“Brer Rabbit slap hisse’f on de leg an’ laugh fit ter kill. He ain’t make fuss nuff fer ter wake Mr. Man, but he woke de fat hens an’ de slick pullets, an’ dey ax one an’er what de name er goodness is de matter. Brer Rabbit laugh an’ say ter hisse’f dat ef he’d ’a’ brung a bag, it’d make a good overcoat fer four er five er de fat hens, an’ six er sev’m er de slick pullets. Den he ’low, ‘Why, what is I thinkin’ ’bout? I got a bag in my han’, an’ I fergit dat I had it. It’s mighty lucky fer de chickens dat I fotch it, kaze a little mo’—an’ dey’d ’a’ been friz stiff!’ So he scoop in de bag ez many ez he kin tote. He ’low, ‘I’ll take um home an’ kinder git um warm, an’ ter-morrer Mr. Man kin have um back—ef he want um.’ an’ wid dat he mighty nigh choke hisse’f tryin’ fer ter keep fum laughin’. De chickens kinder flutter, but dey ain’t make much fuss, an’ Brer Rabbit flung de sack ’cross his shoulders an’ went off home des ez gayly ez a colt in a barley patch.”

“Wouldn’t you call that stealing, Uncle Remus?” inquired the little boy very seriously.

“Ef Brer Rabbit had ’a’ been folks, it’d be called stealin’, but you know mighty well dat de creeturs dunno de diffunce ’twix’ takin’ an’ stealin’. When it come ter dat, dey’s a-plenty folks dat ain’t know de diffunce, an’ how you gwineter blame de creeturs?” Uncle Remus paused to see what comment the little boy would make, but he was silent, though it is doubtful if he was satisfied.

“Brer Rabbit tuck de chickens on home, he did, an’ made way wid um. Now, dat wuz de las’ er de chickens, but des de beginnin’s er de feathers. Ol’ Miss Rabbit, she wanter burn um in de fier, but Brer Rabbit say de whole neighborhood would smell um, an’ he ’low dat he got a better way dan dat. So, nex’ mornin’ atter brekkus, he borried a bag fum ol’ Brer Wolf, an’ inter dis he stuff de feathers, an’ start off down de road.

“Well, suh, ez luck would have it, Brer Rabbit hatter pass by Brer Fox house, an’ who should be stannin’ at de gate wid his walkin’-cane in han’, but Brer Fox? Brer Fox, he fetched a bow, wid, ‘Brer Rabbit, whar you gwine?’ Brer Rabbit ’low, ‘Ef I had de win’, Brer Fox, I’d be gwine to mill. Dish yer’s a turrible load I got, an’ I dunner how soon I’ll gi’ out. I ain’t strong in de back an’ limber in de knees like I useter be, Brer Fox. You may be holdin’ yo’ own, an’ I hope you is, but I’m on de down grade, dey ain’t no two ways ’bout dat.’ Wid dat, he sot de bag down by de side er de road, an’ wipe his face wid his hankcher.

“Brer Fox, he come on whar Brer Rabbit wuz a-settin’ at, an’ ax ef it’s corn er wheat. Brer Rabbit ’low dat tain’t na’er one; it’s des some stuff dat he gwine ter sell ter de miller. Brer Fox, he want ter know what ’tis so bad he ain’t know what ter do, an’ he up an’ ax Brer Rabbit p’intedly. Brer Rabbit say he fear’d ter tell ’im kaze de truck what he got in de bag is de onliest way he kin make big money. Brer Fox vow he won’t tell nobody, an’ den Brer Rabbit say dat bein’ ez him an’ Brer Fox is sech good frien’s—neighbors, ez you might say—he don’t min’ tellin’ ’im, kaze he know dat atter Brer Fox done prommus, he won’t breave a word ’bout it. Den he say dat de truck what he got in de bag is roots er de Winniannimus grass, an’ when deyer groun’ up at de mill, dey er wuff nine dollars a poun’.

“Dis make Brer Fox open his eyes. He felt de heft er de bag, he did, an’ he say dat it’s mighty light, an’ he dunner what make Brer Rabbit pant an’ grunt when ’tain’t no heftier dan what it is.

“Brer Rabbit ’low dat de bag wouldn’t ’a’ felt heavy ter him ef he wuz big an’ strong like Brer Fox. Dat kinder talk make Brer Fox feel biggity, an’ he ’low dat he’ll tote de bag ter mill ef Brer Rabbit feel like it’s too heavy. Brer Rabbit say he’ll be mighty much erbleeged, an’ be glad fer ter pay Brer Fox sump’n ter boot. An’ so, off dey put down de road, Brer Fox a-trottin’ an’ Brer Rabbit gwine in a canter.

“Brer Fox ax what dey does wid de Winniannimus grass atter dey gits it groun’ up at de mill. Brer Rabbit ’low dat rich folks buys it fer ter make Whipmewhopme puddin’. Brer Fox say he’ll take some home when de miller git it groun’ an’ see how it tas’es, an’ Brer Rabbit say he’s mo’ dan welcome. Atter dey been gwine on some little time, Brer Rabbit look back an’ see Mr. Man a-comin’, an’ he say ter Brer Fox, sezee, ‘Brer Fox, you is de outdoinist man I ever is see. You done got me plum’ wo’ out, an’ I’m bleeze ter take a res’. You go on an’ I’ll ketch up wid you ef I kin; ef not, des wait fer me at de mill.’ Brer Fox ’low, ‘Shucks, Brer Rabbit! you ain’t ’quainted wid me; you dunner nothin’ ’tall ’bout me. I kin go on dis a-way all day long an’ half de night.’ Brer Rabbit roll his big eyes, an’ say, ‘Well, suh!’

