fur de Lawd sake ter stop de fuss, so Jack Donkey kin speak, 'caze Mist'r
Race Hoss wus jes' er speakin' gran' an' gittin' way erhead; an' Cap'n
Goat settin' up dar pullin' his whisk'rs an' farely chawin' de een's off.
Fin'ly Brer Turkey Buzzard whisper ter Jim Puddle Duck, but Jim Duck
sorter deef an' he think Brer Buzzard say fur his fambly ter go he'p 'long
de fuss. So he go, he do, an' geth'r 'em up, an' Miss Screech Owel's
fokes, too, an' dey starts sich ernuth'r holl'rin' es nobody ain' nuv'r
heah befo' nur sense. Cap'n Goat try ter shout out er few wurds, but
nobody can' heah er wurd, so Mist'r Durham Cow raise his beller ter try
ter hope him, but dat done do no good. Den Mist'r Tom Cat see ef he kin
git in er wurd, but nobody wud know he wus talkin' les'n dey see his mouf
wurkin'.
"Whoopee! Jack Donkey wus so mad, he hop up ter holler, too, but Mist'r
Wile Cat hidin' b'hime 'im, grabs 'im by de kiv'r an' tell 'im ter set
still tell dey holl'rs derse'fs out. He say, 'Den you kin speak atter
Mist'r Race Hoss gits all wo' out.' But nor suhree, dat 'vice ain' suitin'
Jack Donkey, an' whut's mo', he too hard haided ter lis'n enyhow, so he up
an' start ter holl'rin his 'He-haw, he-haw.'
"Whoopee! dat stop de fuss! Somebody 'gun ter holl'r: 'Bline Billy ain'
nobody but ole Jack Donkey!' All uv 'em say, 'De idee er Jack Donkey
puttin' hisse'f up ter be rul'r er de beastes.'
"Unk Bell Weth'r shake de bell, an' all de sheep flocks ter Mist'r Race
Hoss's side.
"Oh, I tell yer dar wusn't but er han'ful er fokes lef' on Jack's side."
"Why did Jack Donkey pull his cov'r off, Mammy?"
"He didn't hatt'r pull his kiv'r off, son, caze Jack call out his own
name--can't you tell er donkey whin you heahs him bray?"
At that moment a band and shouts of people were heard coming up the
street.
"Lawsee! chillun! Less git down fum heah; I b'leef in m' soul Mist'r Race
Hoss done beat dis race sho' nuf."
X
MISTER BAD 'SIMMON TREE
"Look at that big old grape tree, Mammy Phyllis," said Mary Van, as she
ran beside the little boy gathering wild flowers in the woods back of the
house.
"That's not a grape tree, Mary Van--it's a grape vine," corrected Willis.
"'Tain't, it's a tree, isn't it, Mammy?"
"It's a vine," he emphasized with a shake of her arm.
"Make him stop, he's knocking my flowers."
"Dey ain't no use youall 'sputin' 'bout Miss Wile Grape. Bofe uv yer's got
hit right. She uster be Miss Wile Grape Vine 'fo' she take an' marry ole
man Holl'r Tree. Now she call herse'f Miss Grape Vine Tree."
"Where's Old Man Holl'r Tree?"
"Yond'rs him,--standin' b'hime Miss Wile Grape. Dey's er heap er men fokes
hidin' b'hime der ole ladies in dis worl', too! Yas, suh! an' dey's er
heap uv 'ooman fokes dat act jes' like Miss Wile Grape done whin Mist'r
Wise Oak tell her long time ergo ter stop keepin' comp'ny wid Holl'r Tree.
Mist'r Wise Oak tell her Holl'r Tree ain' fit'n fur nuthin' but ter hide
possums in.
"She say, 'I doan keer ef he can't do nuthin', I kin make er livin' fur
bofe uv us, but I'm jes' bleeg ter have sumbody ter lean on.'
