Uncle Remus Stories

by Joel Chandler Harris

VI.

  MR. RABBIT GROSSLY

  DECEIVES MR. FOX.

  O ne evening when the little boy, whose nights with Uncle Remus are as entertaining as those Arabian ones of blessed memory, had finished supper and hurried out to sit with his venerable patron, he found the old man in great glee. Indeed, Uncle Remus was talking and laughing to himself at such a rate that the little boy was afraid he had company. The truth is, Uncle Remus had heard the child coming, and, when the rosy-cheeked chap put his head in at the door, was engaged in a monologue, the burden of which seemed to be —

  “Ole Molly Har’,

  W’at you doin’ dar,

  Settin’ in de cornder

  Smokin’ yo’ seegyar?”

  As a matter of course this vague allusion reminded the little boy of the fact that the wicked Fox was still in pursuit of the Rabbit, and he immediately put his curiosity in the shape of a question.

  “Uncle Remus, did the Rabbit have to go clean away when he got loose from the Tar-Baby?”

  “Bless grashus, honey, dat he didn’t. Who? Him? You dunno nuthin’ ‘tall ‘bout Brer Rabbit ef dat’s de way you puttin’ ‘im down. W’at he gwine ‘way fer? He mouter stayed sorter close twel de pitch rub off’n his ha’r, but twern’t menny days ‘fo’ he wuz lopin’ up en down de naberhood same ez ever, en I dunno ef he wern’t mo’ sassier dan befo’.

  “Seem like dat de tale ‘bout how he got mixt up wid de Tar-Baby got ‘roun’ ‘mongst de nabers. Leas’ways, Miss Meadows en de gals got win’ un’ it, en de nex’ time Brer Rabbit paid um a visit Miss Meadows tackled ‘im ‘bout it, en de gals sot up a monstus gigglement. Brer Rabbit, he sot up des ez cool ez a cowcumber, he did, en let ‘em run on.”

  “Who was Miss Meadows, Uncle Remus?” inquired the little boy.

  “Don’t ax me, honey. She wuz in de tale, Miss Meadows en de gals wuz, en de tale I give you like hi’t wer’ gun ter me. Brer Rabbit, he sot dar, he did, sorter lam’ like, en den bimeby he cross his legs, he did, and wink his eye slow, en up en say, sezee: “’Ladies, Brer Fox wuz my daddy’s ridin’-hoss fer thirty year; maybe mo’, but thirty year dat I knows un,’ sezee; en den he paid um his ‘specks, en tip his beaver, en march off, he did, des ez stiffen ez stuck up ez a firestick.

  “Nex’ day, Brer Fox cum a callin’, and w’en he gun fer ter laff ‘bout Brer Rabbit, Miss Meadows en de gals, dey ups en tells ‘im ‘bout w’at Brer Rabbit say. Den Brer Fox grit his toof sho’ nuff, he did, en he look mighty dumpy, but w’en he riz fer ter go he up en say, sezee:

  “’Ladies, I ain’t ‘sputin’ w’at you say, but I’ll make Brer Rabbit chaw up his words en spit um out right yer whar you kin see ‘im,’ sezee, en wid dat off Brer Fox marcht.

  “En w’en he got in de big road, he shuck de dew off’n his tail, en made a straight shoot for Brer Rabbit’s house. W’en he got dar, Brer Rabbit wuz spectin’ un ‘im, en de do’ wuz shet fas’. Brer Fox knock. Nobody ain’t ans’er. Brer Fox knock. Nobody ans’er. Den he knock agin — blam! blam! Den Brer Rabbit holler out mighty weak:

  “’Is dat you, Brer Fox? I want you ter run en fetch de doctor. Dat bait er pusly w’at I e’t dis mawnin’ is gittin’ ‘way wid me. Do, please, Brer Fox, run quick,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

  “’I come after you, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. ‘Dere’s gwineter be a party up at Miss Meadows’s,’ sezee. ‘All de gals ‘ll be dere, en I promus’ dat I’d fetch you. De gals, dey ‘lowed dat hit wouldn’t be no party ‘ceppin’ I fotch you,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