“An’ den he sot down by de side er de road, an’ ’twuz all he kin do fer ter keep fum bustin’ out in a big laugh.

“Bimeby, Mr. Man come ’long an’ say, ‘Who dat wid de big bag on his back?’ Brer Rabbit make answer dat it’s Brer Fox. Mr. Man say, ‘What he got in his bag?’ Brer Rabbit ’low, ‘I ax ’im, an’ he say it’s some kinder grass what he takin’ ter de mill fer ter git groun’, but I seed mo’ dan one chicken feather stickin’ ter de bag.’ Mr. Man say, ‘Den he’s de chap what tuck an’ tuck my fat hens an’ my slick pullets, an’ I’ll make ’im sorry dat he yever is see a chicken.’

“Wid dat he put out atter Brer Fox, an’ Brer Rabbit, he put out too, but he stay in de bushes, so dat nobody can’t see ’im. Mr. Man he cotch up wid Brer Fox, an’ ax ’im what he got in de bag. Brer Fox say he got Winniannimus grass what he gwineter have groun’ at de mill. Mr. Man say he wanter see what Winniannimus grass look like. Brer Fox sot de bag down an’ say dat when it’s groun’ up de rich folks buys it fer ter make Whipmewhopme puddin’. Mr. Man open de bag, an’ dey wa’n’t nothin’ in it but chicken feathers. He ’low, ‘Whipmewhopme puddin’! I’ll whip you an’ whop you,’ an’ wid dat he grab Brer Fox in de collar, an’ mighty nigh frailed de life out’n ’im.

“Brer Rabbit seed it well done, an’ he des fell down in de bushes an’ roll an’ laugh twel he can’t laugh no mo’.”

“Well, I don’t see why he should think it was funny,” the little boy remarked.

Uncle Remus looked hard at this modern little boy before he answered: “Maybe you dunno Brer Fox, honey; I don’t speck you hear talk er de way he try ter git de inturn on Brer Rabbit. But on top er dat, Brer Rabbit wuz so ticklish dat mos’ anything would make ’im laugh. It sholy wuz scan’lous de way Brer Rabbit kin laugh.”

V
LITTLE MISTER CRICKET AND THE OTHER CREATURES

Uncle Remus was very anxious to know what the child thought about the story of Brother Rabbit and the chicken feathers, but he made no inquiries; he was willing to let the youngster’s preferences show themselves without any urging on his part.

When the little boy did speak, he made no reference to Brother Rabbit and the chicken feathers: his thoughts were elsewhere. “Uncle Remus,” he said, “I never saw a cricket. What do they look like?”

“You ain’t never see no cricket!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, with a great display of amazement. “Well, dat bangs my time! What yo’ ma an’ pa—speshually yo’ pa—what dey been doin’ all deze lonesome years dat they ain’t never show’d you no cricket? How dey speck you ter git ’long in de worl’ ef dey ain’t gwine ter tell you ’bout de things you oughter know, an’ show you de things dat you oughter see? You ain’t never see no cricket, an’ here you is mos’ ready ter shave off de down on your face!”

The child blushed. “Why, I have no down on my face, Uncle Remus,” he protested.

“Well, you will have some er deze days, an’ den what will folks think uv a great big man what ain’t never seed no cricket?”

“Mother has never seen one,” replied the little boy, somewhat triumphantly.

“She’s a lady,” Uncle Remus explained, “an’ dat’s diffunt. She been brung up in ’Lantamatantarum, an’ I speck she’d fall down an’ faint ef she wuz ter see one. Folks ain’t like dey use ter be; in my day an’ time, ef man er boy wuz ter say dat he ain’t never seed no cricket, dem what he tol’ de news ter would git up an’ go ’way fum ’im; but deze days I boun’ you dey’d huddle up close ’roun’ ’im, an’ j’ine in wid ’im, an’ say dey ain’t never is seed one nudder.”

“If you had never seen one, you wouldn’t talk that way, Uncle Remus,” remarked the little boy quite seriously. “How can I help myself, if I have never seen one? It isn’t my fault, is it?”

“Tooby sho’ it ain’t, honey. Nobody ain’t blamin’ you. Yit when I see a great big boy what ain’t never seed no cricket, I bleeze ter ax myse’f whar he come fum an’ what he been doin’. I boun’ ef you’d ’a’ been wid yo’ gran’mammy an me you’d ’a’ seed crickets twel you got tired er seein’ um. Dat’s de kinder folks we-all is. ’Tain’t no trouble ter we-all ter show chillun what dey oughter see. I bet you, you’ pa know’d what a cricket wuz long ’fo’ he wuz ol’ ez you is. Dey wa’n’t nothin’ fer ter hender ’im. Miss Sally des turned ’im over ter me, an’ say, ‘Don’t let ’im git hurted,’ an’ dar he wuz. Ef he ain’t seed all dey wuz ter be seed, it ’uz kaze it ’uz in a show, an’ de show in town whar he can’t git at it. Dat’s de way we done wid him, an’ dat’s de way I’d like ter do wid you. It’s a mighty pity you wa’n’t brung up here at home, stidder up dar in ’Lantamatantarum, whar dey ain’t nothin’ ’tall but dust, an’ mud, an’ money. De folks up dar ain’t want de mud an’ dust, an’ de mo’ dey wash it off de mo’ dey gits on um; but dey does want de money, an’ de mo’ dey scuffles fer it, de mo’ dey has ter scuffle.”