"He say, 'Doan git er long s' fas', Wile Grape; lay low fur er while, an'
'twon' be long 'fo' young Johnnie Live Oak'll reach out an' ax you ter
lean on him.'
"She say, 'No, I ain' gwine 'ginst Holl'r Tree jes' 'caze he's gettin' ole
an' ball.'
"Miss Crab Apple tell her, 'Dat's right, grab yer fus' chance, 'caze yer
ain' gwina git no mo'.' Dat hu't po' lit'le Wile Grape's feelin's, an' she
sorter wilt an' creep on de groun' tell Miss Bizzy Bee come an' tell her
Holl'r Tree say ef she doan come on, he gwine tumble ter pieces. Den she
lif' up her haid an' git Bob Win' ter take her up ter Holl'r Tree, an' she
bin dar ev'r sense, tryin' ter hide his ole ugly se'f; an' de wurser he
look, de mo' purty leaves an' grapes she try ter kiv'r ov'r him."
"What'd Miss Crab Apple say?" Mary Van wanted to hear the gossip.
"Nobody ain' lis'n ter whut she say, 'caze she so sour an' mean, ev'ybody
keep out'n her way."
Willis darted ahead. "Look, Mammy, look at the persimmons!" and he began
hurling stones towards the tree.
"Nobody doan want no green 'simmons, boy."
"They're not green, they're yellow," and another stone followed.
"Let dem 'simmons 'lone, I tell yer--dey ain' fit'n fur nothin', doan keer
ef dey is yaller. De fros' got ter fall on 'em 'fo' eb'n possums'll eat
'em." She added, under her breath, "Like dese heah sour fokes dat don't
nuv'r git sweet tell trub'le hit 'em."
"I don't care, I'm going to knock 'em down anyway."
"Ahah, you gwine be hard-haid'd jes' like 'Simmon Tree wus whin he wus er
lit'le hard-haid'd boy tree, an' his ma tell him ter stop sassyin' old
fokes."
"Who did he sassy?" Willis looked with indecision at the stone in his
hand.
"I ain' gwine tell yer nuthin' tell yer th'ows dat rock down an' gits fur
nuf fum 'Simmon Tree ter keep him fum lis'nin' ter whut I says, 'caze he
'memb'rs long time ergo whin all de trees wus waitin' ter see which one
gwine have de fines' crap er chillun. Early hyah in de spring, 'fo' Jack
Fros' go ter see Miss White Snow, Dandy Lion come peepin' out; all de
trees bowin' an' swingin' derse'fs erbout axin' de news 'bout der chillun.
Dandy Lion say, 'Don't yer heah lit'le Weepin' Will'r cryin' an' holl'rin'
ov'r yond'r now?' Sho' nuf dar she wus tellin' her ma 'bout lit'le Maple
Tree an' all uv 'em pushin' her out fus' ter see ef Jack Fros' fixin' ter
pack his trunk."
The stone slid noiselessly from Willis's hand, while Phyllis led the way
beyond the green persimmons.
"Did Jack Frost bite little Willow Tree?"
"He don't bite 'em less'n dey gits hard-haid'd an' sassy him. But hyah
come lit'le Aspin, an' lit'le Sugar Maple, an' dey says Lit'le 'Simmon
Tree an' de res' uv de tree chillun is reddy ter come, soon es ole Unk'
Sun warm up de room fur 'em er lit'le. Bimeby, all uv 'em gits der haids
an' hands out, 'cep'n Pine Tree chile. Ev'ybody axin' Miss Vilet, an' Miss
Honey-suckle an' all uv 'em wharbouts Pine Tree chile wus at. Pres'ntly
ole Tall Pine say, he do: 'Jes' 'ten' ter yer own biznes', my boy know
whut he doin'. He ain' gwine come up hyah rippin' an' tar'in' 'roun', an'
den hatt'r stan' dar an' die in his tracks. Whin enny er my fambly comes
up in de woods, dey comes ter stay,' sez he: 'De res' er you all goes off
in de winter time, but me an' my fokes stays right hyah; darfo', I done
lernt my chillun ter git er good start 'fo' dey comes thu!'
