Chapter III (2)

“Den de ole B’ar stuck he head in de water, en dot wuz de las’ er him, bless gracious! De scaldin’ water curlt de ha’r twel it come off, en I speck dat whar dey get de idee ’bout puttin’ b’ar grease on folks’ ha’r. De young b’ars dey cry like ever’ting w’en dey see how der daddy bin treated, en dey want bite and scratch de little boy en his sister, but dem dogs—dat Minnyminny Morack en dat Follerlinsko—dey des laid holt er dem dar b’ars, en dey want enough lef’ er um ter feed a kitten.”

“What did they do then?” asked the little boy who had been listening to the story. The old man took off his spectacles and cleaned the glasses on his coat-tail.

“Well, sir,” he went on, “de little boy tuck ’n kyard his sister home, an’ his mammy says she ain’t never gwine ter set no sto’ by folks wid fine cloze, kaze dey so ’ceitful; no, never, so long as de Lord mout spar’ ’er. En den, atter dat, dey tuck ’n live terge’er right straight ’long, en ef it hadn’t but a bin fer de war, dey’d a bin a-livin’ dar now. Bekaze war is a mighty dangersome business.”

HOW BLACK SNAKE CAUGHT THE WOLF

“One time,” said Uncle Remus, putting the “noses” of the chunks together with his cane, so as to make a light in his cabin, “Brer Rabbit en ole Brer Wolf wuz gwine down de road terge’er, en Brer Wolf, he ’low dat times wuz mighty hard en money skace. Brer Rabbit, he ’gree ’long wid ’im, he did, dat times wuz mighty tight, en he up en say dat ’t wuz in about much ez he kin do fer ter make bofe en’s meet. He ’low, he did:

“‘Brer Wolf, you er gittin’ mighty ga’nt, en ’t won’t be so mighty long ’fo’ we’ll batten be tuck up en put in de po’-house. W’at make dis?’ says Brer Rabbit, sezee: ‘I be bless ef I kin tell, kaze yer er all de creeturs gittin’ ga’nt w’iles all de reptules is a-gittin’ seal fat. No longer ’n yistiddy, I wuz comin’ along throo de woods, w’en who should I meet but ole Brer Snake, en he wuz dat put dat he ain’t kin skacely pull he tail ’long atter he head. I ’low ter mese’f, I did, dat dish yer country gittin’ in a mighty bad way w’en de creeturs is got ter go ’roun’ wid der ribs growin’ terge’er w’iles de reptules layin’ up in de sun des nat’ally fattenin’ on der own laziness. Yessar, dat w’at I ’lowed.’

“Brer Wolf, he say, he did, dat if de reptules wuz gittin’ de ’vantage er de creeturs dat away, dat hit wuz ’bout time fer ter clean out de reptules er leaf de country, en he ’low, fuddermo’, dat he wuz ready fur ter jine in wid de patter-rollers en drive um out.

“But Brer Rabbit, he ’low, he did, dat de bes’ way fer ter git ’long wuz ter fin’ out whar’bouts de reptules hed der smoke-’house en go in dar en git some er de vittles w’at by good rights b’long’d ter de creeturs. Brer Wolf say maybe dis de bes’ way, kaze ef de reptules git word dat de patter-rollers is a-comin’ dey ’ll take en hide de gingercakes, en der simmon beer, en der w’atzis-names, so dat de creeturs can’t git um. By dis time dey come ter de forks er de road, en Brer Rabbit he went one way, en Brer Wolf he went de yuther.

“Whar Brer Wolf went,” Uncle Remus went on, with increasing gravity, “de goodness knows, but Brer Rabbit, he went on down de road todes he own house, en w’iles he wuz lippitin’ long, nibblin’ a bite yer en a bite dar, he year a mighty kuse fuss in de woods. He lay low, Brer Rabbit did, en lissen. He look sharp, he did, en bimeby he ketch a glimp’ er ole Mr. Black Snake gwine ’long thoo de grass. Brer Rabbit, he lay low en watch ’im. Mr. Black Snake crope ’long, he did, des like he wuz greased. Brer Rabbit say ter hisse’f:

“‘Hi! dar goes one er de reptules, en ez she slips she slides ’long.’

“Yit, still he lay low en watch. Mr. Black Snake crope ’long, he did, en bimeby he come whar dey wuz a great big poplar-tree. Brer Rabbit, he crope on his belly en follow ’long atter. Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n circle all ’roun’ de tree, en den he stop en sing out:

“‘Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!
Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!’

“En den, mos’ ’fo’ Brer Rabbit kin wink he eye, a door w’at wuz in de tree flew’d open, en Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n crawl in. Brer Rabbit ’low, he did:

“‘Ah-yi! Dar whar you stay! Dar whar you keeps yo’ simmon beer! Dar whar you hides yo’ backbone en spar’ ribs. Ah-yi!’

“W’en Mr. Black Snake went in de house, Brer Rabbit crope up, he did, en lissen fer ter see w’at he kin year gwine on in dar. But he ain’t year nothin’. Bimeby, w’iles he settin’ ’roun’ dar, he year de same song:

“‘Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario, wo!
Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!’

“En mos’ ’fo’ Brer Rabbit kin hide in de weeds, de door hit flew’d open, en out Mr. Black Snake slid. He slid out, he did, en slid off, en atter he git out er sight, Brer Rabbit, he tuck ’n went back ter de poplar-tree fer ter see ef he kin git in dar. He hunt ’roun’ en he hunt ’roun’, en yit ain’t fin’ no door. Den he sat up on he behin’ legs, ole Brer Rabbit did, en low:

“‘Hey! w’at kinder contrapshun dish yer? I seed a door dar des now, but dey ain’t no door dar now.’

“Ole Brer Rabbit scratch he head, he did, en bimeby hit come inter he min’ dat maybe de song got sump’n ’n’er ter do wid it, en wid dat he chuned up, he did, en sing:

“‘_Watsilla, watsilla,
Bandario, wo-haw!_’

“Time he say fus’ part, de door sorter open, but w’en he say de las’ part hit slammed shet ag’in. Den he chune up some mo’:

“‘Watsilla, watsilla,
Bandario, wo-haw!’