“Is a cricket like a grasshopper, Uncle Remus?” inquired the little boy, who took no interest in the old man’s prejudice against Atlanta.

“Dey mos’ly is, an’ den ag’in dey mos’ly ain’t. Befo’ de time dat ol’ Grandaddy Cricket kick down de chimbley, dey wa’n’t no mo’ like grasshoppers dan I’m like a steer, but atter dat, when he git his knees on wrongsudouterds, dey sorter look like grasshoppers ’cepin’ when you look at um right close, an’ den dey don’t look like um.

“Dey got lots mo’ sense dan de yuther crawlin’ an’ hoppin’ creeturs. Dey ought not ter be put wid de hoppin’ creeturs, kaze dey don’t b’long wid ’um, an’ dey wouldn’t be a-hoppin’ in deze days ef ol’ Grandaddy Cricket hadn’t ’a’ got cripple’ when he kick de chimbley down. In de times when ol’ Boss Elephant, an’ Brer Lion, an’ Brer Tiger wuz meanderin’ roun’ in deze parts, little Mr. Cricket wuz on mighty good terms wid um. Ez dey say er folks, he stood mighty well whar dey know’d ’im—mighty well—an’ he wuz ’bout de sharpes’ er de whole caboodle, ef you’ll leave out de name er Brer Rabbit.

“It come ’bout one time dat de creeturs wuz all sunnin’ deyse’f—it mought er been Sunday fer all I know—an’ dey des stretch out an’ sot an’ sot roun’ lickin’ der chops, an’ blinkin’ der eyes, an’ combin’ der ha’r. Mr. Elephant wuz swingin’ hisse’f backerds an’ forerds, an’ flingin’ de san’ on his back fer ter keep off de flies, an’ all de res’ wuz gwine on ’cordin’ ter der breed an’ need.

“Ef you’ll watch right close, honey, you’ll fin’ out fer yo’se’f dat when folks ain’t got much ter do, an’ little er nothin’ fer ter talk ’bout, dey’ll soon git ter braggin’, an’ dat’s des de way wid de creeturs. Brer Fox start it up; he say, ‘Gents, ’fo’ I fergit it off ’n my min’, I wanter tell you dat I’m de swiffes’ one in dis bunch.’ Mr. Elephant wink one er his little eyeballs, an’ fling his snout in de a’r an’ whispered—an’ you mought ’a’ hearn dat whisper a mile—‘I’m de strenkiest; I wanter call yo’ ’tention ter dat.’ Mr. Lion shuck his mane an’ showed his tushes. He say, ‘Don’t fergit dat I’m de King er all de creetur tribe.’ Mr. Tiger stretched hisse’f an’ gap’d. He say, ‘I’m de purtiest an’ de mos’ servigrous.’

“Fum one ter de yuther de braggin’ went roun’. Ef ’twant dis it uz dat, an’ ef ’twant dat, ’twuz de yuther. Dey went on so twel bimeby little Mr. Cricket chirped up an’ say he kin make all un um run dey heads off, fum ol’ Mr. Elephant down ter de las’ one. Dey all laugh like it’s a good joke, an’ Brer Fox he ’low dat he had de idee dat dey wuz all doin’ some monstus tall braggin’, but Mr. Cricket wuz away ahead er de whole gang, an’ den he say, ‘How you gwineter begin fer ter commence fer ter do all deze great deeds an’ didoes?’ Mr. Cricket say, ‘Des gi’ me time; gi’ me time, an’ yo’ll all hear fum me—yo’ll hear, but you won’t stop fer ter lis’n’, an’ den he work his jaws fer all de worl’ like Brer Rabbit does when he’s chawin’ terbacker.

“Now, ol’ Brer Rabbit know’d dat Mr. Cricket wuz up ter some sharp trick er n’er, an’ so he wait twel he kin have a confab wid ’im. He ain’t had long ter wait, kaze Mr. Crickley Cricket make up his min’ dat Brer Rabbit wuz de one what kin he’p him out. Dey bofe wanter see one an’er, an’ when dat’s de case, dey ain’t much trouble ’bout it. Dey soon got off by deyse’f, an’ Brer Rabbit ’low dat Mr. Cricket got a mighty big job on his han’s, an’ Mr. Cricket, he say it’s sech a big job dat he can’t git thoo wid it less’n Brer Rabbit will he’p ’im out. Mr. Cricket say ’tain’t much he gwine ter ax er Brer Rabbit, but little ez ’tis, he bleeze ter ax it. Brer Rabbit look at ’im right hard an’ twis’ his mustache. ‘Out wid it, Mr. Cricket; out wid it, an’ I’ll see ef I kin he’p you out. But I want you ter take notice dat all de yuthers is got a crow fer ter pick wid me, on account er de way I been doin’.’

Mr. Cricket chirp up, ‘So I hear, Brer Rabbit—so I hear,’ an’ den he went on fer ter tell Brer Rabbit what he want ’im ter do. Brer Rabbit laugh, he did, an’ say, ‘Ef dat’s all you want, Mr. Cricket, you kin count me in, kaze I laid off fer ter he’p you lot’s mo’ dan dat—lots mo’.’ Mr. Cricket say dat’ll be de greates’ plenty, an’ wid dat dey went off home fer ter kinder res’ deyse’f, but not ’fo’ dey fix on a day when dey’ll have time fer ter work der trick on de yuther creeturs.