"I tell yer, Pine Tree chile wus workin' hard ter tap wat'r so he kin keep
up wid de res' er de trees atter he jines de woods."
"How can he tap water?" interrupted Willis.
"Dey taps hit wid der roots. Sometimes er pine tree whut ain't no big'r'n
my han' is got roots fifteen foots long. An' I tell yer Pine Tree tellin'
de trufe, his boy know der fambly bleege ter have wat'r ter live on, an'
he ain't gwine take no stan' in dis woel he know he can't keep up wid. De
trees dey talks 'bout him mouty bad at fus', but he don't pay no 'tenshun
ter 'em, he jes' mine his own biznes', an' bimeby he git big 'nuf ter
look on de top uv all 'em."
"Did he look down on the top of Mist'r Wise Oak?" broke in Willis.
"Tall Pine so high an' straight hisse'f, he ain't thinkin' 'bout de top er
nobody's haid. He know Mist'r Wise Oak's de big'es' man on Tinker Knob an'
he proud ter keep comp'ny wid him."
"Who was running against Wise Oak?" the race for mayor still lingering in
his mind.
"Well, son, dar wus er heap uv 'em dat want ter git in, but dey can't git
nobody ter put 'em up. Lombody Poplar ax Holl'r Tree ter put him up, but
Holl'r Tree tell him ter look at hisse'f, an' see how fokes 'ud t'ar him
ter pieces. He say he dunno howcum.
"Holl'r Tree say, 'Whut's you done ter make fokes vote fur you? You doan
give no fruit, an' you too stingy ter eb'n stretch yer arms out an' make
shade fur ennybody.'
"Lombody say, 'Yer doan want me ter spile m' shape does yer?'
"Holl'r Tree say, 'Dat's hit. You thinks too much 'bout yer own se'f ter
serve de woods.' But I ain' got time ter tell yer all whut de trees talks
erbout. I jes' wanter tell yer 'bout whut Mist'r bad 'Simmon Tree got.
"Whin he wus er lit'le boy tree, he all de time bein' hard-haided an'
makin' fusses twixt de trees er de beastes er enybody dat 'ud lis'n ter
him. His ma whoop him er heap 'bout tellin' tales, an' meddlin' in fokes'
'fars, but ev'y time Bob Win' come thu de woods 'Simmon Tree'd lean way
down ter de groun' totin' tales ter sumbody. One time Mist'r Brindle Cow
come walkin' long thu de woods, huntin' fur some nice lit'le chaws er
wile flow'rs, an' 'Simmon Tree hol'r fur him ter come set down an' talk
ter him. Mister Brindle say he ain' got no time ter fool wid chillun. Wid
dat 'Simmon Tree holl'r back: 'Yer bet'r take time, 'caze ev'y body know
you done bin runn'd out'n de pastur'.' Whoopee! Mist'r Brindle Cow give er
jump an' lan' hisse'f 'pon top er dat sassy little tree, an' I tell yer he
nuv'r lef' dar tell he had tromp 'Simmon Tree clean down ter de groun'.
Den he curl his tail in de air an' go bellerin' back ter de pastur'.
"'Simmon Tree sorter raise up one fing'r, den he lif' his haid up er
lit'le bit, but he hurt so bad near 'bout his foots dat he cry an' beg
sumbody ter please hope him up.