  “Den Brer Rabbit say he wuz too sick, en Brer Fox say he wuzzent, en dar dey had it up and down, ‘sputin’ en contendin’. Brer Rabbit say he can’t walk. Brer Fox say he tote ‘im. Brer Rabbit say how? Brer Fox say in his arms. Brer Rabbit say he drap ‘im. Brer Fox ‘low he won’t. Bimeby Brer Rabbit say he go ef Brer Fox tote ‘im on his back. Brer Fox say he would. Brer Rabbit say he can’t ride widout a saddle. Brer Fox say he git de saddle. Brer Rabbit say he can’t set in saddle less he have bridle fer ter hol’ by. Brer Fox say he git de bridle. Brer Rabbit say he can’t ride widout bline bridle, kaze Brer Fox be shyin’ at stumps ‘long de road, en fling ‘im off. Brer Fox say he git bline bridle. Den Brer Rabbit say he go. Den Brer Fox say he ride Brer Rabbit mos’ up ter Miss Meadows’s, en den he could git down en walk de balance er de way. Brer Rabbit ‘greed, en den Brer Fox lipt out atter de saddle en de bridle.

  “Co’se Brer Rabbit know de game dat Brer Fox wuz fixin’ fer ter play, en he ‘termin’ fer ter outdo ‘im, en by de time he koam his ha’r en twis’ his mustarsh, en sorter rig up, yer come Brer Fox, saddle en bridle on, en lookin’ ez peart ez a circus pony. He trot up ter de do’ en stan’ dar pawin’ de ground en chompin’ de bit same like sho ‘nuff hoss, en Brer Rabbit he mount, he did, en dey amble off. Brer Fox can’t see behime wid de bline bridle on, but bimeby he feel Brer Rabbit raise one er his foots.

  “’W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ sezee.

  “’Short’nin’ de lef stir’p, Brer Fox,’ sezee.

  “Bimeby Brer Rabbit raise up de udder foot.

  “’W’at you doin’ now, Brer Rabbit?’ sezee.

  “’Pullin’ down my pants, Brer Fox,’ sezee.

  “All de time, bless grashus, honey, Brer Rabbit wer puttin’ on his spurrers, en w’en dey got close to Miss Meadows’s, whar Brer Rabbit wuz to git off, en Brer Fox made a motion fer ter stan’ still, Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers into Brer Fox flanks, en you better b’leeve he got over groun’. W’en dey got ter de house, Miss Meadows en all de gals wuz settin’ on de peazzer, en stidder stoppin’ at de gate, Brer Rabbit rid on by, he did, en den come gallopin’ down de road en up ter de hossrack, w’ich he hitch Brer Fox at, en den he santer into de house, he did, en shake han’s wid de gals, en set dar, smokin’ his seegyar same ez a town man. Bimeby he draw in long puff, en den let hit out in a cloud, en squar hisse’f back en holler out, he did:

  “’Ladies, ain’t I done tell you Brer Fox wuz de ridin’-hoss fer our fambly? He sorter losin’ his gait’ now, but I speck I kin fetch ‘im all right in a mont’ er so,’ sezee.

  “En den Brer Rabbit sorter grin, he did, en de gals giggle, en Miss Meadows, she praise up de pony, en dar wuz Brer Fox hitch fas’ ter de rack, en couldn’t he’p hisse’f.”

  “Is that all, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy as the old man paused.

  “Dat ain’t all, honey, but ‘twon’t do fer ter give out too much cloff fer ter cut one pa’r pants,” replied the old man sententiously.

  VII.

  MR. FOX IS

  AGAIN VICTIMIZED.

  W hen “Miss Sally’s” little boy went to Uncle Remus the next night to hear the conclusion of the adventure in which the Rabbit made a riding-horse of the Fox to the great enjoyment and gratification of Miss Meadows and the girls, he found the old man in a bad humor.

  “I ain’t tellin’ no tales ter bad chilluns,” said Uncle Remus curtly.

  “But, Uncle Remus, I ain’t bad,” said the little boy plaintively.