“Time he say de fus’ part de door open little ways, but time he say de las’ part hit slammed shet ag’in. Den Brer Rabbit ’low he ’d hang ’roun’ dar en fin’ out w’at kind er hinges dat er door wuz a-swingin’ on. So he stays ’roun’ dar, he did, twel bimeby Mr. Black Snake came ’long back. Brer Rabbit crope up, he did, en he year ’im sing de song:

“‘Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!
Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!’

“Den de door open, en Mr. Black Snake, he slid in, en Brer Rabbit, he lipped off in de bushes en sung de song by hisse’f. Den he went home en tuck some res’, en nex’ day he went back; en w’en Mr. Black Snake come out en went off, Brer Rabbit, he tuck ’n sing de song, en de door hewed open, en in he went. He went in, he did, en w’en he got in dar, he fin’ lots er goodies. He fin’ cakes en sausages, en all sort er nice doin’s. Den he come out, en de nex’ day he went he tole Ole Brer Wolf, en Brer Wolf, he’low dat, bein’ ez times is hard, he b’lieve he ’ll go ’long en sample some er Mr. Black Snake’s doin’s.

“Dey went, dey did, en soon ez dey fin’ dat Mr. Black Snake is gone, Brer Rabbit he sing de song, en de door open, en in he went. He went in dar, he did, en he gobbled up his bellyful, en w’iles he doin’ dis Brer Wolf he gallop ’roun’ en ’roun’, tryin’ fer ter git in. But de door done slam shet, en Brer Wolf ain’t know de song. Bimeby Brer Rabbit he come out, he did, lickin’ he chops en wipin’ he mustash, en Brer Wolf ax ’im w’at de name er goodness is de reason he ain’t let ’im go in ’long wid ’im.

“Brer Rabbit, he vow, he did, dat he ’spected any gump ’ud know dat somebody got ter stay outside en watch w’iles de yuther one wuz on de inside. Brer Wolf say he ain’t thunk er dat, en den he ax Brer Rabbit fer ter let ’im in, en please be so good ez ter stay out dar en watch w’iles he git some er de goodies.

“Wid dat Brer Rabbit, he sung de song:

“‘Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!
Watsilla, watsilla,
Consario wo!’

“He sung de song, he did, en de door flew’d open, en Brer Wolf he lipt in, en gun ter gobble up de goodies. Brer Rabbit, he stayed outside, en make like he gwine ter watch. Brer Wolf, he e’t en e’t, en he keep on a-eatin’. Brer Rabbit, he tuck en stan’ off in de bushes, en bimeby he year Mr. Black Snake a-slidin’ thoo de grass. Brer Rabbit, he ain’t say nothin’. He ’low ter hisse’f, he did, dat he was dar ter watch, en dat w’at he gwine ter do ef de good Lord spar’ ’im. So he set dar en watch, en Mr. Black Snake, he come a-slidin’ up ter de house en sing de song, en den de door flew’d open en in he went.

“Brer Rabbit set dar en watch so hard, he did, dat it look like he eyes gwine to pop out. ’T want long ’fo’ he year sump’n ’n’er like a scuffle gwine on in de poplar-tree, en, fus’ news you know, Brer Wolf come tumberlin’ out. He come tumberlin’ out, he did, en down he fell, kaze Mr. Black Snake got ’im tie hard en fas’ so he ain’t kin run.

“Den, atter so long a time, Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n tie Brer Wolf up ter a lim’, en dar dat creetur swung ’twixt de hevin en de yeth. He swung en swayed, en eve’y time he swung Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n lash ’im wid he tail, en eve’y time he lash ’im Brer Rabbit holler out, he did:

“‘Sarve ’im right! sarve ’im right!’

“En I let you know,” said the old man, refilling his pipe, “dat w’en Mr. Black Snake git thoo wid dat creetur, he ain’t want no mo’ goodies.”

WHY THE GUINEAS STAY AWAKE

One night when the little boy was waiting patiently for Uncle Remus to tell him a story, the guineas began to scream at a great rate, and they kept it up for some time.

“Ah, Lord!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, blowing the ashes from a sweet potato that had been roasting in the embers. “Ah, Lord! dem ar creeturs is mighty kuse creeturs. I boun’ you ef you go up dar whar dey is right now, you’ll fin’ some kind er varmint slippin’ ’roun’ und’ de bushes. Hit mout be ole Brer Fox. I won’t say p’intedly dat it’s Brer Fox,” the old man continued, with the air of one who is willing to assert only what he can prove, “yit it mout be. But ne’er min’ ’bout dat; Brer Fox er no Brer Fox, dem guinea hens ain’t gwine ter be kotch. De varments kin creep up en slip up ez de case may be, but dey ain’t gwine to slip up en ketch dem creeturs asleep.”

“Don’t the guineas ever sleep, Uncle Remus?” the little boy inquired. His curiosity was whetted.

“Oh, I ’speck dey does sleep,” replied the old man. “Yasser, dey er bleege ter sleep, but dey ain’t bin kotch at it—leastways, dey aint bin kotch at it not sence Brer Fox crope up on um long time ago. He kotch um a-snorin’ den, but he ain’t kotch um sence, en he ain’t gwine kotch um no mo’.

“You may go ter bed now,” Uncle Remus went on, in a tone calculated to carry conviction with it, “you may go ter bed en go ter sleep right now, but wake up w’enst you will en you’ll year dem guineas a-cacklin’ en a confabbin’ out dar des same ez ef’t wuz broad daylight. Seem like dey ain’t gwine ter fergit de time w’en Brer Fox crope up on um, en kotch um ’sleep.”

“When was that, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, as he settled himself in the split-bottom chair in anticipation of a story.

“Well,” said the old man, noticing the movement, “you nee’n ter primp yo’se’f fer no great long tale, honey, kaze dish yer tale ain’t skacely long nuff fer ter tie a snapper on. Yit sech es ’t is you er mo’ dan welcome.

“One time ’way long back yander dem guineas wuz des ez drowsy w’en night come ez any er de yuther folks. Dey ’d go ter roos’, dey would, en dey ’d drap off ter sleep time der head totch de piller.”

“The pillow, Uncle Remus!” exclaimed the little boy.

“Well,” said the old man, rubbing his hand over his weatherbeaten face to hide a smile, “hit’s all de same. In dem days dey could ’a’ had pillers ef dey ’d a-wanted um, en bolsters, too, fer dat matter, en likewise fedder-beds, kaze dey wouldn’t ’a’ had ter go no fur ways fer de fedders.