"Jes' den Mist'r Man an' his lit'le boy come ridin' thu dar on Miss Race
Hoss. Mist'r Man stop, he do, an' say, 'Look at dat nice lit'le 'Simmon
Tree sumbody done tromp'd down. I'm gwine tie hit up an' give hit er
chanct,' sez he. So him an' de lit'le boy liftes hit up, an' 'Simmon Tree
holl'r, 'Oh! Lawdy! yer's killin' me,' but dey ties him up an' put sticks
up 'ginst him ter keep him fum fallin' down, an' 'tain' long 'fo' de hu't
part wus kur'd tergeth'r fine, an', by de time he wus grow'd up, nobody
cud tell he ev'r wus er bad lit'le boy dat mos' got kilt by his badness.
Oh, he wus er starchy lookin' tree I tell yer. Look like he wus de fines'
lookin' uv all de tree chillun."
"One day Bob Win' put on his fine linnin duster an' he come er projeckin'
an' frolickin' 'roun' de Reed gals down in de Cane Break. Dey has er heap
er fun, I tell yer. Bob allus crackin' his jokes ter 'em tell dey mos'
die fallin' 'ginst one nuth'r laffin'.
"'Simmon Tree git so mad 'caze he can't fly 'roun' an' projeck wid de gals
like Bob, dat he 'fuse ter speak ter Bob's howdy. Bob he sorter laf an'
flutt'r 'Simmon Tree's leaves back'ards. 'Simmon Tree git mad es fire den,
an' he tell him ter 'clar out!'
"He say, 'You does er heap er braggin' an' blusterin' in dese parts Bob
Win', but I ain' nuv'r seed nuthin' in yer but bad mann'rs.'
"Bob say, 'I see yer done forgit de les'n Brer Brindle Cow learnt yer whin
you wus lit'le.'
"'Simmon Tree say, 'I ain' skeer'd er all de Mist'r Cows in de pastur',
an' you th'ow'd in ter boot. You ain' nuthin' but er win' bag ennyhow.'
"Bob Win' say, 'Git reddy, suh, we gwine proof whose de bes' man 'fo'
sundown.'
"Bob go ax his pa, ole man Harricane, ter loan him his cyarpet bag, he
tell him he want ter take sum fightin' close 'long on er trip he gwine on
thu de woods. Ole Kerlum-bang Thunder say he gwine 'long ter see de fun.
Po'-Down Rain say he gwine too, but Bob tell 'em he doan want nobody ter
hope him.
"Po'-Down Rain says he ain' gwine hope nobody, he say, 'Mist'r Wise Oak
sont fur me er mont' ergo, an' I ain' had time ter go yit, but I'm gwine
now, 'caze I wants ter see you whin you tu'ns yose'f loose.'
"Ole Kerlum-bang Thund'r say, 'I ain' gwine hu't nobody, I'm jes' gwina
shoot off er few fier wurks, an' rat'le 'roun' er lit'le.'
"Bob see he can' do nuthin' wid 'em, so he start off. Fus' he come sorter
sof' whrrrrrrrr, whuuuuuuuu. All de trees lafs an' howdy's ter one nuth'r
'cep' 'Simmon Tree. He 'fuse ter russ'le so much es er leaf. Bob come
Brrrrrrrrr, sorter strong like, de leaves on de groun' try ter hop up an'
cap'r wid dem on de trees, an' de Reed gals wus jes' laffin' an' th'owin'
derse'fs erbout scand'lous. 'Simmon Tree ain' flutt'r er leaf, 'cep'n whin
he bleeg'd ter. Bob Win' come Brrrrrrrr, Whrrrrrrrr, Brrrrr, Brrrrrrrr,
Whrrrrrr, Zuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzuzzzzzzzzzz, whoopee! I tell yer he's
comin' now! He rip an' t'ar, he do, ringin' an' twistin' ev'ything dat
gits in his way. Ole Kerlum-bang Thunder give er clap an' tetch off er
fier crack'r dat skeer de Cane Break fokes mouty nigh ter death. Po'-Down
Rain come right 'long b'hime him. He wet dem woods mouty nigh ter flood
times. Ole Kerlum-bang drop his chunk er fier on a passel er big
fier-crackers, an'--"
"And Roman candles, and sky rockets!" added Willis.