“Dey ’greed on de day, an’ dat day dey met, an’ atter colloguin’ tergedder, off dey put ter de place whar dey ’spected ter fin’ de yuther creeturs. De fust one dey meet wuz ol’ Mr. Elephant. Dey pass de time er day, dey did, an’ Brer Rabbit say he got bad news. Mr. Elephant flung up his snout like he ’stonish’d, an’ swung backerd an’ forerds like he ’bout ter cry. Brer Rabbit ’low dat de win’ blow’d a hick’y-nut down right ’pon top er Mr. Cricket an’ cripple ’im so he can’t go home, an’ he ax ef Mr. Elephant won’t tote ’im ez fur ez he kin. Mr. Elephant say tooby sho’ he will an’ be glad in de bargain, an’ so he kneel down, he did, an’ let Mr. Cricket crawl on his back.

“But Mr. Cricket crawl furder dan de back; he crawl on Mr. Elephant neck, an’ den inter his y’ear. Dis whar he wanter git, an’ soon ez he got settle, he flutter his wings right fas’ an’ Mr. Elephant think de win’ is blowin’ thoo de trees. Mr. Cricket flutter his wings harder, an’ Mr. Elephant think dey’s a storm cornin’ up. He splunge thoo de bushes, he did, an’ ef Mr. Cricket hadn’t ’a’ been inside his year, he’d ’a’ been knocked off by de lim’s er de trees. Ez ’twuz, he sot back an’ laugh, an’ say ter hisse’f dat Mr. Elephant ain’t hear nothin’ ’tall ter what he will hear.

“Wid dat, he chune up his whistle, an’ started fer ter blow on it. He blow’d kinder low ter begin wid, an’ den he ’gun ter git louder. An’ de louder he got de mo’ he skeer’d Mr. Elephant, an’ he went splungin’ thoo de woods same ez a harrycane. He went so fas’ dat he come mighty nigh runnin’ over King Lion whiles he wuz talkin’ ter ol’ Brer Tiger. He ain’t hear ’um say, ‘Mr. Elephant, whar you gwine?’ but he stop right whar dey wuz an’ ’gun ter turn roun’ an’ roun’. King Lion ax ’im what de matter, an’ Mr. Elephant say he b’lieve he gwine ravin’ ’stracted. He ’low, ‘I got a singin’ an’ a whistlin’ in one er my years, an’ I dunner which un it’s in. Don’t you-all hear it?’

“Dey lis’n, dey did, an’ bless gracious, dey kin hear it. Ol’ King Lion look like he ’stonished. He say, ‘It soun’s fer all de worl’, Mr. Elephant, like you des ’bout ter bile over, an’ ef dat’s what yer gwine ter do, I wanter be out’n de way—clean out’n de way.’

“Mr. Elephant turn roun’ an’ roun’, he did, an’ ef he’d ’a’ been light-headed like some folks I knows, he’d ’a’ drapt right dar. Mr. Cricket watch his chance, an’ when Mr. Elephant got nigh ter King Lion, he tuck a flyin’ jump an’ lit right in King Lion’s mane, an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he made his way ter de year. But while he wuz makin’ his way dar Mr. Elephant stopped whirlin’ roun’; he stop an’ lis’n, he did, an’ he ain’t hear nothin’; he lis’n some mo’ an’ still he ain’t hear nothin’. He say, ‘I b’lieve in my soul dat I’m kyo’d! I’m mighty glad I met you-all, kaze I know one un you is a doctor, an’ ever which un it is, he sho’ has done de work.’

“By dis time, Mr. Cricket had got in King Lion year, an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he start up his whistlin’. He whistle low fer ter start wid, an’ King Lion hol’ his head sideways an’ lis’n. He say, ‘I still hears it, Mr. Elephant, an’ ef youer kyo’d I done cotch de thing you had.’ Mr. Cricket went a little louder, an’ King Lion ’gun ter back off like he had business ter ten’ ter. Mr. Tiger say, ‘Whar you gwine? I hope you ain’t skeer’d er Brer Elephant, kaze he ain’t gwineter hurt you. Ef you gwine any whar, you better turn ’roun’ an’ go right.’

“But King Lion ain’t pay no ’tention ter Mr. Tiger; he des back off, he did, an’ wave his tail an’ shake his mane. Mr. Cricket ’gun ter whistle louder an’ flutter his wings, an’ make um zoon like a locus’. King Lion say, ‘I hear de win’ a-blowin’ an’ I better git home ter my wife an’ chillun,’ an’ off he put, runnin’ like he wuz gwine atter de doctor. Mr. Tiger laugh, an’ say dat some folks is so funny he dunner what ter make un um. Dey stayed dar confabbin’, an’ bimeby dey hear a fuss, an’ here come King Lion gwine ez hard ez he kin. Tryin’ fer ter git away fum de fuss in his year, he had run all roun’ twel he come back ag’in ter whar he start fum. He had his tongue out, an’ his tail wuz droopin’; he wuz mighty nigh wo’ out.

“He say, ‘Heyo! what you-all doin’ here? I had de idee dat I lef’ you back yander whar I come fum.’ Mr. Elephant ’low, ‘We ain’t skacely move out ’n our tracks. You run away an’ lef’ us, an’ here you is back; what de name er goodness is de matter wid you?’ King Lion say, ‘I done got a whistlin’ in my head, an’ look like I can’t ’scape fum it. It’s in dar yit, an’ I dunner what I’m gwine ter do ’bout it.’ Mr. Elephant say, ‘Do like I done—stan’ it de bes’ you kin.’ Brer Tiger ’low, ‘I hear it, an’ it soun’ zactly like you wuz ’bout ter bile over, an’ when you does I wanter be out’n de way.’