  “Who dat chunkin’ dem chickens dis mawnin’? Who dat knockin’ out fokes’s eyes wid dat Yallerbammer sling des ‘fo’ dinner? Who dat sickin’ dat pointer puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin’ my ingun sets? Who dat flingin’ rocks on top er my house, w’ich a little mo’ en one un em would er drap spang on my head?”

  “Well, now, Uncle Remus, I didn’t go to do it. I won’t do so any more. Please, Uncle Remus, if you will tell me, I’ll run to the house and bring you some teacakes.”

  “Seein’ um’s better’n hearin’ tell un um,” replied the old man, the severity of his countenance relaxing somewhat; but the little boy darted out, and in a few minutes came running back with his pockets full and his hands full.

  “I lay yo’ mammy ‘ll ‘spishun dat de rats’ stummucks is widenin’ in dis naberhood w’en she come fer te
r count up ‘er cakes,” said Uncle Remus, with a chuckle. “Deze,” he continued, dividing the cakes into two equal parts — “deze I’ll tackle now, en deze I’ll lay by fer Sunday.

  “Lemme see. I mos’ dis’member wharbouts Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit wuz.”

  ‘The rabbit rode the fox to Miss Meadows’s, and hitched him to the horse-rack,” said the little boy.

  “W’y co’se he did,” said Uncle Remus. “Co’se he did. Well, Brer Rabbit rid Brer Fox up, he did, en tied ‘im to de rack, en den sot out in de peazzer wid de gals a smokin’ er his seegyar wid mo’ proudness dan wa’t you mos’ ever see. Dey talk, en dey sing, en dey play on de peanner, de gals did, twel bimeby hit come time fer Brer Rabbit fer to be gwine, en he tell um all good-by, en strut out to de hoss-rack same’s ef he wuz de king er de patter-rollers,1 en den he mount Brer Fox en ride off.

  “Brer Fox ain’t sayin’ nuthin ‘tall. He des rack off, he did, en keep his mouf shet, en Brer Rabbit know’d der wuz bizness cookin’ up fer him, en he feel monstus skittish. Brer Fox amble on twel he git in de long lane, outer sight er Miss Meadows’s house, en den he tu’n loose, he did. He rip en he r’ar, en he cuss, en he swar; he snort en he cavort.”

  “What was he doing that for, Uncle Remus?” the little boy inquired.

  “He wuz tryin’ fer ter fling Brer Rabbit off’n his back, bless yo’ soul! But he des might ez well er rastle wid his own shadder. Every time he hump hisse’f Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers in ‘im, en dar dey had it, up en down. Brer Fox fa’rly to’ up de groun’, he did, en he jump so high en he jump so quick dat he mighty nigh snatch his own tail off. Dey kep’ on gwine on dis way twel bimeby Brer Fox lay down en roll over, he did, en dis sorter onsettle Brer Rabbit, but by de time Brer Fox got back on his footses agin, Brer Rabbit wuz gwine thoo de underbresh mo’ samer dan a race-hoss. Brer Fox he lit out atter ‘im, he did, en he push Brer Rabbit so close dat it wuz ‘bout all he could do fer ter git in a holler tree. Hole too little fer Brer Fox fer ter git in, en he hatter lay down en res’ en gedder his mine tergedder.

  “While he wuz layin’ dar, Mr. Buzzard come floppin’ long, en seein’ Brer Fox stretch out on de groun’, he lit en view de premusses. Den Mr. Buzzard sorter shake his wing, en put his head on one side, en say to hisse’f like, sezee:

  “’Brer Fox dead, en I so sorry,’ sezee.

  “’No I ain’t dead, nudder,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. ‘I got ole man Rabbit pent up in yer,’ sezee, ‘en I’m a gwineter git ‘im dis time ef it take twel Chris’mus,’ sezee.