“But ne’er mind ’bout dat; no sooner did dey git up on de roos’ dan dey drap off ter sleep, en dey kep’ on dat away twel bimeby one time Brer Fox made up he min’ dat he better be kinder sociable en pay um a call atter dey done gone ter bed.

“Dar wuz times,” continued Uncle Remus, as if endeavoring to be perfectly fair and square to all the parties concerned, “w’en Brer Fox tuck a notion fer ter walk ’bout in de daytime, but mos’ allers inginer’lly he done he pomernadin’ ’twix’ sundown en sun-up. I dunner w’at time er night hit wuz w’en Brer Fox call on de guineas, but I speck’t wuz long todes de shank er de evenin’, ez you may say.

“Yit, soon er late, w’en he got ter whar de guineas live at, he foun’ um all soun’ asleep. Now, some folks w’en dey go anywhars fer ter make deyse’f sociable, en fin’ eve’ybody fas’ asleep, would ’a’ tu’n ’roun’ en made der way back home; but Brer Fox ain’t dat kind er man. Dem guineas roos’ so low en dey look so fine en fat dat it make Brer Fox feel like dey wuz his fus’ cousin.

“He sot down on his hunkers, Brer Fox did, en he look at um en grin. Den he ’low ter hisse’f:

“‘I’ll des shake han’s wid one un um en den I’ll go.’

“Well,” continued Uncle Remus, “Brer Fox went up en shuck han’s wid one un um, en he must ’a’ squoze mighty hard, kaze de guinea make a mighty flutterment; en he mus’ ’a’ helt on wid a mighty tight grip, kaze w’en he tuck off his hat en bowed good-by de guinea went ’long wid ’im.

“Well, suh,” said the old man solemnly, “you never is year tell er sech a racket ez dem guineas kicked up w’en dey ’skiver dat Brer Fox done make off wid one un um. Dey squall en dey squall twel dey rousted up de whole neighborhoods. De dogs got ter barkin’, de owls got ter hootin’, de hosses got ter kickin’, de cows got ter lowin’, en de chickens got ter crowin’.

“En mo’ dan dat,” Uncle Remus continued, “de guineas wuz dat skeered dat dey tu’n right pale on de neck en on de gills, en ef you don’t b’lieve me you kin go up dar in de gyarden en look at um fer yo’se’f.”

But the little boy had no idea of going. He saw by Uncle Remus’s air of preoccupation that the story was not yet concluded.

“En mo’ dan dat,” said the old man, after a short pause, “dey got skeerd so bad dat from dat day ter dis dey don’t sleep soun’ at night. Dey may squat ’roun’ in de shade en nod in de daytime, dough I ain’t kotch um at it, en dey may sort er nod atter dey go ter roos’ at night; but ef a betsey bug flies by um, er yit ef a sparrer flutters in de bushes, dey er wide awake; dey mos’ sholy is.

“Hit seem like ter me,” Uncle Remus continued, “dat dey mus’ be ha’nted in der dreams by ole Brer Fox, kaze all times er night you kin year um gwine on:

“‘_L-o-o-o-o-k, look, look! Dar he is, dar he is! Go ’way, go ’way!_’

“Some folks say dat dey holler, ‘_Pot-rack! pot-rack!_’ but dem w’at talk dat away is mostly w’ite folks, en dey ain’t know nuthin’ ’t all ’bout dem ole times. Mars John en Miss Sally mout know, but ef dey does I ain’t year um sesso.”

HOW THE TERRAPIN WAS TAUGHT TO FLY

Uncle Remus had the weakness of the genuine story-teller. When he was in the humor, the slightest hint would serve to remind him of a story, and one story would recall another. Thus, when the little boy chanced to manifest some curiosity in regard to the whippoorwill, which, according to an old song, had performed the remarkable feat of carrying the sheep’s corn to mill, the old man took great pains to describe the bird, explaining, in his crude way, how it differed from the chuck-will’s-widow, which is frequently mistaken for the whippoorwill, especially in the South. Among other things, he told the child how the bird could fly through the darkness and flap its wings without making the slightest noise.

The little boy had a number of questions to ask about this, and the talk about flying reminded Uncle Remus of a story. He stopped short in his explanations and began to chuckle. The little boy asked him what the matter was.

“Shoo, honey!” said the old man, “w’en you git ole ez I is, en yo’ ’membunce cropes up en tickles you, you ’ll laugh too, dat you will. Talkin’ all ’bout dish yer flyin’ business fotch up in my min’ de time w’en ole Brer Tarrypin boned ole Brer Buzzard fer ter l’arn him how ter fly. He got atter ’im, en he kep’ atter ’im; he begged en ’swaded, en ’swaded en he begged. Brer Buzzard tole ’im dat dey wuz mos’ too much un ’im in one place, but Brer Tarrypin, he des kep on atter ’im, en bimeby Brer Buzzard ’low dat ef nothin’ else ain’t gwine do ’im, he’ll des whirl in en gin ’im some lessons in flying fer ole ’quaintance sakes.

“Dis make ole Brer Tarrypin feel mighty good, en he say he ready fer ter begin right now, but Brer Buzzard say he ain’t got time des den, but he’ll be sho’ en come ’roun’ de nex’ day en gin ole Brer Tarrypin de fus’ lesson.

“Ole Brer Tarrypin, he sot dar en wait, he did, en dough he nodded yer en dar thro’ de night, hit look like ter ’im dat day ain’t never gwine ter come. He wait en he wait, he did, but bimeby de sun riz, en’t want so mighty long atter dat ’fo’ yer come Brer Buzzard sailin’ ’long. He sailed ’roun’ en ’roun’, en eve’y time he sail ’roun’ he come lower, en atter w’ile he lit.

“He lit, he did, en pass de time er day wid Brer Tarrypin en ax ’im is he ready. Brer Tarrypin ’low he been ready too long ter talk ’bout, en w’en Brer Buzzard year dis, he tuck ’n squot in de grass en ax Brer Tarrypin fer ter crawl upon he back. But Brer Buzzard back mighty slick, en de mo’ Brer Tarrypin try fer ter crawl up, de mo’ wa’l he slip back. But he tuck ’n crawl up atter w’ile, en w’en he git sorter settled down, he ’low, he did:

“‘You kin start now, Brer Buzzard, but you’ll hatter be mighty keerful not ter run over no rocks en stumps, kaze ef dish yer waggin gits ter joltin’, I ’m a goner,’ sezee.