“By dat time little Mr. Cricket had done made a flyin’ jump an’ lit on Mr. Tiger, an’ ’twant long ’fo’ he wuz snug in Mr. Tiger year. Mr. Tiger lis’n, he did, an’ den he ’gun ter back off an’ wave his tail. Mr. Elephant swing his snout, an’ say, ‘What de matter, Mr. Tiger? I hope you ain’t thinkin’ ’bout leavin’ us.’ But Mr. Tiger wuz done gone. He des flit away. Long ’bout dat time, Mr. Rabbit come lopin’ up, laughin’ fit ter kill. He ’low, ‘Brer Cricket say he gwine ter make you-all run an’ dat’s des what he done. Bofe un you been runnin’ kaze I see you pantin’, an’ ef you’ll des wait here, Mr. Cricket will fetch Mr. Tiger back safe an’ soun’,’ an’ dey ain’t had ter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby, here come Mr. Tiger, tongue out an’ tail a-droopin’. He say, ‘Hello! how come you-all ter outrun me? I got de idee dat you wuz back yander in de woods whar I come fum,’ an’ den dey got ter laughin’ at ’im, an’ dey laugh twel dey can’t laugh no mo’. Mr. Cricket jump outer Mr. Tiger’s year, an’ git in de grass, an’ bimeby he show hisse’f.

“He come close up wid a ‘Howdy do, gents?’ an’ dey pass de time day wid ’im. Bimeby Mr. Elephant ’low, ‘Mr. Cricket, ain’t you say de yuther day dat you wuz gwineter make we-all run?’ an’ Mr. Cricket, he make answer, ‘Why, I wouldn’t talk ’bout runnin’ ef I’d been runnin’ same ez what you been doin’.’ Mr. Elephant swing his snout kinder slow an’ say, ‘How you know I been runnin’?’ Mr. Cricket ’low, ‘I know bekaze ef I hadn’t er helt on monstus tight, I’d ’a’ fell off; mo’ dan dat, ef I hadn’t er stopped singin’ an’ whistlin’ you’d ’a’ been runnin’ yit.’ Mr. Elephant shot his two little eyes, an’ say, ‘Well, suh!’”

“What did the others do?” the little boy inquired, when he was sure that the story was ended.

“Dey mos’ly got ’way fum dem parts, kaze dey wuz skeer’d Mr. Cricket would git on um ag’in. King Lion say he got ter look atter some fresh meat what he got, Mr. Elephant say he bleeze ter go an’ cut some grass, an’ Mr. Tiger ’low dat he got ter hunt up some vittles fer his fambly. An’ ez fer Mr. Cricket, he clomb on Brer Rabbit’s back, an’ dey mosied off somers, I dunner whar. All I know is dat dey giggle ez dey went.”

VI
WHEN BROTHER RABBIT WAS KING

One afternoon, while Uncle Remus was sitting in the sun, he felt so comfortable and thankful for all the blessings that he enjoyed, and for those that he had seen others enjoy, that he suddenly closed his eyes; and he had no sooner done so than he drifted across the dim and pleasant borderland that lies somewhere between sleeping and waking. He must have drifted back again immediately, for it seemed that he was not so fast asleep that he was unable to hear the sound of stealthy footsteps somewhere near him. Instantly he was on the alert, but still kept his eyes closed. He knew at once that the little boy was trying to surprise him. The lad had improved much in health since coming to the plantation, and with the growth of his strength had come a certain degree of boisterousness that his mother thought was somewhat unusual, but which his grandmother and Uncle Remus knew was the natural result of good health.

By opening one eye a trifle, Uncle Remus could watch the youngster, who was creeping, Indian-like, upon him, and this gave the old negro an immense advantage, for just as the little boy was about to jump at him, Uncle Remus straightened himself in his chair and uttered a blood-curdling yell that would have alarmed a much larger and older person than the lad. As a matter of fact, the little fellow was almost paralyzed with fright, and for a moment or two could hardly get his breath.

“Why, what in the world is the matter with you, Uncle Remus?” he asked as soon as he could speak.

“Wuz dat you comin’ ’long dar, honey?” said Uncle Remus, by way of response. “Well, ef ’twuz, you kin des go up dar ter de big house an’ tell um all dat you saved my life, kaze dat what you done. Dey ain’t no tellin’ what would ’a’ happen ef you hadn’t ’a’ come creepin’ ’long an’ woke me up, kaze whiles I wuz dozin’ dar I wuz on a train, an’ de bullgine look like it wuz runnin’ away. ’Twant one er deze yer ’commydatin’ trains, kaze de man what tuck up de tickets say he wa’n’t in no hurry fer ter see how fur anybody gwine; dey wuz all boun’ fer de same place, an’ when dey got dar dey’d know it. De kyars wuz lined wid caliker, an’ de brakeman wuz made out’n straw. It went on, it did, an’ de bullgine run faster an’ faster twel it run so fast you couldn’t hear it toot fer brakes, an’ des ’bout de time dat eve’ything wuz a gittin’ smashed up, here you come an’ wokened me—an’ a mighty good thing, kaze ef I’d ’a’ stayed on dat train dey wouldn’t ’a’ been ’nough er me left fer de congergation ter sing a song over. I’m mighty thankful dat dey’s somebody got sense ’nough fer ter come ’long an’ skeer me out er my troubles.”

