nuv'r heah 'im pass no 'pinion 'bout de matt'r. Shoo Fly know dat man's
eyes too bizzy lookin' at sum'in' purtier'n him, an' he know ergin de man
got too much mann'rs ter set up an' fight flies whin he's vis'tin'.
"Miss Lucy, she sot dar an' mos' fidgit herse'f ter death, whin Shoo Fly
light fus' in de gent'muns vit'als, den up on his nose. De man breash 'im
off his nose er heap er times, but Shoo Fly g'long back ev'y time, 'caze
hit wus er nice place ter wash de greese off'n his face an' han's. An'
ev'y time he git coffee er ice cream, er enny thing on his foots, he
g'long back ter sumwhars on dat man's face ter wash his han's, an' wipe
'em on his coat tails. Miss Lucy say she know de man think she got er
million flies in dat house.
"Shoo Fly done full er vit'als now, so he g'long ter bed b'hime yer
gran'pa's pictur'. In de mawnin', he git up an' look erbout, he do, an' I
tell yer he git pow'ful wo' out waitin' fur dem sleepy haid'd niggers ter
start dey wurk, so by de time de cant'lopes git fix'd, Shoo Fly wus so
hongry dat he eat hisse'f plum full er mush-mil'n 'fo' brekfus' time. He
fly 'roun' an' zamine dat fly pap'r but he ain' got no room fur no mo'
eatin'; den he look at dat cur'us Pison flow'r, but he keep way fum dat,
'caze he say he ain' no bee. Jes' den heah come Miss Lucy wid 'er
fly-kill'r. Him an' her dances considerbul ergin, but bimeby he g'long ter
take er nap b'hime yer gran'pa, an' Miss Lucy set down ter read de mawnin'
pap'r.
"Whin he wake up, he sort'r feel holl'r, he do, 'caze cant'lope res'
mighty light yer knows, so he g'long ter hunt sumpin' nuth'r ter eat. He
think Miss Lucy done fergit 'im by now, but no, Lawd, he dunno Miss Lucy,
fur he ain' buz hisse'f mo'n er time er two, 'fo' Miss Lucy take atter
him. She skeer 'im so bad, dat he fergit all 'bout dem wire things in de
wind'r, but Lawsee, whin his haid come 'ginst de wire, hit knock de senses
out'n 'im, an' whin dat fly-kill'r er Miss Lucy's hit his toe, hit tu'n
'im so sick, he fell blip! right on de fly pap'r. Mussy grashus! you
ort'r heah Shoo Fly holl'rin' an' er buzzin' fur Hoss Fly.
"'Bout dis time, whin Hoss Fly doan see nuthin' er Shoo Fly on de cherry
tree, he g'long ter git er peep in at de wind'r ter see ef he kin git enny
news uv 'im; an' bless de Lawd, he ain' git ter de wind'r 'fo' he heah
Shoo Fly holl'rin': 'Oh, Hoss Fly, p-l-e-a-s-e come hope me out'n heah!'
"Hoss Fly run ter de front do', but dat's shet tight, so he take an' run
'roun' ter de kitchin do' whar he know dey's allus keerles'. He fly ter de
kitchin' do' an' seen Kitty standin' wid her foot in de do' passin' news
wid ole An' Malviny, an' he know he got plenty time ter go in an' 'ten'
ter his biznes', 'fo' dat do' git shet ergin. He fly thu de kitchin, an'
make fur de liberry, whar po' Shoo Fly had done mos' buzz hisse'f ter
death.
[Illustration: "SHOO-FLY HOLL'R, 'LOOK OUT FUR M' LEGS!'"]
"Hoss Fly swoop down an' grab 'im by de wing, but Shoo Fly holl'r, 'Look
out fur m' legs! Oh, Lawdy, you'se pullin' m' wing off--Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy!'
"Nobody dunno de mis'ry po' Shoo Fly wus in. I tell yer Hoss Fly wurk
mouty keerful ter git 'im all out tergeth'r. Den he liftes 'im up, but he
doan hatt'r hole on ter 'im, 'caze Shoo Fly so sticky he hole his own se'f
on. Hoss Fly come er flyin' back thu de kitchin."
"Did Kitty have the door open for him?"