"Yas, an' de fus' thing you knows Bob Win' had done swep' up dat groun'
b'fo' him clean es yo' ma's parler floor. He step up ter 'Simmon Tree an'
ax him ef he got ennything ter take back.
"'Simmon Tree say, 'I done tole yer I ain' gwina pass wurds wid no sich er
blow hard es you is.'
"Bob Win' grab him 'roun 'de trunk, he do, an' give er good twis' on his
haid, but dat nuv'r done no harm, an' 'Simmon Tree hit him back es good es
he sen'. Bob take him by de arms an' twis' wid all his might, but 'Simmon
Tree laff in his face, an' twis' back at him. Den Bob give er runnin'
jump an' wrop hisse'f 'long 'bout 'Simmon's foots. Well, suh, dat een' de
fight. Bob hit him in de weak part, an' 'Simmon Tree broke an' come,
kerblum', an' splint'r'd hisse'f all ov'r de groun'."
"Mammy, I thought you said Mister Man cured him, so he was bigger and
stronger than all of the rest?" Mary Van had a good memory but Phyllis was
ever ready to answer the interruption.
"Aha, aha, you 'members dat does yer? An' dat's jes' whut he wus--mo'
finer'n all uv 'em 'cep'n in dat weak place his hard haid make, whin he
wus er lit'le bit'r tree. An' er gal er boy"--she looked earnestly into
each face--"kin be sassy an' hard-haid'd whin dey's lit'le, an' whin dey
gits grow'd up an' 'gins ter rass'lin' wid triberlations, de ve'y fus'
fight dey gits in, dat weak bad, hard-haided place gwine give way fus',
an' dey'll splinter all ter pieces jes' like 'Simmon Tree done."
"Can Bob Wind whip all the trees?"
"He sho' kin, son, dat is, enny uv 'em dat's so big'rty an' hard-haid'd
dey can't lis'n ter nobody. I tell yer dar's er plenty er Bob Win's ter
whoop all de biggerty hard-haids 'mongst de men fokes, too."
"I bet there isn't any Bob Wind that can whip my papa."
"No, my Lawd, dat dey ain't," she laughed softly, then added: "Howcum you
reck'n yo' pa come ter be sich er big man?" she stopped to hear his
answer.
"Cause he's my papa," defended the child.
"'Tain't no sich er thing. Plenty fokes gots papa's 'sides you. Hit's
'caze he got de bignes' ter mine whut his ole lady say ter him ev'y onct
in erwhile. Come 'long, we ain' gwine git er Lawd's bit er dinn'r ef we
doan git out er dese hyah woods."
XI
BIG EYE BUZZARD
"Mammy, less go up to Jim Weed's house, he's going to give me one of his
buzzard eggs." Willis was halfway to the gate.
"Come back hyah, boy,--I ain' gwine stirry er step fum dis hyah tree tell
I churns dis milk fur Kitty, an' ennyhow yond'r come comp'ny ter see yer,"
she nodded towards Mary Van, who was tip-toeing to unfasten the gate.
"'Tain't anybody but Mary Van, and she can go, too."
"Where, Willis?" and the little girl ran past him to the joggling board[1]
near Phyllis; "Put me up, Mammy!"
[1] Joggling-board.--A long, springy board about three feet from the
ground, made fast at each end, and so arranged that children may jump
up and down, or joggle on it.
Phyllis dropped the churn top in place and went to the assistance of Mary
Van. "Come on, son," she called over her shoulder, "an' let dem buzzard
aigs hatch right whar dey is, 'caze de Lawd knows dey's in de right nes'."
"Jim Weed's er nice boy," resented Willis, refusing to come.
"He ain' nuthin' but po' white trash." She stood with her arms akimbo,
waiting to lift him beside Mary Van. "Come on, an' hole Ma'y Van's han' so
bofe uv yer kin stay on de bo'rd whin yer joggles."