“Brer Buzzard, he tuck ’n start off easy, en he move so slick en smoove en swif’ dat Brer Tarrypin laugh en ’low dat he ain’t had no sech sweet ridin’ sence he crossed de river in a flat. He sail ’roun’ en ’roun’, he did, en gun Brer Tarrypin a good ride, en den bimeby he sail down ter de groun’ en let Brer Tarryin slip off’n he back.

“Nex’ day he come ’roun’ agin, ole Brer Buzzard did, en gun Brer Tarrypin ’n’er good ride, en de nex’ day he done de same, en he keep on doin’ dis away, twel atter w’ile Brer Tarrypin got de consate dat he kin do some fly’n’ on he own hook. So he up en ax Brer Buzzard for call ’roun’ one mo’ time, en gin ’im a good start.”

Here Uncle Remus paused to chuckle a moment, and then went on—

“Gentermens! It tickles me eve’y time it come in my min’, dat it do! Well, sir, ole Brer Buzzard wuz dat full er rascality dat he ain’t got no better sense dan ter come, en de nex’ day he sail up, he did, bright en yearly. He lit on de grass, en ole Brer Tarrypin, he crope up on he back, en den Brer Buzzard riz. He riz up in de elements, now, en w’en he git up dar he sorter fetched a flirt en a swoop en slid out from under Brer Tarrypin.

“Ole Brer Tarrypin, he flapped he foots en wagged he head en shuck he tail, but all dis ain’t done no good. He start off right-side up, but he ain’t drap fur, ’fo’ he ’gun ter turn somersets up dar, en down he come on he back—_kerblam—m—m—_! En ef it hadn’t but er bin fer de strenk er he shell, he’d er got bust wide open. He lay dar, ole Brer Tarrypin did, en try ter ketch he breff, en he groan en he pant like eve’y minnit gwine ter be nex’.

“Ole Brer Buzzard, he sail ’roun’, he did, en look at Brer Tarrypin, en bimeby he lit fer ter make inquirements.

“‘Brer Tarrypin, how you feel?’ sezee.

“‘Brer Buzzard, I’m teetotally ruint,’ sezee.

“‘Well, Brer Tarrypin, I tole you not ter try ter fly,’ sezee.

“‘Hush up, Brer Buzzard!’ sezee; ‘I flew’d good ez anybody, but you fergot ter l’arn me how ter light. Flyin’ is easy as fallin’, but I don’t speck I kin l’arn how ter light, en dat’s whar de trouble come in,’ sezee.”

Uncle Remus laughed as heartily at the result of Brother Terrapin’s attempts to fly as if he had heard of them for the first time; but before the little boy could ask him any questions, he remarked:

“Well, de goodness en de gracious! dat put me in min’ er de time w’en ole Brer Rabbit make a bet wid Brer Fox.”

“How was that, Uncle Remus?” the child inquired.

“Ef I ain’t make no mistakes,” responded Uncle Remus, with the air of one who was willing to sacrifice everything to accuracy, “ole Brer Rabbit bet Brer Fox dat he kin go de highest up in de elements, en not clam no holler tree nudder. Brer Fox, he tuck ’im up, en dey ’pinted de day fer de trial ter come off.

“W’iles dey wuz makin’ all der ’rangerments, Brer Fox year talk dat Brer Rabbit have done gone en hire Brer Buzzard fer ter tote ’im ’way ’bove de tops er de trees. Soon’s he year dis, Brer Fox went ter Brer Buzzard, he did, en tole ’im dat he gin ’im a pot er gol’ ef he’d whirl in en kyar Brer Rabbit clean out ’n de county. Brer Buzzard ’low dat he wuz de ve’y man fer ter do dat kind er bizness.

“So den w’en de time come fer de trial, Brer Fox, he wuz dar, en Brer Rabbit, he wuz dar, en Brer Buzzard, he wuz dar, en lots er de yuther creeturs. Dey flung cross en piles fer ter see w’ich gwine ter start fus’, en it fell ter Brer Fox. He look ’roun’, old Brer Fox did, en wink at Brer Buzzard, an Brer Buzzard, he wink back good ez he kin. Wid dat, Brer Fox tuck a runnin’ start en clam a leanin’ tree. Brer Rabbit say dat better dan he ’spected Brer Fox kin do, but he ’low he gwine ter beat dat. Den he tuck ’n jump on Brer Buzzard back, en Brer Buzzard riz en sail off wid ’im. Brer Fox laugh w’en he see dis, en ’low, sezee:

“‘Folks, ef you all got any intruss in ole Brer Rabbit, you des better tell ’im good-by, kaze you won’t see ’im no mo’ in dese diggin’s.’

“Dis make all de yuther creeturs feel mighty good, kaze in dem days ole Brer Rabbit wuz a tarrifier, dat he wuz. But dey all sot dar, dey did, en keep der eye on Brer Buzzard, w’ich he keep on gittin’ higher en higher, en littler en littler. Dey look en dey look, en bimeby dey sorter see Brer Buzzard flop fus’ one wing, en den de yuther. He keep on floppin’ dis away, en eve’y time he flop, he git nigher en nigher de groun’. He flop en fall, en flop en fall, en circle ’roun’, en bimeby he come close ter de place whar he start fum, en him en Brer Rabbit come down _ker-flip_! En Brer Rabbit ain’t no sooner hit de groun’ dan he rush off in de bushes, en sot dar fer ter see w’at gwine ter happen nex’.”

“But, Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, “why didn’t Brother Buzzard carry Brother Rabbit off, and get the pot of gold?”

“Bless yo’ soul, honey, dey wuz some mighty good reasons in de way! W’en ole Brer Buzzard got ’way up in de elements, he ’low, he did:

“‘We er gwine on a mighty long journey, Brer Rabbit.’

“Brer Rabbit he laugh like a man w’at’s a-drivin’ a plow-hoss wid a badoon bit.

“‘You may be a-gwine on a long journey, Brer Buzzard; I don’t ’spute dat,’ sezee, ‘but it’ll be atter you done kyar’d me back whar we start fum.’

“Den Brer Buzzard he up en tell Brer Rabbit ’bout de bargain he done make wid Brer Fox. Dis make Brer Rabbit laugh wuss ’n befo’.