This statement was intended to change the course of the little boy’s thoughts—to cause him to forget that he had been frightened—and it was quite successful, for he began to talk about dreams in general, telling some peculiar ones of his own, such as children have.

“Talkin’ ’bout dreams,” remarked Uncle Remus, “it put me in min’ er de man what been sick off an’ on, an’ he hatter be mighty keerful er his eatin’. One night he had a dream. It seemed like dat somebody come ’long an’ gi’ him a great big hunk er ol’ time ginger-cake, an’ it smell so sweet an’ taste so good dat he e’t ’bout a poun’. He wuz eatin’ it in his sleep, but de dream wuz so natchal dat de nex’ mornin’ dey hatter sen’ fer de doctor, an’ ’twuz e’en ’bout all dey could do fer ter pull ’im thoo. De doctor gun ’im all de truck what he had in his saddle-bags, an’ ’low dat he b’lieve in his soul he’d hatter sen’ fer mo’, an’ den atter dat he tuck an’ lay down de law ter de man. He say dat whatsomever else he mought do, he better not eat no ginger-cakes in his dreams, kaze de next un ’ud be sho’ fer ter take ’im off spite er all de doctor truck in de roun’ worl’.”

Then the little boy told of a dream he had had. It seems that he had slipped into the pantry, when no one was looking, and had taken a piece of apple-pie. It wasn’t stealing, he said, for he knew that if he asked his grandmother for a piece she would have given it to him; but he didn’t want to bother her while she was talking to the sewing-woman, and so he just went in the pantry and got it for himself. Perhaps he took a larger piece than his grandmother would have given him, but he had nothing to measure it by, and so he was compelled to guess how much she would have given him.

“I boun’ you stretched yo’ guesser, honey,” said Uncle Remus dryly.

The child admitted with a laugh that perhaps he had, and he was very sorry of it afterwards, for when he went to bed he dreamed that something scratched at his door and made such a fuss that he was obliged to get up and let it in. He didn’t wait to see what it was, but just flung the door open, and ran and jumped back in bed, pulling the cover over his head. In the dream he lay right still and listened. Everything was so quiet that he became curious, and finally ventured to look out from under the cover. Well, sir, the sight that he saw was enough, for between the door and the bed a big black dog was lying. He seemed to be very tired, for his tongue hung out long and red, and he was panting as though he had come a long way in a very short time.

Uncle Remus groaned in sympathy. The black dog that gallops through a dream with his tongue hanging out was one of his familiars. “I know dat dog,” he said. “He got a bunch er white on de een’ er his tail, an’ his eyeballs look like dey green in de dark. You call him an’ he’ll growl, call him ag’in, an’ he’ll howl. I’d know dat dog ef I wuz ter see him in de daytime—I’d know him so well dat I’d run an’ ax somebody fer ter please, suh, wake me up, an’ do it mighty quick.”

The little boy didn’t know anything about that; what he did know was that the dog in his dream, when he had rested himself, jumped up on the bed, and began to nose at the cover, and he seemed to get mad when he failed to pull it off the little boy. He tried and tried, and then he seized a corner of the counterpane, or the spread, or whatever you call it, and shook it with his teeth. When he grew tired of this, the little boy could hear him smelling all about over the bed, and then he knew the creature was hunting for the piece of apple-pie.

Uncle Remus agreed with the child about this. “’Cordin’ ter my notion,” he said, “when folks slip ’roun’ an’ take dat what don’t b’long ter um er dat what dey oughtn’t ter have by good rights, de big black dog is sho’ ter come ’roun’ growlin’ an’ smellin’ atter dey goes ter bed. Dey ain’t no two ways ’bout dat. Dey may not know it, dey may be too sleepy fer ter see ’im in der dreams, but de dog’s dar. Mo’ dan dat, dogs will growl an’ smell ’roun’ ef deyer in dreams er outer dreams. Dey got in de habits er smellin’ ’way back yander in de days when ol’ Brer Rabbit had tooken de place er de King one time when de King wanter go off down de country fishin’.”

The little boy seemed to be very much interested in this information, but while they were speaking of this curious habit that is common to dogs, a hound that had been raised on the place came into view. He was going at a gallop, as if he had important business to attend to, but when he had galloped past a large tree, he paused suddenly, and turned back to investigate it with his nose; and though he was entirely familiar with the tree, it seemed to be new to him now, for he smelled all around the trunk of it and was apparently much perplexed. Whatever information he received was sufficient to cause him to forget all about the business that had caused him to come galloping past the tree, for when his investigation had ended, he turned about and went back the way he had come.

“Now, you see dat, don’t you?” exclaimed Uncle Remus, with some show of indignation. “Ain’t it des a little mo’ dan you wanter stan’? Here he come, gwine, I dunner whar, des a-gallin’-up like he done been sent fer. He come ter dat ar tree, he did, an’ went on by—spang by!—an’ den ’fo’ you kin bat yo’ eyeball, whiff, he turn roun’ an’ go ter smellin’ at de tree, des like he ain’t never seed it befo’; an’ he must ’a’ got some kind er news whar he smellin’ at, kaze atter he smell twel it look like he gwineter smell de bark clean off, he fergit all ’bout whar he gwine, an’ tuck his tail an’ go on back whar he come fum. Maybe you know sump’n ’bout it, honey—you an’ de balance er de white folks, but me—I’m bofe blin’ an’ deff when it come ter tellin’ you what de dog foun’ out. I may know what make ’im smell at de tree, but what news he got I never is ter tell you.”