"He's not poor white trash," exclaimed Willis hotly, "he's got a pigeon
house, and a dog house, and a bird house, and a--"
"I doan keer how minny houses he got, an' I doan keer how much money he
got neeth'r--he ain' nuthin' in dis woel but po' trash," she announced
with a sweeping bow, then added to Mary Van, as she returned to the churn:
"Set down on de bo'rd, honey, tell Willis git reddy ter stan' up an' jump
wid you. He bleege ter cool off er while, fus', 'cose he know trashy fokes
got ter keep on bein' trashy, jes' like he know dat buzzard aig bleege ter
hatch out er buzzard; doan keer ef you puts hit in Lilly Dove's nes' er
way up yond'r in Jedge Eagle's nes', hit's boun' ter be er buzzard dat
pips dat aig shell."
Swishing the dasher up and down in the churn, she continued addressing
herself to Mary Van.
"Yas, Lawd, yer orter heah ole man Turkey Buzzard tell 'bout whin his boy,
Big Eye, turn hisse'f ter er eagle. Big Eye tell his pa he ti'ed
soshatin' wid de low down buzzards dat lives on Dead Man's Mountain, an'
he done make up his min' ter greeze his feath'rs an' shave de top er his
haid like de ball eagle, an' move ov'r ter Tinker Knob whar de fus' class
birds lives at."
"Mammy, I thought buzzards were bald anyhow," said Willis coming a step or
two nearer.
"'Cose dey bin ball ev'r sense Big Eye shave his haid.
"His pa say, 'Doan yer know soon es fokes heahs yer name, dey kin p'int
out yer fambly?'
"He tell his pa he gwine change his name ter Mist'r Mount'n Fowel, an'
tell de fokes he's kin ter Jedge Eagle's fambly, so he kin git vit'd ter
de fine parties.
"His pa say, 'Fokes kin tell yo' buzzard lope' soon es you starts ter
dancin'.'
"He say he ain' gwine dance no 'buzzard lope,' dat he gwine 'cut de pigeon
wing.'
"His ma ax him, 'Whatchu gwine do 'bout marryin' yo' cousin Ashy Car'on
Crow?'
"He say he done fergit all 'bout dat ole black, warty head'd crow, dat he
gwine marry Miss Tishy Peafowel.
"His pa tell him he dunno nuthin' tall erbout dis new fangled way er
doin', dat he allus heahs de ole fokes say birds bett'r stick ter der own
fe'th'r.
"He stan' up an' sass his pa scan'lous, an' say jes' 'caze his fambly wus
buzzards, dat ain' no rees'n fur him ter be one. He say he mo' finer
lookin' dan dem. 'In fack,' sez he, 'I'm jes' like dem Eagle boys, an' I'm
gwine pass off fur one de fambly, too.'
"Ole lady Buzzard cry an' beg him ter stay at home; she say ef he jes'
make er man er hisse'f, he kin be de bigges' buzzard on Dead Man.
"He pat his ma on de back, an' laf' sorter gran' like an' say, ''Ooman
fokes am' got 'nuf sense ter 'vise in men fokes 'fars.' Den he flop his
wings an' come flyin' 'zackly like dem Eagle boys flies.
"Whin de birds on Tink'r seed him comin', dey 'gun ter pass jedgement
'bout who hit mout be. Sum says hit's one, sum says hit's ernuth'r, but
all uv 'em says one thing dey knows fur sartin an' sho,--'Tain' no ole
buzzard."
Willis had come slowly, step by step, until he had climbed up by Mary Van,
on the joggling board.