"Cose, boy, ain't I done alreddy tole yer Kitty an' Mal gwine talk tell
Miss Lucy come an' put 'em ter wurk? Yas, suh, Hoss Fly didn't had no
trub'le gittin' 'im out er dat kitchin,--an' he come flyin' straight ter
de stable, an' light wid Shoo Fly on top er de kerrige. He tell 'im ter
roll hisse'f erbout on de kiv'r tell he git shed er dat sticky pison on
'im."
"Did Shoo Fly go back to the house when he got well?"
Willis rose as he saw the old woman preparing to take her plate to the
kitchen.
"Nor, suhree, Shoo Fly say, he done got his full er big fokes! He say he
done foun' out hit wus er heap bett'r ter g'long an' live whar de Lawd
born'd yer ter live at, dan ter go 'mongst fokes dat doan want yer."
IX
ELECTION DAY
"Mammy, can't my papa be mayor if he wants to?" bragged Willis, darting a
satisfied look at Mary Van.
"I'll tell yer mo' 'bout dat dis time termorrer," was the unexpected
reply.
"Yahn, yahn, yahn," taunted Mary Van.
"He can, too," retorted Willis.
Willis's papa was a candidate for mayor, hence in the family politics
colored the conversation from the parlor through the nursery even to the
kitchen.
"De reason I says whut I does," Mammy apologized, "is 'caze dey tells me
er dark hoss kin jump in at de las' minit an bus' de whole thing all ter
pieces."
"Does he kick up and run away?" Willis jerked at her apron to hasten the
reply.
"Dey runs erway wid de 'lection sometimes, ef de uth'r run'rs ain' sho'
nuf race hosses an' got mighty strong harnes' on 'em."
"Mammy, less me an' Mary Van be race hosses, an' you be er dark hoss, an'
see which one can beat."
"I low ef we-all wuster race hoss 'roun' dis hyah garret, 'tain' long fo'
yo' ma'll be de dark hoss ter do de beatin'."
"No, Mammy, put m' harness on," shaking the bells in impatience.
"I can't play no race hoss up hyah terday, boy, 'caze Miss Lucy got her
mine on 'lection news, an' she say you got ter be quiet."
"No, I'm going to be a race horse, put m' harness on!"
"Auntie might whip you, Willis," ventured Mary Van, "mightn't she, Mammy
Phyllis?"
"She whup 'im in er minit, ef he fool wid her terday."
"Well, Mammy--" he fretted.
"Lis'n hyah, baby--Miss Race Hoss settin' ov'r yond'r in de pastur'
waitin' jes' like yo' ma is terday."
"What's she waiting for?"
"Waitin' ter hyah ef Mist'r Race Hoss beat Brer Bar ter be ruler er de
beastes. Oh, I tell yer Ned Dog mos' run hisse'f plum ter death gittin'
votes fur Mist'r Race Hoss; an' Mist'r Wile Cat, he de haid man gittin'
votes fur Brer Bar."
"But, Mammy--"
"Lawd, boy, I wush you cud heah de scand'lous bettin' gwine on in dat
pastur'--ev'ybody puttin' money on Mist'r Race Hoss, 'caze dey see Brer
Bar's too slow an' sleepy mind'd ter keep up wid Mist'r Race Hoss. An'
den, too, nobody doan trus' Mist'r Wile Cat fur nuthin'. Mist'r Wile Cat
all time projeckin' wid some sorter big sumpin' nuth'r dat nuv'r do tu'n
out ter be er thing. So yer see nobody ain' gwine vote fur Brer Bar, 'caze
dey skeer'd er Mist'r Wile Cat's dealin's. Dey talks all dis out in de
pastur', an' Mist'r Tom Cat he set an' lis'n ter de confab. Sometime he
buse Brer Bar, an' sometime he make out he 'sleep an' doan heah.
"One day Mist'r Jack Donkey wint up ter de fod'r rack ter git er chaw er
fod'r, an' whin he come thu de cow shed he come 'cross Mist'r Tom Cat
stretchin' his claws. Atter dey passes howdy wid one nuth'r, Mist'r Tom
Cat, he say, 'Jack, I heah some fokes say, dey wush ter de Lawd you wus
in Brer Bar's place.'