“‘Law, Brer Buzzard’, sezee, ‘w’en it come ter makin’ dat kinder bargain, you oughter make it wid me, kaze I’m a long ways a better trader dan w’at Brer Fox is.’

“Brer Buzzard he don’t ’spon’ ter dat, but he keep on flyin’ higher en higher, en furder en furder away. Bimeby Brer Rabbit ’gun ter git kinder oneasy, en he ’low:

“‘Look like ter me we done got fur ’nuff, Brer Buzzard,’ sezee, ’en I’ll be mighty much erbleege ef you kyar me back.’

“Brer Buzzard keep on flyin’ furder. Bimeby Brer Rabbit ax ’im ag’in, but Brer Buzzard keep on flyin’ furder. Den ole Brer Rabbit he ’low, sezee:

“‘Ef I got ter des nat’ally _make_ you go back, I speck I better start in right now,’ sezee.

“Wid dat Brer Rabbit retch down, he did, en bit Brer Buzzard under de wing.”

The little boy clapped his hands and laughed at this, and Uncle Remus laughed in sympathy.

“Yesser,” the old man went on, “ole Brer Rabbit retch down en bit Brer Buzzard under de wing, right spang in he most ticklish en tender-some spot. Co’se dis make Brer Buzzard shet he wing quick, en w’en he shet he wing, he bleedge ter fall some. Den w’en he open de wing out en ketch hisse’f, Brer Rabbit holler out:

“‘Is you gwine back, Brer Buzzard?’

“Brer Buzzard ain’t say nuthin’, en den Brer Rabbit retch down en bit ’im under de yuther wing. It keep on dis away twel it got so dat Brer Rabbit kin guide Brer Buzzard along des same ez ef he done bin broke ter harness, en dat’s de way he made ’im kyar ’im back.”

The little boy enjoyed these stories very much, and was very sorry to see that Uncle Remus was not in the humor for telling any more. Perhaps his store was exhausted. At any rate, the old man flatly refused to cudgel his memory for another legend.

THE CREATURE WITH NO CLAWS

“W’en you git a leetle bit older dan w’at you is, honey,” said Uncle Remus to the little boy, “you’ll know lots mo’ dan you does now.”

The old man had a pile of white oak splits by his side, and these he was weaving into a chair-bottom. He was an expert in the art of “bottoming chairs,” and he earned many a silver quarter in this way. The little boy seemed to be much interested in the process.

“Hit’s des like I tell you,” the old man went on; “I done had de speunce un it. I done got so now dat I don’t b’lieve w’at I see, much less w’at I year. It got ter be whar I kin put my han’ on it en fumble wid it. Folks kin fool deyse’f lots wuss dan yuther folks kin fool um, en ef you don’t b’lieve w’at I’m a-tellin’ un you, you kin des ax Brer Wolf de nex’ time you meet ’im in de big road.”

“What about Brother Wolf, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, as the old man paused to refill his pipe.

“Well, honey, ’t ain’t no great long rigamarole; hit’s des one er deze yer tales w’at goes in a gallop twel hit gits ter de jumpin’-off place.

“One time Brer Wolf wuz gwine ’long de big road feelin’ mighty proud en high-strung. He wuz a mighty high-up man in dem days, Brer Wolf wuz, en mos’ all de yuther creeturs wuz feard tin ’im. Well, he wuz gwine ’long lickin’ his chops en walkin’ sorter stiff-kneed, w’en he happen ter look down ’pon de groun’ en dar he seed a track in de san’. Brer Wolf stop, he did, en look at it, en den he ’low:

“‘Heyo! w’at kind er creetur dish yer? Brer Dog ain’t make dat track, en needer is Brer Fox. Hit’s one er deze yer kind er creeturs w’at ain’t got no claws. I’ll des ’bout foller ’im up, en ef I ketch ’im he’ll sholy be my meat.’

“Dat de way Brer Wolf talk. He followed ’long atter de track, he did, en he look at it close, but he ain’t see no print er no claw’. Bimeby de track tuck ’n tu’n out de road en go up a dreen whar de rain done wash out. De track wuz plain dar in de wet san’, but Brer Wolf ain’t see no sign er no claws.

“He foller en foller, Brer Wolf did, en de track git fresher en fresher, but still he ain’t see no print er no claw. Bimeby he come in sight er de creetur, en Brer Wolf stop, he did, en look at ’im. He stop stock-still en look. De creetur wuz mighty quare lookin’, en he wuz cuttin’ up some mighty quare capers. He had big head, sharp nose, en bob tail, en he wuz walkin’ ’roun’ en ’roun’ a big dog-wood tree, rubbin’ his sides ag’in it. Brer Wolf watch ’im a right smart while, en den he ’low:

“‘Shoo! dat creetur done bin in a fight en los’ de bes’ part er he tail, en mo’ ’n dat, he got de eatch, kaze ef he ain’t got de eatch w’at make he scratch hisse’f dat away? I lay I ’ll let ’im know who he foolin’ ’long wid.’

“Atter while, Brer Wolf went up a leetle nigher de creetur, en holler out:

“‘Heyo, dar! w’at you doin’ scratchin’ yo’ scaly hide on my tree, en tryin’ fer ter break hit down?’

“De creetur ain’t make no answer. He des walk ’roun’ en ’roun’ de tree scratchin’ he sides en back. Brer Wolf holler out:

“‘I lay I ’ll make you year me ef I hatter come dar whar you is.’

“De creetur des walk ’roun’ en ’roun’ de tree, en ain’t make no answer. Den Brer Wolf hail ’im ag’in, en talk like he mighty mad:

“‘Ain’t you gwine ter min’ me, you imperdent scoundul? Ain’t you gwine ter mozey outer my woods en let my tree ’lone?’

“Wid dat, Brer Wolf march todes des creetur des like he gwine ter squ’sh ’im in de groun’. De creetur rub hisse’f ag’in de tree en look like he feel mighty good. Brer Wolf keep on gwine todes ’im, en bimeby w’en he git sorter close de creetur tuck ’n sot up on his behime legs des like you see squir’ls do. Den Brer Wolf, he ’low, he did:

“‘Ah-yi! you beggin’, is you? But ’t ain’t gwine ter do you no good. I mout er let you off ef you’d a-minded me w’en I fus’ holler atter you, but I ain’t gwine ter let you off now. I’m a-gwine ter l’arn you a lesson dat’ll stick by you.’