"Big Eye Buzzard sorter circle 'roun' lookin' fur er good place ter
light. Bimeby, he see Doct'r Peckerwood lancin' er bile on one dese tall
Pine trees, an' he start circlin' 'roun' de Pine tree. Atter while heah he
come an' light on de ve'y top'es lim'. Doct'r Peckerwood howdy sorter
short ter him, 'caze he bizzy tryin' ter keep de Pine tree fum moanin'
ov'r de bile, but er lit'le thing like dat doan both'r Big Eye, he up an'
spon', 'I'm feelin' poly m'se'f, an' I stop ter git sum med'cine, an' ax
Mist'r Tall Pine ef he kin spar' me er room.'
"Doct'r Peckerwood ax him wharbouts he hu't, an' wharbouts he come fum,
an' what's his name, an' whut he bin eatin'? Yer see Doct'r Peckerwood
want ter git sum news 'long wid de symptoms.
"Big Eye say, 'I'm tendin' ter sum biznes' fur m' Unkle Jedge Eagle, an' I
ain' eat nuthin' sense I lef' Mill Mount'in, whar de Eagleses lives at.'
"Doct'r Peck'rwood say, 'Surt'n'ly he heah fokes tell 'bout de great Jedge
Eagle, an' fur him ter stay right dar tell he git good an' well, 'caze he
know Mist'r Pine Tree ain' nuv'r had one er de Eagle fambly at his house
b'fo'.'
"Tall Pine say, 'I'm pow'ful po'ly m'sef, but hit 'ud make me proud ef yer
kin make yerse'f comf'bul, an' stay.'
"Oh, I tell yer, dem Tree Frogs an' Lizzarts 'buse Mist'r Mount'in Fowel
scan'lous. Dey sez he keep 'em runnin' ev'y which er way all de time, an'
he ain' give 'em so much es er ole par er shoes.
"Doct'r Peck'rwood g'long ov'r ter Miss Chicken Hawkes's ter give one de
chillun er dost er cast'r oil, an' he tell 'em dat de gentmun dey seed
wus Mist'r Mount'in Fowel, an' he wus kin ter Jedge Eagle. An' Polly
Parret wus spindin' de day wid Miss Chickin Hawk dat day, an' whin de
Doct'r g'long off, An' Polly make Miss Chicken Hawk fix up er nice chickin
fur her ter car'y up ter Big Eye. Miss Chickin Hawk want one er her gals
ter take de chickin, but An' Polly say dey too young ter be projickin'
'roun' whar gentmuns is at, but hit doan make no diffunce 'bout er ole
maid like her. Well, she car'd de chickin, an' she brung back de
news.--Big Eye stuff her so full, dat she can' hardly fly wid hit. She
come ter Miss Magpie's house, an' I tell yer dey wus jes' waitin' fur her.
Dey runs out ter meet her, an' she bile ov'r 'fo' she git in de house, an'
'fo' she git plum th'u, dem Magpie gals had done put on der fine close,
an' wus totin' dat news 'roun' like er gun wus b'hime 'em. Fokes sont him
fine vit'als ter eat, an' say soon es he git so es ter be erbout, dey
gwine 'vite him ter some parties.
"All dis time, Big Eye settin' up on dat lim' gorgin' hisse'f wid der fine
vit'als, an' mos' killin' hisse'f laffin' 'bout how fokes loves ter be
fool'd. He know hits 'bout time fur him ter be gittin' well, an' he set
an' studdy how he gwine git de money ter keep up wid de hifalutin' a'rs
dese fine fokes puts on. Long 'bout dat time, Sis' Cow's cousin take an'
die. Dey keeps her out er day er two, 'caze dey fixin' ter have er fine
fun'al. Big Eye git well soon es he heah 'bout dat dead cow. He flop his
wings an' fly back ter Dead Man's Mount'in, an' tell de buzzards he got er
fine piece er meat ter sell 'em cheap. Dey barg'ins right den an' dar
fur all de dead an'mals on Tink'r, an' Big Eye sign de corntrack part,
ef dey promise dey nuv'r is ter come on Tink'r ter git 'em, 'cep'n on de
dark er de moon."