"Jack, he tu'n his ye'rs 'roun', he do, an' say, 'Who say dat, Tom?'
"Tom Cat say, 'Ev'ybody jes' wushin' fur er big sho' nuf man like you ter
come in an' whoop out dat ole stuck up Race Hoss.'
"Whin Jack Donkey heah dat, he sorter switch his tail, an' stomp fus' one
foot an' den de uth'rs uv his foots, an' he keep his ye'rs tu'nin' 'roun'
an' 'roun'."
"What's the reason he does that, Mammy Phyllis; were the flies bothering
him?" asked the little girl.
"He studyin', honey, dat sort'r confab'll wurk on men fokes, let lone er
donkey. Jack sort'r tu'n matt'rs ov'r in his mine, an' he say ter hisse'f,
'I sho' is er sho' nuf big man, an' I sho' is got er heap er sense, 'caze
I kin outdo Mist'r Man up yond'r enny day. Nobody can't make me do
nuthin' my mine ain' sot on doin', an' enybody kin hitch up dat high
steppin' Race Hoss, an' make 'im plow er do enny sort'r thing whut dey
pleases. Yas,' he says, 'I got mo' sense dan Race Hoss, an' bless de Lawd,
ef I doan b'leef I'm bett'r lookin', too!'
"Mist'r Tom Cat ain' say er thing, he jes' keep er stretchin' his claws,
waitin' fur Jack Donkey ter git plum full er hisse'f. Bimeby, he git full
ernuf ter bile ov'r, an' he say, 'Brer Tom, I ain' much on pol'ticks, you
knows dat,--but ef de plantation is jes' brow beat by dat ripsnortin' Race
Hoss, an' can't git shed er him no uth'r way, 'cep'n fur some uth'r bigg'r
man 'n him ter run 'ginst 'im, den I'm yer man.'
"Tom, he light out fum dar, an' make tracks all ov'r de pastur' tell he
come ter Mist'r Billy Goat's house."
"Was it Ned Dog's Billy Goat?" and Willis was contented to lay aside the
harness.
"Hit wus Billy's gran'pa, ole Cap'n Goat. Cap'n Goat wus walkin' up an'
down de branch washin' his foots an' takin' er swall'r er water ev'y now
an' den, an' whin Tom Cat come erlong an' op'n up an' tell his biznes', de
Cap'n git so 'cited, dat he stomp water all ov'r creation, an' Tom git
right sharply sprinkl'd. He jump up an' shake hisse'f, he do, an' sorter
start up ter de shade er de chestnut tree. Dey pass er heap er
conversation, dey does, but de upshot uv hit wus, dat Cap'n Goat 'cide ter
put Jack Donkey up es er dark hoss.
"Mist'r Tom Cat, he run an' tell Brer Mule, an' Mist'r Dur'm Cow, an'
Mist'r Brindle Cow, an' ole man Hog, ter run quick ter de ches'nut tree,
dat Cap'n Goat's got sumpin' big ter tell 'em! Whin dey gits dar, an'
passes de news back'ards an' fur'ards 'mongst derse'fs, dey 'cides ter run
Jack Donkey in de race.
"Mist'r Dur'am Cow say, 'Jack's mo' stronger'n Race Hoss.'
"Ole man Hog say, 'Yas, an' he kin wurk long'r an' mo' hard'r'n Race
Hoss.'
"Oh, dey praises Jack Donkey up moutily, an' all uv 'em say dey'll whup
Mist'r Race Hoss so bad dat he'll be 'sham'd ter trot 'long side uv er mud
turtle.
"Dey so bizzy wid der confab, dat dey ain' notice Mist'r Wile Cat settin'
up on er lim' er de tree. Atter dey spies him, dey axes 'im ter pass his
'pinion on de meetin'.
"He up an' low, he did, dat he know Brer Bar ain' in de race, but, sezee,
'Jack Donkey can't do much bet'r'n Brer Bar, ef you let fokes know 'im.'
"Dey axes him how dey kin hope hit.
"He tell 'em ter run him by de name er Bline Billy.
"Dey ax 'im how he speck Bline Billy name gwine keep fokes fum knowin'
Jack Donkey whin he 'pear ter make his canvas.