“Well, you know you said that dogs got in the habit of smelling away back yonder when old Brother Rabbit took the place of the King, who had gone fishing. I was wondering if that was a story.”

“Wuz you, honey?” Uncle Remus asked with a pleased smile. “Well, you sho’ is got a dumplin’ eye fer de kinder tales what I tells. I b’lieve ef I wuz ter take one er dem ol’-time tales an’ skin it an’ drag de hide thoo de house an’ roun’ de lot—ef I wuz ter do dat, I b’lieve you’d open up on de trail same ez ol’ Louder follerin’ on atter Brer Possum; I sho’ does!”

The child seemed to appreciate the compliment, and he laughed in a way that did the old negro a world of good. “I have found out one thing,” said the little boy with emphasis. “Whenever you are hinting at a story, you always look at me out of the corner of your eye, and there’s always a funny little wrinkle at the corner of your mouth.”

“Well, suh!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, gleefully; “well, suh! an’ me a-settin’ right here an’ doin’ dat a-way ’fo’ yo’ face an’ eyes! I never would ’a’ ’speckted it. Peepin’ out de cornder er my eyeball, an’ a-wrinklin’ at de mouf! It look like I mus’ be gettin’ ol’ an’ fibble in de min’.” He chuckled as proudly as if some one had given him a piece of pound-cake of which he was very fond. But presently his chuckling ceased, and he leaned back in his chair with a serious air.

“I dunno so mighty well ’bout all de yuther times you talkin’ ’bout, honey, but when I say what I did ’bout ol’ Brer Rabbit takin’ de place er der King, I sho’ had a tale in my min’. I say tale, but I dunner what you’ll say ’bout it; you kin name it atter you git it. Well, way back yander, mos’ ’fo’ de time when folks got in de habits er dreamin’ dreams, dey wuz a King an’ dish yer King king’d it over all un um what wuz dar, mo’ speshually de creeturs, kaze what folks dey wuz ain’t know nothin’ ’tall ’bout whedder dey need any kingin’ er not; look like dey didn’t count.

“Well, dish yer King what I’m a-tellin’ you ’bout had purty well grow’d up at de business, and de time come when he got mighty tired er settin’ in one place an’ hol’in’ a crown on his head fer ter keep it fum fallin’ on de flo’. He say ter hisse’f dat he wanter git out an’ git de fresh a’r, an’ have some fun ’long wid dem what he been kingin’ over. He ’low dat he wanter fix it so dat he ain’t a-keerin’ whedder school keep er no, an’ he ax um all what de best thing he kin do. Well, one say one thing an’ de yuther say t’other, but bimeby some un um chipped in an’ say dat de best way ter have fun is ter go fishin’, an’ dis kinder hit de King right in de middle er his notions.

“He jump up an’ crack his heels tergedder, he did, an’ he say dat dat’s what he been thinkin’ ’bout all de time. A-fishin’ it wuz an’ a-fishin’ he’d go, ef his life wuz spar’d twel he kin git ter de creek. An’, wid dat, dey wuz a mighty stirrin’ roun’ ’mongs’ dem what he wuz a-kingin’ over; some un um run off ter git fishin’-poles, an’ some run fer ter dig bait, an’ some run fer ter git de bottle, an’ dar dey had it—you’d ’a’ thunk dat all creation wuz gwine fishin’.”

“Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, interrupting the old man, “what did they want with a bottle?”

The old man looked at the child with a puzzled expression on his face. “De bottle?” he asked with a sigh. “I b’lieve I did say sump’n ’bout de bottle. I dunner whedder it ’uz a long white bottle er a chunky black un. Dem what handed de tale down ter me ain’t say what kinder one it wuz, an’ I’m fear’d ter say right short off dat it ’uz one er de yuther. We’ll des call it a plain, eve’yday bottle an’ let it go at dat.”

“But what did they want with a bottle, Uncle Remus?” persisted the little boy.

“You ain’t never been fishin’, is you honey? An’ you ain’t never see yo’ daddy go fishin’. All I know is dat whar dey’s any fishin’ gwine on, you’ll fin’ a bottle some’rs in de neighborhoods ef you’ll scratch about in de bushes. Well, de creeturs done like folks long ’fo’ folks got ter doin’ dat a-way, an’ when dish yer King went a-fishin’, he had ter have a bottle fer ter put de bait in.

“When eve’ything got good an’ ready, an’ de King wuz ’bout ter start off, ol’ Brer Rabbit kinder hung his head on one side an’ set up a snigger. De King, he look ’stonish an’ den he ’low, ‘What’s de joke, ol’ frien’?’ ‘Well,’ sez ol’ Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘it look like ter me dat you ’bout ter go off an’ fergit sump’n. ’Tain’t none er my business, but I couldn’t he’p fum gigglin’.’ De King, he say, ‘Up an’ out wid it, ol’ frien’; le’s hear de wust dey is ter hear.’ Ol’ Brer Rabbit, he say, sezee, ‘I dunner ef it makes any diffunce, but who gwine ter do de kingin’ whiles you gone a-fishin’?’