[Illustration: "BIMEBY HE GIT AX'D TER BE ER PAWL B'ARER TER ALL UV 'EM."]
"Let 'em come in the daytime, Mammy, they can't see in the dark,"
suggested Willis.
"Big Eye know dey'd run him clean off'n Tinker Knob ef dem fokes see he
git his livin' off'n der mis'ry. Nex' day hyah he come flyin' back wid er
big bunch er fun'al flow'rs wid ribbin streamers flyin' ev'y which er way.
Fokes wint ter de fun'al jes' ter see de flow'rs. Ev'ybody talkin' 'bout
de gran'nes' er Mist'r Mount'in Fowel, an' how he 'tend all de berryin's,
doan keer who 'tis. An' bimeby he git ax'd ter be er pawl b'arer ter all
uv 'em.
"Miss Chickin Hawk give er party long 'bout den, an' Big Eye he act mouty
nice ter her gals, tell Mist'r Turkey Gobl'r 'vite him ter his house, den
he fergit he ev'r heah tell er de Chicken Hawkeses. He runnin' ev'y minite
ter Mist'r Turkey Gobl'rs house, makin' like he wus dancin' 'tendance on
Mandy Gobl'r, an' all he wanter do is ter git er peep at Tishy Peafowel
dat live nex' do'. Oh, I tell yer he talk purty talk ter Mandy, but he
cas' dem sheep eyes at Tish. Bimeby, Mandy, she pass Big Eye de
'quaintance uv Tishy ov'r de fence, an' hit 'tain't long 'fo' Big Eye gits
er invite ov'r ter Majer Peafowel's. Whin dat hap'n, hit look like he done
fergit wharbouts Mandy live, an' po' Mandy she look out de wind'r an' see
Big Eye an' Tishy sashain' in de yard, lovin' harder'n er mule kin kick.
"Majer Peafowel say he want Tishy ter mar'y Johnny Squinch Owel, 'caze
he's de bigges' lawyer on Tinker. But Tishy say he too ugly ter look at,
let lone ter mar'y.
"Johnny Squinch ain' sayin' nuthin', he jes' keepin' er lookout fur Big
Eye. He see Big Eye go out sumwhars ev'y dark er de moon, an' he low he
gwine fol'r 'im an' see whut he do. 'Caze yer knows de dark'r hit gits, de
bet'rer Squinch Owels kin see."
"How can he see in the dark?"
"I dunno how 'tis, Ma'y Van, but de Lawd fixes owels eyes so dey kin 'ten'
ter der night biznes', an' whin fokes gits ter lovin' an' gits in er tight
place like Johnny Squinch wus, de Lawd fixes der eyes so dey kin see th'u
de dark an' ev'y which er way, too. One night on de dark er de moon, Big
Eye start out ter meet de buzzards. He got fo' hosses, an' two cows, an'
er pass'l er birds. Big Eye, he wus jes' er takin' in de money I tell
yer. He can't see hit, but he kin feel uv hit, an' he know dey darsn't ter
cheat him. But Johnny Squinch settin' up on er lim' jes' ov'r his
haid,--he kin count de money, yassuh, ev'y cent uv hit, too. Dey ain' no
eyes kin see like Johnny Squinch's, 'speshally whin dey's lovin'. De nex'
day, Majer Peafowel fly up ter Pine Tree Holl'r ter see Mist'r Mount'in
Fowel 'bout whut Johnny tell him."
"Mammy, could Major Peafowl fly up to the top of Mister Tall Pine?" asked
Mary Van in amazement.
"Who sed he fly up ter de top? I sed he wint up ter de Pine Tree Holl'r.
De Majer ain' gwine bus' in nobody's room les'n he sen' his cyard up
fus',--an' how you know dey ain' got one dem ellumvat'rs like de new hotel
got?"
"Oh!" apologetically, she exclaimed.