"Wile Cat say ter make 'im kiv'r hisse'f up whinsumev'r he rise 'fo' de
congregation.
"An' dat's whut dey done, an' nobody 'cep'n dem fokes und'r de ches'nut
tree know Bline Billy's sho' nuf name.
"Ned Dog, he go tell Mist'r Race Hoss 'bout dis new fine run'r dat's
makin' sich fine speeches 'ginst 'im. Mist'r Race Hoss tell Ned Dog ter
git der side tergeth'r so dey kin confab erbout de mat'r. Ned Dog, he
passes de wurd ter 'em all, an' he 'speshully tell Brer Mule ter be dar
sho'.
"Brer Mule tell him he can't make up his min' which side he's on, he say
he kin ter Bline Billy, an' he ort'r vote fur him.
"Ned Dog tell him he mustn't fergit dat him an' Mist'r Race Hoss kin, too.
"He say he ain' fergit hit, an' dat's howcum he so twist'd up 'bout
votin'. He set an' study, he do, an' de mo' he study, de mo' he can't make
up his mine."
"Make him vote for Mister Race Hoss, Mammy."
"Make who, boy?--Brer Mule settin' up on dat fence stud'in' jes whar Ned
Dog lef' 'im."
Willis became discouraged over Mister Race Horse's prospects and insisted
with much feeling that Phyllis had influenced the animals in Jack
Donkey's behalf.
"Go off, boy, how I gwine make dese trashy creeturs vote fur high tone
fokes like yo' pa an' Mist'r Race Hoss? Dey dunno nuthin' 'cep'n whut de
murchine tell 'em ter vote," shaking her head in condemnation and mumbling
to herself. "Sometimes I studies ter m'se'f ef de wimmin fokes cud do enny
bett'r."
"Mammy Phyllis, please make somebody come to Mister Race Horse's meetin',"
urged Mary Van.
"Doan you both'r yose'f 'bout dat meetin', 'caze Ned Dog both'rin' nuf fur
bofe uv yer. He go tell Mist'r Rooster ter telerfome ter Mist'r Turk'y
Gobler, an' Mist'r Peacock, an' he tell Mist'r Bloodhoun' fur him ter run
an' tell Mist'r Jersey Cow, an'--"
"An' Mister Turtle," suggested Willis, trying to help the meeting along.
"Nor, suh, ole man Mud Turtle ain' got no bisnes' at dis meetin', he
'longs wid de Bline Billy crowd. Ef you talkin' 'bout Mist'r Di'mon' Back
Terrapin, den you'se right, 'caze he wus dar on de amen bench, an'--"
"Where were the sheep, Mammy?"
"Dat's so, baby, I mos' fergit all 'bout de 'spute Unk Bell Weth'r an' ole
Daddy Ram Sheep had 'bout de mat'r. Daddy Ram Sheep wanter vote fur Bline
Billy, but Unk Bell Weth'r say dey got ter heah mo' speakin' 'fo' dey got
nuf sense ter know which one de bes' side.
"Well, de speakin' start' an' I tell yer hit kep' up scand'lus, too.
"Mist'r Race Hoss 'vite Bline Billy an' Brer Bar bofe uv 'em ter speak
wid 'im, but Brer Bar feer'd ter, an' ev'y time Jack Donkey say he gwine
mix speeches wid Mist'r Race Hoss, ole Uncle Gee-Haw Steer giv' er big
kick 'ginst hit.
"He say, 'Twon' do, twon' do!'
"Fin'ly Ned Dog ax Cap'n Goat ef Bline Billy skeer'd ter meet Mist'r Race
Hoss on de same stump, will he 'gree ter meet 'im on diffunt stumps but
tolerbul close tergether, so dey kin see which one kin out do de uth'r.
"Cap'n Goat say Bline Billy ain' skeer'd er no race hoss dat ev'r capr'd
on er track, an' ter 'nounce de time an' name de stumps, an' Blin'
Billy'll be dar wid fo' foots an' er tongue dat'll make Mist'r Race Hoss
eat up all dat big talk he bin scat'rin' 'roun'.