  “Den, atter some mo’ palaver, Brer Fox make a bargain dat Mr. Buzzard wuz ter watch de hole, en keep Brer Rabbit dar wiles Brer Fox went atter his axe. Den Brer Fox, he lope off, he did, en Mr. Buzzard, he tuck up his stan’ at de hole. Bimeby, w’en all git still, Brer Rabbit sorter scramble down close ter de hole, he did, en holler out:

  “’Brer Fox! Oh! Brer Fox!’

  “Brer Fox done gone, en nobody say nuthin’. Den Brer Rabbit squall out like he wuz mad; sezee:

  “’You needn’t talk less you wanter,’ sezee; ‘I knows your dar, en I ain’t keerin’,’ sezee. ‘I des wanter tell you dat I wish mighty bad Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz here,’ sezee.

  “Den Mr. Buzzard try ter talk like Brer Fox:

  “’W’at you want wid Mr. Buzzard?’ sezee.

  “’Oh, nuthin’ in ‘tickler, ‘cep’ dere’s de fattes’ gray squir’l in yer dat ever I see,’ sezee, ‘en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz ‘roun’ he’d be mighty glad fer ter git ‘im,’ sezee.

  “’How Mr. Buzzard gwine ter git ‘im?’ sez de Buzzard, sezee.

  “’Well, dars a little hole roun’ on de udder side er de tree,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en ef Brer Tukkey Buzzard wuz here so he could take up his stan’ dar,’ sezee, ‘I’d drive dat squir’l out,’ sezee.

  “’Drive ‘im out, den,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee, ‘en I’ll see dat Brer Tukkey Buzzard gits ‘im,’ sezee.

  “Den Brer Rabbit kick up a racket, like he wer’ drivin’ sumpin’ out, en Mr. Buzzard he rush ‘roun’ fer ter ketch de squir’l, en Brer Rabbit, he dash out, he did, en he des fly fer home.”

  At this point Uncle Remus took one of the tea-cakes, held his head back, opened his mouth, dropped the cake in with a sudden motion, looked at the little boy with an expression of astonishment, and then closed his eyes, and began to chew, mumbling as an accompaniment the plaintive tune of “Don’t you Grieve atter Me.”

  The séance was over; but, before the little boy went into the “big house,” Uncle Remus laid his rough hand tenderly on the child’s shoulder, and remarked, in a confidential tone:

  “Honey, you mus’ git up soon Chris’mus mawnin’ en open de do’; kase I’m gwineter bounce in on Marse John en Miss Sally, en holler Chris’mus gif’ des like I useter endurin’ de fahmin’ days fo’ de war, w’en old Miss wuz ‘live. I boun’ dey don’t fergit de ole nigger, nudder. W’en you hear me callin’ de pigs, honey, you des hop up en onfassen de do’. I lay I’ll give Marse John wunner deze yer ‘sprize parties.”

  1 Patrols. In the country districts, order was kept on the plantations at night by the knowledge that they were liable to be visited at any moment by the patrols. Hence a song current among the negroes, the chorus of which was:

  “Run, nigger, run; patter-roller ketch you —

  Run, nigger, run; hit’s almos’ day.”

  VIII.

  MR. FOX IS “OUTDONE”

  BY MR. BUZZARD.

  “Ef I don’t run inter no mistakes,” remarked Uncle Remus, as the little boy came tripping in to see him after supper, “Mr. Tukkey Buzzard wuz gyardin’ de holler whar Brer Rabbit went in at, en w’ich he come out un.”

  The silence of the little boy verified the old man’s recollection.

  “Well, Mr. Buzzard, he feel mighty lonesome, he did, but he done prommust Brer Fox dat he’d stay, en he ‘termin’ fer ter sorter hang ‘roun’ en jine in de joke. En he ain’t hatter wait long, nudder, kase bimeby yer come Brer Fox gallopin’ thoo de woods wid his axe on his shoulder.

  “’How you speck Brer Rabbit gittin’ on, Brer Buzzard?’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.

  “’Oh, he in dar,’ sez Brer Buzzard, sezee. ‘He mighty still, dough. I speck he takin’ a nap,’ sezee.