“Den de creetur sorter wrinkle up his face en mouf, en Brer Wolf ’low:

“‘Oh, you neenter swell up en cry, you ’ceitful vilyun. I’m a-gwine ter gi’ you a frailin’ dat I boun’ yer won’t forgit.’

“Brer Wolf make like he gwine ter hit de creetur, en den——”

Here Uncle Remus paused and looked all around the room and up at the rafters. When he began again his voice was very solemn.

——“Well, suh, dat creetur des fotch one swipe dis away, en ’n’er swipe dat away, en mos’ ’fo’ you kin wink yo’ eye-balls, Brer Wolf hide wuz mighty nigh teetotally tor’d off’n ’im. Atter dat de creetur sa’ntered off in de woods, en ’gun ter rub hisse’f on ’n’er tree.”

“What kind of a creature was it, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“Well, honey,” replied the old man in a confidential whisper, “hit wa’n’t nobody on de top-side er de yeth but ole Brer Wildcat.”

UNCLE REMUS’S WONDER STORY

There was one story that the little boy whom Uncle Remus delighted to entertain asked for with great regularity, perhaps because it has in it an element of witchcraft, and was as marvelous as it was absurd. Sometimes Uncle Remus pretended to resent this continued demand for the story, although he himself, like all the negroes, was very superstitious, and believed more or less in witches and witchcraft.

“Dat same ole tale,” he would say. “Well! well! well! W’en is we gwine ter year de las’ un it? I done tole you dat tale so much dat it make my flesh crawl, kaze I des know dat some er deze yer lonesome nights I’ll be a-settin’ up yer by de fier atter you done gone. I’ll be a-settin’ up yer dreamin’ ’bout gwine ter bed, en sumpin’ ’n’er ’ll come a-clawin’ at de do’, en I’ll up en ax, ‘Who dat?’ En dey’ll up en ’spon’, ‘Lemme in.’ En I’ll ondo de do’, en dat ole creetur’ll walk in, en dat’ll be de las’ er po’ ole Remus’ En den w’en dat come ter pass, who gwine take time fer ter tell you tales? Dat w’at I like ter know.”

The little boy, although he well knew that there were no witches, would treat this statement with gravity, as the story to him was as fascinating as one of the “Thousand and One Nights.”

“Well, Uncle Remus,” he would say, “just tell it this time!” Whereupon the old negro, with the usual preliminary flourishes, began:

“One time, ’way back yander, w’en de moon wuz lots bigger dan w’at she is now, dar wuz er ole Witch-Wolf livin’ ’way off in de swamp, en dish yer ole Witch-Wolf wuz up to ter all sorts er contrariness. Look like she wuz cross-ways wid de whole er creation. W’en she wa’n’t doin’ devilment, she wuz studyin’ up devilment. She had a mighty way, de ole Witch-Wolf did, dat w’en she git hungry she’d change ’erse’f ter be a ’oman. She could des shet ’er eye en smack ’er mouf, en stiddier bein’ a big black wolf, wid long claws en green eye-balls, she’d come ter be the likelies’ lookin’ gal dat you mos’ ever seed.

“It seem like she love ter eat folks, but’fo’ she kin eat urn she hatter marry um; en w’en she take a notion, she des change ’erse’f ter be a likely lookin’ gal, en sails in en git married. Den w’en she do dat, she des take en change ’erse’f back ter be a wolf, en eat um up raw. Go whar you kin, en whar you mout, en yit I don’t ’speck you kin fin’ any wuss creetur dan w’at dis ole Witch-Wolf wuz.

“Well, sir, at de same time w’en dis ole Witch-Wolf gwine on dis away, dey wuz a man livin’ in de neighborhood w’at she took a mighty notion fer ter marry. De man had lan’, but she ain’t want de lan’; de man had hosses, but she ain’t want de hosses; de man had cows, but she ain’t want de cows. She des nat’ally want de man hisse’f, kaze he mighty fat en nice.”

“Did she want to marry him, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, as though the tale were true, as indeed it seemed to be while Uncle Remus was telling it and acting it.

“Tooby sho’, honey! Dat ’zactly w’at she want. She want ter marry ’im, en eat ’im up. Well, den, w’en she git eve’ything good en ready, she des tuck ’n back ’er years, en bat ’er eyes, en smack ’er mouf, and dar she wuz—a likely young gal! She up en got ter de lookin’-glass, she did, en swinge ’er ha’r wid de curlin’-tongs, en tie ribbons on ’er cloze, en fix up ’er beau-ketchers. She look nice, fit ter kill, now. Den she tuck ’n pass by de man house, en look back en snicker, en hol’ ’er head on one side, en sorter shake out ’er cloze, en put ’er han’ up fer ter see ef de ha’rpins in der place. She pass by dis away lots er times, en bimeby de man kotch a glimp’ un ’er; en no sooner is he do dis dan she wave her hankcher. De man he watch ’er en watch er, en bimeby, atter she kep’ on whippin’ by, he come out en hail ’er. En den she tuck ’n stop, en nibble at ’er fan en fumble wid ’er hankcher, en dey tuck ’n stan’ dar, dey did, en pass de time er day. Atter dat de sun never riz en set widout she hol’ some confab wid de man; en ’t want long ’fo’ de man took a notion dat she de very gal fer a wife, w’at he bin a-huntin’ fer. Wid dat dey des got right down ter ole-fashion courtin’. Dey’d laugh, dey’d giggle, dey ’d’spute, dey’d pout. You ain’t never seen folks a-courtin’, is you, honey?”

The little boy never had, and he said so.

“Well, den,” Uncle Remus would continue, “you ain’t none de wuss off fer dat, kaze dey ain’t nuthin’ in de roun’ worl’ dat’ll turn yo’ stomach quicker. But dar dey wuz, en de ole Witch-Wolf make sho’ she wuz gwine ter git de man; let lone dat, de man he make sho’ he wuz gwine ter git de gal. Yit de man he belt back, en ef de Witch-Wolf hadn’t er bin afeard she’d drap de fat in de fier, she’d er des come right out en pop de question den en dar. But de man he helt back en helt back, en bimeby he say ter hisse’f, he did, dat he ’speck he better make some inquirements ’bout dis yer gal. Yit who sh’ll he go ter?

