“En down ter dis day”—continued
Uncle Remus, watching the smoke from his pipe curl
upward over the little boy’s head—“down
ter dis day, Brer Possum’s bound ter s’render
w’en you tech him in de short ribs, en he’ll
laugh ef he knows he’s gwineter be smashed fer
it.”
“Uncle remus,” said the little
boy one evening, when he had found the old man with
little or nothing to do, “did the fox kill and
eat the rabbit when he caught him with the Tar-Baby?”
“Law, honey, ain’t I tell you ’bout
dat?” replied the old darkey, chuckling slyly.
“I ’clar ter grashus I ought er tole you
dat, but old man Nod wuz ridin’ on my eyeleds
’twel a leetle mo’n I’d a dis’member’d
my own name, en den on to dat here come yo mammy hollerin’
atter you.
“W’at I tell you w’en I fus’
begin? I tole you Brer Rabbit wuz a monstus soon
creetur; leas’ways dat’s w’at I laid
out fer ter tell you. Well, den, honey, don’t
you go en make no udder calkalashuns, kaze in dem
days Brer Rabbit en his fambly wuz at de head er de
gang w’en enny racket wuz on han’, en dar
dey stayed. ‘Fo’ you begins fer ter
wipe yo’ eyes ’bout Brer Rabbit, you wait
en see whar’bouts Brer Rabbit gwineter fetch
up at. But dat’s needer yer ner dar.
“W’en Brer Fox fine Brer Rabbit mixt up
wid de Tar-Baby, he feel mighty good, en he roll on
de groun’ en laff. Bimeby he up’n
say, sezee:
“’Well, I speck I got you dis time, Brer
Rabbit, sezee; ’maybe I ain’t, but I speck
I is. You been runnin’ roun’ here
sassin’ atter me a mighty long time, but I speck
you done come ter de een’ er de row. You
bin cuttin’ up yo’ capers en bouncin’’roun’
in dis neighberhood ontwel you come ter b’leeve
yo’se’f de boss er de whole gang.
En den you er allers somers whar you got no bizness,’
sez Brer Fox, sezee. ’Who ax you fer ter
come en strike up a ’quaintance wid dish yer
Tar-Baby? En who stuck you up dar whar you iz?
Nobody in de roun’ worl’. You des
tuck en jam yo’se’f on dat Tar-Baby widout
waitin’ fer enny invite,’ sez Brer Fox,
sezee, en dar you is, en dar you’ll stay twel
I fixes up a bresh-pile and fires her up, kaze I’m
gwineter bobby-cue you dis day, sho,’ sez Brer
Fox, sezee.
“Den Brer Rabbit talk mighty ’umble.
“‘I don’t keer w’at you do
wid me, Brer Fox,’ sezee, ’so you don’t
fling me in dat brier-patch. Roas’ me, Brer
Fox’ sezee, ‘but don’t fling me
in dat brierpatch,’ sezee.
“‘Hit’s so much trouble fer ter
kindle a fier,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘dat
I speck I’ll hatter hang you,’ sezee.
“‘Hang me des ez high as you please, Brer
Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’but do
fer de Lord’s sake don’t fling me in dat
brier-patch,’ sezee.
“‘I ain’t got no string,’
sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’en now I speck I’ll
hatter drown you,’ sezee.
“‘Drown me des ez deep ez you please,
Brer Fox,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘but
do don’t fling me in dat brier-patch,’
sezee.