"Whin ole Unk Gee-Haw Steer heah 'bout de meetin' he kick er 'ginst hit,
he say dat donkey gwine make er jack er hisse'f sho' es sho' kin be; dat
fokes'll fin' out who Bline Billy is, ef he start ter talkin' wid Mist'r
Race Hoss.
"Mist'r Tom Cat say, 'Nor, Jack Donkey gwinter keep hisse'f kiv'r'd up
plum tell de 'lection's ov'r.'
"Sez Unk Gee-Haw Steer, 'I wants yer all ter 'member I kick'd 'ginst hit
ter de ve'y las'.'
"Oh, I tells yer dar wus mouty times gwine on gittin' reddy fur dat
'casion; de pastur' wus plum full er flags.
"Sis' Tabby Cat, she slip ov'r ter Miss Race Hosses house an' say, 'Miss
Race Hoss, Mist'r Tom Cat say hit mos' kill him ter vote 'ginst Mist'r
Race Hoss, but Cap'n Goat done bin sich er good frin' ter our fambly dat
Tom bleege ter do like de Cap'n ax 'im, but hit mos' killin' Tom, 'caze he
say Mist'r Race Hoss is de man fur de place, an' he hope he gwine git
'lect'd.'
"Miss Race Hoss ain' sayin' nuthin'. She know all 'bout Mist'r Tom Cat's
doin's an' Sis' Tabby wusn't foolin' nobody but herse'f. Lawd, chillun,"
she mused, preparing to cut some quilt pieces, "how menny Sis' Tabby Cats
is bin ter see Miss Lucy heah lately?"
"Well, de speakin' day come. Bline Billy wus settin' off on his stump all
kiv'r'd up, so nobody kin tell him. Cap'n Goat settin' right close ter him
whisperin' all de time, an' Brer Turkey Buzzard he swoopin' all eroun' de
congergation takin' messages fur Cap'n Goat, an' pickin' up eny scrap uv
vit'als he kin fine.
"Mist'r Race Hoss settin' on his stump, too, wid Jedge Eagle perch'd 'long
side er him an' Ned Dog on de uth'r side.
"Mist'r Bull-finch an' John Mockin' Bird wus de lead'rs er de ban' an' I
tell yer dat musick wus sumthin' ter heah sho' nuf.
"Cap'n Goat say dey doan want no musick playin' at der speakin'.
"Brer Bull Frog say: 'Nor, suhree, you git er jug-er-rum an' put hit wit
Sis' Ginny Hen's boys up in de gal'ry, long wid Miss Wile Lucy Goose's
chilluns, an' you got nuf fuss fur fifty meetin's.'
"Mist'r Tom Cat slap down on his leg an' say, 'Dat's de very thing; dat ef
Mist'r Race Hoss git ter th'owin' off too much language, jes' ter git Brer
Bull Frog ter start off de Ginny chorus an' he bet Race Hoss won't heah
his own se'f talk.'"
Willis moved closer. "Was all of 'em sittin' together, Mammy?"
"Nor, dey wus fur nuf erpart fur bofe uv 'em ter keep der own crowd."
"Where did Brer Mule sit?" Mary Van remembered to ask.
"And where did Uncle Bell Weth'r take the sheep?" put in Willis.
"Brer Mule had bisnes' dat take 'im clean off'n de plantation, honey, an'
dat bisnes' keep 'im plum tell 'lection day's ov'r. Yas, Lawd, an' er
whole passel er yo' pa's frien's went wid him ter hope 'im ten' ter his
bisnes'."
"Did Uncle Bell Weth'r and the sheep go, too?"
"Nor, son, dey jes' nachelly ain' got der mines sot yit, an' dey ain'
settin' wid one nur t'other. Dey huddl'd tergeth'r right b'twixt de two,
waitin' fur Unk Bell Weth'r ter ring de bell, den all uv 'em gwine move
tergeth'r.
"But youall keep er talkin' so much, Mist'r Race Hoss an' Bline Billy
gittin' wo' out settin' on dem stumps."
"Tell 'em to start, Mammy."
"Dey done start, baby. Bline Billy's ginny chorus jes' er pot'rackin' hard
es dey kin, 'caze Brer Bull Frog so full er jug-er-rum, dat he start 'em
off too soon. Cose de gooses turn loose soon es de ginnies give de fus
'potter-rack.'