“He study en study, en atter w’ile hit come ’cross he min’ dat he better go en ax ole Jedge Rabbit ’bout ’er, bein’ ez he bin livin’ ’roun’ dar a mighty long time.

“Ole Jedge Rabbit,” Uncle Remus would explain, “done got ole in age en gray in de min’. He done sober up en settle down, en I let you know dey want many folks in dem diggin’s but w’at went ter ole Jedge Rabbit w’en dey git in trouble. So de man he went ter Jedge Rabbit house en rap at de do’. Jedge Rabbit, he ’low, he did, ‘Who dat?’

“Man he up en ’spon’, ‘Hit’s me.’

“Den Jedge Rabbit ’gin ter talk like one er deze yer town lawyers. He ’low, he did, ‘Mighty short name fer grown man. Gimme de full entitlements.’

“Man he gun um ter ’im, en den ole Jedge Rabbit open de do’ en let ’im in. Dey sot dar by de fier, dey did, twel bimeby’t want long ’fo’ de man ’gun ter tell ’im ’bout dish yer great gal w’at he bin courtin’ ’long wid. Bimeby Jedge Rabbit ax ’im, sezee, ‘W’at dish yer great gal name?’

“Man he ’low, ‘Mizzle-Mazzle,’

“Jedge Rabbit look at de man sort er like he takin’ pity on ’im, en den he tuk he cane en make a mark in de ashes. Den he ax de man how ole is dish yer great gal. Man tol’ ’im. Jedge Rabbit make ’n’er mark in de ashes. Den he ax de man is she got cat eyes. Man sort er study ’bout dis, but he say he ’speck she is. Jedge Rabbit make ’n’er mark. Den he ax is ’er years peaked at de top. Man ’low he disremember, but he speck dey is. Jedge Rabbit make ’n’er mark in de ashes. Den he ax is she got yaller ha’r. Man say she is. Jedge Rabbit make ’n’er mark. Den he ax is ’er toofs sharp. Man say dey is. Jedge Rabbit make ’n’er mark. Atter he done ax all dis, Jedge Rabbit got up, he did, en went ’cross de room ter de lookin’-glass. W’en he see hisse’f in dar, he tuck ’n shet one eye, _s-l-o-w_. Den he sot down en leant back in de cheer, en ’low, sezee:

“‘I done had de idee in my head dat ole Mizzle-Mazzle done moof out ’n de country, en yit yer she is gallopin’ ’roun’ des ez natchul ez a dead pig in de sunshine!’

“Man look ’stonish, but he ain’t say nuthin’. Jedge Rabbit keep on talkin’.

“‘You ain’t never bin trouble’ wid no trouble yit, but ef you wan’ ter be trouble’ wid trouble dat’s double en thribble trouble, you des go en marry ole Mizzle-Mazzle,’ sezee. ‘You nee’nter b’lieve me less ’n you wan’ ter,’ sezee. ‘Des go ’long en marry ’er,’ sezee.

“Man he look skeerd. He up en ’low, he did, ‘W’at de name er goodness I gwine do?’

“Ole Jedge Rabbit look sollumcolly. ‘You got any cows?’ sezee.

“Man say he got plenty un um.

“‘Well, den,’ sez ole Jedge Rabbit, sezee, ‘ax ’er ef she kin keep house. She’ll say yasser. Ax ’er ef she kin cook. She’ll say yasser. Ax er ef she kin scour. She’ll say yasser. Ax ’er ef she kin wash cloze. She’ll say yasser. Ax ’er ef she kin milk de red cow. Den see w’at she say.’

“Man, he ’low, he did, dat he mighty much erbleege ter ole Jedge Rabbit, en wid dat he make he bow en tuck he leaf. He went home, he did, en w’en he git dar, sho’ ’nuff dar wuz dish yer nice-lookin’ gal a pommynadin’ up en down de road, en shakin’ ’er hankcher. Man, he hail ’er, he did, en ax ’er how she come on. She ’low she purty well, en how do he do. Man say he feelin’ sort er po’ly. Den she up en ax ’im w’at de matter. Man say he ’speck he feel po’ly kaze he so powerful lonesome. Den dish yer nice-lookin’ gal, she ax ’im w’at make he so powerful lonesome. Man he say he ’speck he so powerful lonesome kase he want ter marry.

“Time de man come out so flat-footed ’bout marryin’, de gal, she ’gun ter work wid ’er fan, en chaw at ’er hankcher. Den, atter w’ile, she up en ax ’im who he wan’ ter marry. Man ’low he ain’t no ways ’tickler, kase he des want somebody fer ter take keer er de house w’en he gone, en fer ter set down by de fier, en keep ’im comp’ny w’en he at home. Den he up en ax de gal kin she keep house. De gal she ’low, ‘Yasser!’ Den he ax ’er ef she kin cook. She ’low, ‘Yasser!’ Den he ax ’er ef she kin scour. She ’low, ‘Yasser!’ Den he ax ’er ef she kin wash cloze. She ’low, ‘Yasser!’ Den he ax ’er ef she kin milk de red cow. Wid dat she flung up ’er han’s, en fetched a squall dat make de man jump.

“‘Law!’ sez she, ‘does you speck I’m a-gwine ter let dat cow hook me?’

“Man, he say de cow des ez gentle ez a dog.

“‘Does you speck I’m a-gwine ter let dat cow kick me crank-sided?’ sez she.

“Man, he ’low, he did, dat de cow won’t kick, but dat ar gal she tuck ’n make mo’ skuses dan dey is frogs in de spring branch, but bimeby she say she kin try. But she ’low dat fus’ ’fo’ she try dat she’ll show ’im how she kin keep house. So the nex’ mornin’ yer she come, en I let you know she sailed in dar, en sot dat house ter rights ’fo’ some wimmen folks kin tun ’roun’. Man, he say, he did, dat she do dat mighty nice.

“Nex’ day, de gal sot in en got dinner. Man say, he did, dat dey ain’t nobody w’at kin beat dat dinner. Nex’ day, she sot in en scoured, en she make that flo’ shine same ez a lookin’-glass. Man, he say dey ain’t nobody in dat neighborhoods kin beat dat scourin’. Nex’ day, she come fer ter milk de red cow, en de man, he ’low ter hisse’f, he did, dat he gwine ter see w’at make she don’t like ter milk dat cow.