  “’Den I’m des in time fer ter wake ‘im up,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. En wid dat he fling off his coat, en spit in his han’s, en grab de axe. Den he draw back en come down on de tree — pow! En eve’y time he come down wid de axe — pow! — Mr. Buzzard, he step high, he did, en holler out:

  “’Oh, he in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho.’

  “En eve’y time a chip ud fly off, Mr. Buzzard, he’d jump, en dodge, en hole his head sideways, he would, en holler:

  “’He in dar, Brer Fox. I done heerd ‘im. He in dar, sho.’

  “En Brer Fox, he lammed away at dat holler tree, he did, like a man maulin’ rails, twel bimeby, atter he done got de tree mos’ cut thoo, he stop fer ter ketch his bref, en he seed Mr. Buzzard laffin’ behime his back, he did, en right den en dar, widout gwine enny fudder, Brer Fox, he smelt a rat. But Mr. Buzzard, he keep on holler’n:

  “’He in dar, Brer Fox. He in dar, sho. I done seed ‘im.’

  “Den Brer Fox, he make like he peepin’ up de holler, en he say, sezee:

  “’Run yer, Brer Buzzard, en look ef dis ain’t Brer Rabbit’s foot hanging down yer.’

  “En Mr. Buzzard, he come steppin’ up, he did, same ez ef he wer treddin’ on kurkle-burrs, en he stick his head in de hole; en no sooner did he done dat dan Brer Fox grab ‘im. Mr. Buzzard flap his wings, en scramble ‘roun’ right smartually, he did, but ‘twant no use. Brer Fox had de ‘vantage er de grip, he did, en he hilt ‘im right down ter de groun’. Den Mr. Buzzard squall out, sezee:

  “’Lemme ‘lone, Brer Fox. Tu’n me loose,’ sezee; ‘Brer Rabbit’ll git out. Youer gittin’ close at ‘im,’ sezee, ‘en leb’m mo ‘licks’
ll fetch ‘im,’ sezee.

  “’I’m nigher ter you, Brer Buzzard,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘dan I’ll be ter Brer Rabbit dis day,’ sezee. ‘W’at you fool me fer?’ sezee.

  “’Lemme ‘lone, Brer Fox,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee; ‘my ole ‘oman waitin’ fer me. Brer Rabbit in dar,’ sezee.

  “’Dar’s a bunch er his fur on dat black-be’y bush,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘en dat ain’t de way he come,’ sezee.

  “Den Mr. Buzzard up’n tell Brer Fox how ‘twuz, en he low’d, Mr. Buzzard did, dat Brer Rabbit wuz de lowdownest w’atsizname w’at he ever run up wid. Den Brer Fox say, sezee:

  “’Dat’s needer here ner dar, Brer Buzzard,’ sezee. ‘I lef’ you yer fer ter watch dish yer hole, en I lef’ Brer Rabbit in dar. I comes back en I fines you at de hole en Brer Rabbit ain’t in dar,’ sezee. ‘I’m gwineter make you pay fer’t. I done bin tampered wid twel plum’ down ter de sap sucker’ll set on a log en sassy me. I’m gwineter fling you in a bresh-heap en burn you up,’ sezee.

  “’Ef you fling me on der fier, Brer Fox, I’ll fly ‘way,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee.

  “’Well, den, I’ll settle yo’ hash right now,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, en wid dat he grab Mr. Buzzard by de tail, he did, en make fer ter dash ‘im ‘gin de groun’, but des ‘bout dat time de tail fedders come out, en Mr. Buzzard sail off like wunner dese yer berloons; en ez he riz, he holler back:

  “’You gimme good start, Brer Fox,’ sezee, en Brer Fox sot dar en watch ‘im fly outer sight.”

  “But what became of the Rabbit, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

  “Don’t you pester ‘longer Brer Rabbit, honey, en don’t you fret ‘bout ‘im. You’ll year whar he went en how he come out. Dish yer cole snap rastles wid my bones, now,” continued the old man, putting on his hat and picking up his walking-stick. “Hit rastles wid me monstus, en I gotter rack ‘roun’ en see if I kin run up agin some Chris’mus leavin’s.”

  IX.