“Well, de King look like he wuz might’ly tuck back; he flung up bofe han’s an’ sot right flat in a cheer, an’ den he ’low, ‘I done got so dat I’m de fergittines’ creetur what live on top er de groun’; you may hunt high an’ low an’ you won’t never fin’ dem what kin beat me a-fergittin’. Here I wuz ’bout fer ter go off an’ leave de whole business at sixes an’ sev’ms.’ Ol’ Brer Rabbit, he say, sezee, ‘Oh, I speck dat would ’a’ been all right; dey ain’t likely ter be no harrycane, ner no fresh’ whiles you gone.’ De King, he ’low, ‘Dat ain’t de thing; here I wuz ’bout ter go off on a frolic an’ leave eve’ything fer ter look atter itse’f. What yo’ reckon folks would ’a’ said? I tell you now, dey ain’t no fun in bein’ a King, kaze yo’ time ain’t yo’ own, an’ you can’t turn roun’ widout skinnin’ yo’ shins on some by-law er ’nother. ’Fo’ I go, ef go I does, I got ter ’p’int somebody fer ter take my place an’ be King whiles I’m gone; an’ ef ’twant dat, it’d be sump’n’ else, an’ so dar you go year in an’ year out.’

“He sot dar, he did, an’ study an’ study, an’ bimeby he say, sezee, ‘Brer Rabbit, s’posin’ you take my place whiles I’m gone? I’ll pay you well; all you got to do is ter set right flat in a cheer an’ make a dollar a day.’ Ol’ Brer Rabbit say dat would suit him mighty well, kaze he bleeze fer ter have some money so he kin buy his ol’ ’oman a caliker dress. Well, it ain’t take um long fer ter fix it all up, an’ so Brer Rabbit, he done de kingin’ whiles de King gone a-fishin’. He made de job a mighty easy one, kaze stidder settin’ up an’ hol’in’ de crown on his head, he tied some strings on it an’ fix it so it’d stay on his head widout hol’in’.

“Well, when de King went a-fishin’, he went de back way, an’ he ain’t mo’ dan got out de gate twel ol’ Brer Rabbit hear a big rumpus in de front yard. He hear sump’n’ growlin’ an’ howlin’ an’ whinin’, an’ he ax what it wuz. Some er dem what wait on de King shuck der heads an’ say dat ef de King wuz dar he wouldn’t pay no ’tention ter de racket fer der longest; dey say dat de biggest kind er fuss ain’t ’sturb de King, kaze he’d des set right flat an’ wait fer some un ter come tell somebody what de rumpus is ’bout, an’ den dat yuther somebody would tell some un else, an’ maybe ’bout dinner-time de King would fin’ out what gwine on, when all he hatter do wuz ter look out de winder an’ see fer hisse’f.

“When ol’ Brer Rabbit hear dat, he lay back ez well ez he kin wid dat ar crown on top er his head, an’ make out he takin’ a nap. Atter so long a time, word come dat Mr. Dog wuz out dar in de entry whar dey all hatter wait at, an’ he sont word dat he bleeze ter see de King. Ol’ Brer Rabbit, he sot dar, he did, an’ do like he studyin’, an’ atter so long a time, he tell um fer ter fetch Mr. Dog in an’ let him say what he got ter say. Well, Mr. Dog come creepin’ in, he did, an’ he look mighty ’umble-come-tumble. He wuz so po’ dat it look like you can see eve’y bone in his body an’ he wuz mangy lookin’. His head hung down, an’ he wuz kinder shiverin’ like he wuz col’. Brer Rabbit make out he tryin’ fer ter fix de crown on his head so it’ll set up straight, but all de time he wuz lookin’ at Mr. Dog fer ter see ef he know’d ’im—an’ sho’ ’nough, he did, kaze it uz de same Mr. Dog what done give him many a long chase.

“Well, Mr. Dog, he stood dar wid his head hangin’ down an’ his tail ’tween his legs. Eve’ything wuz so still an’ sollum dat he ’gun ter git oneasy, an’ he look roun’ fer ter see ef dey’s any way fer ter git out widout runnin’ over somebody. Dey ain’t no way, an’ so Mr. Dog sorter wiggle de een’ er his tail fer ter show dat he ain’t mad, an’ he stood dar ’specktin’ dat eve’y minnit would be de nex’.

“Bimeby, somebody say, ‘Who dat wanter see de King an’ what business is he got wid ’im?’ When Mr. Dog hear dat, de howl dat he sot up mought ’a’ been heern a mile er mo’. He up an’ ’low, he did, dat him an’ all his tribe, an’ mo’ speshually his kinnery, is been havin’ de wuss times dat anybody ever is hear tell un. He say dat whar dey use ter git meat, dey now gits bones, an’ mighty few er dem, an’ whar dey use ter be fat, dey now has ter lean up ag’in de fence, an’ lean mighty hard, ef dey wanter make a shadder. Mr. Dog had lots mo’ ter say, but de long an’ de short un it wuz dat him an’ his kinnery wa’n’t treated right.

“Ol’ Brer Rabbit, which he playin’ King fer de day, he kinder study, an’ den he cle’r up his th’oat an’ look sollum. He ax ef dey’s any turkentime out dar in de back yard er in de cellar whar dey keep de harness grease, an’ when dey say dey speck dey’s a drap er two lef’, ol’ Brer Rabbit tell um fer ter fetch it in, an’ den he tell um ter git a poun’ er red pepper an’ mix it wid de turkentime. So said, so done. Dey grab Mr. Dog, an’ rub de turkentime an’ red pepper frum head ter heel, an’ when he holler dey run ’im out’n de place whar de kingin’ wuz done at.