“De gal come, she did, en git de milk-piggin’, en scald it out, en den she start fer de cow-lot. Man, he crope ’long atter de gal fer ter watch ’er. Gal went on, en w’en she come ter de lot dar wuz de red cow stan’in’ in de fence-cornder wallopin’ ’er cud. Gal, she sorter shuck de gate, she did, en holler, ‘Sook, cow! Sook, cow!’ Cow, she pearten up at dat, kaze she know w’en folks call ’er dat away, she gwine ter come in fer a bucket er slops.

“She pearten up, de red cow did, en start todes de gate, but, gentermens! time she smell dat gal, she ’gun a blate like she smell blood, en paw’d de groun’ en shuck ’er head des like she fixin’ fer ter make fight. Man, he ’low ter hisse’f dat dish yer kinder business mighty kuse, en he keep on watchin’. Gal, she open de gate, but stiddier de cow makin’ fight, she ’gun ter buck. Gal, she say, ‘So, cow! so, cow, so!’ but de cow she hist her tail in de elements, en run ’roun’ dat lot like de dogs wuz atter ’er. Gal, she foller on, en hit sorter look like she gwine ter git de cow hemmed up in a cornder, but de cow ain’t got no notion er dis, en bimeby she whirl en make a splunge at de gal, en ef de gal hadn’t er lipt de fence quick es she did de cow would er got ’er. Ez she lipt de fence, de man seed ’er foots, en, lo en beholes, dey wuz wolf foots! Man, he holler out:

“‘You oughter w’ar shoes w’en you come a-milkin’ de red cow!’ en wid dat, de ole Witch-Wolf gun a twist, en fetched a yell, en made ’er disappearance in de elements.”

Here Uncle Remus paused awhile. Then he shook his head, and exclaimed:

“’T ain’t no use! Dey may fool folks, but cows knows wil’ creeturs by der smell.”

THE RATTLESNAKE AND THE POLECAT

“I lay ’t won’t be long,” said Uncle Remus, as the little boy drew his chair closer to the broad fireplace, “’fo’ I’ll hatter put on a backlog en pile’ up de chunks. Dem w’at gits up ’bout de crack er day like I does is mighty ap’ fer ter fin’ de a’r sorter fresh deze mornin’s. Fus’ news you know old Jack Frost ’ll be a-blowin’ his horn out dar in de woods, en he ’ll blow it so hard dat he ’ll jar down de hick’ry-nuts, de scalybarks, de chinkapins, en de bullaces, en den ole Brer ’Possum will begin fer ter take his promenades, en ef I don’t ketch ’im hit ’ll be kaze I’m too stiff in my j’ints fer ter toiler ’long atter de dogs.

“Dish yer kinder freshness in de a’r w’at make yo’ breff smoke w’en you blow it outen yo’ mouf,” continued Uncle Remus, “puts me in de min’ er de time w’en Brer Polecat wuz a-huntin’ fer a new house. De wedder wuz gittin’ kinder shivery, en Brer Polecat he sot out ter fin’ a good warm place whar he kin stay w’en de freeze come on.

“He mozey ’long, Brer Polecat did, twel he come ter Brer Rattlesnake house, w’ich it wuz in a holler tree. Brer Polecat knock at de do’. Brer Rattlesnake ’low, ‘Who dat?’

“Brer Polecat ’spon’, ‘Hit’s me; open de do’.’

“Brer Rattlesnake say, ‘W’at you want?’

“Brer Polecat say, ‘Hit mighty cool out yer.’

“Brer Rattlesnake ’low, ‘Dat w’at I year folks say.’

“Brer Polecat up en ’spon’, sezee, ‘Hit too col’ fer ter stan’ out yer.’

“‘Dat w’at I year tell,’ says Brer Rattlesnake, sezee.

“‘I wanter come in dar whar hit’s warm,’ says Brer Polecat, sezee.

“Brer Rattlesnake ’low dat two in dat house would be a big crowd.

“Brer Polecat say he got de name er bein’ a mighty good housekeeper.

“Brer Rattlesnake say hit mighty easy fer anybody fer ter keep tother folks’ house.

“Brer Polecat say he gwine come in anyhow.

“Brer Rattlesnake ’low, ‘Dey ain’t no room in yer fer you.’

“Brer Polecat laugh en say: ‘Shoo, Brer Rattlesnake! eve’ybody gives me room. I go ’long de road, I does, en meet Mr. Man. I walks right todes ’im, en he bleege ter gi’ me room. I meet all de critturs, en dey bleege ter gi’ me room.’

“Brer Rattlesnake say, ‘Dat w’at I year tell.’

“Brer Polecat ’low, ‘Don’t you pester yo’se’f ’bout room. You des lemme git in dar whar you is, en _I’ll make room_!’

“Wid dat Brer Rattlesnake shot de do’ er his house en sprung de latch, en atter so long a time Brer Polecat went pacin’ off some’rs else.”

HOW THE BIRDS TALK

Uncle Remus was not a “field hand”; that is to say, he was not required to plow and hoe and engage in the rough work on the plantation.

It was his business to keep matters and things straight about the house, and to drive the carriage when necessary. He was the confidential family servant, his attitude and his actions showing that he considered himself a partner in the various interests of the plantation. He did no great amount of work, but he was never wholly idle. He tanned leather, he made shoes, he manufactured horse-collars, fish-baskets, foot-mats, scouring-mops, and ax-handles for sale; he had his own watermelon- and cotton-patches; he fed the hogs, looked after the cows and sheep, and, in short, was the busiest person on the plantation.

He was reasonably vain of his importance, and the other negroes treated him with great consideration. They found it to their advantage to do so, for Uncle Remus was not without influence with his master and mistress. It would be difficult to describe, to the satisfaction of those not familiar with some of the developments of slavery in the South, the peculiar relations existing between Uncle Remus and his mistress, whom he called “Miss Sally.” He had taken care of her when she was a child, and he still regarded her as a child.

He was dictatorial, overbearing and quarrelsome. These words do not describe Uncle Remus’s attitude, but no other words will do. Though he was dictatorial, overbearing and quarrelsome, he was not even grim. Beneath everything he said there was a current of respect and affection that was thoroughly understood and appreciated. All his quarrels with his mistress were about trifles, and his dictatorial bearing was inconsequential. The old man’s disputes with his “Miss Sally” were thoroughly amusing to his master, and the latter, when appealed to, generally gave a decision favorable to Uncle Remus.