WELL, Uncle Remus, said the little boy, counting to see if he
hadnt lost a marble somewhere, the Bear didnt catch the Rabbit
after all, did he?
Now you talkin, honey, replied the old man, his earnest face
breaking up into little eddies of smilesnow you talkin sho. Taint
bin proned inter no Brer Bar fer ter kotch Brer Rabbit. Hit sorter
like settin a mule fer ter trap a hummin-bird. But Brer Bar, he
tuckn got hissef inter some mo trubble, wich it look like it
mighty easy. Ef folks could make der livin longer gittin inter
trubble, continued the old man, looking curiously at the little boy,
ole Miss Favers wouldnt be boddern yo ma fer ter borry a cup
full er sugar evey now en den; en it look like ter me dat I knows a
nigger dat wouldnt be squattin roun yer makin dese yer
How did the Bear get into more trouble, Uncle Remus? asked
the little boy.
Natchul, honey. Brer Bar, he tuck a notion dat ole Brer
Bull-frog wuz de man wat fool im, en he say dat hed come up wid
im ef twuz a year atterwuds. But twant no year, an twant no
mont, en mon dat, hit want skasely a week, wen bimeby one day
Brer Bar wuz gwine home fum de takin un a bee-tree, en lo en
beholes, who should he see but ole Brer Bull-frog settin out on de
aidge er de mud-muddle fas sleep! Brer Bar drap his axe, he did,
en crope up, en retch out wid his paw, en scoop ole Brer Bull-frog
in des dis away. Here the old man used his hand ladle-fashion, by
way of illustration. He scoop im in, en dar he wuz. Wen Brer Bar
got his dampers on im good, he sot down en talk at im.
Howdy, Brer Bull-frog, howdy! En how yo fambly? I hope deyer
well, Brer Bull-frog, kaze dis day you got some bizness wid me
watll las you a mighty long time.
Brer Bull-frog, he dunner wat ter say. He dunner wats up, en he
dont say nuthin. Ole Brer Bar he keep runnin on:
Youer de man wat tuck en fool me bout Brer Rabbit ter day.
You had yo fun, Brer Bull-frog, en now Ill git mine.
Den Brer Bull-frog, he gin ter git skeerd, he did, en he upn say:
Wat I bin doin, Brer Bar? How I bin foolin you?
Den Brer Bar laff, en make like he dunno, but he keep on talkin.
Oh, no, Brer Bull-frog! You aint de man wat stick yo head up
outn de water en tell me Brer Rabbit done gone on by. Oh, no! you
aint de man. I bonn you aint, bout dat time, you wuz at home
with yo fambly, whar you allers is. I dunner whar you wuz, but I
knows whar you is, Brer Bull-frog, en hits you en me fer it. Atter
de sun goes down dis day you dont fool no mo folks gwine long
Cose, Brer Bull-frog dunner wat Brer Bar drivin at, but he know
sumpn hatter be done, en dat mighty soon, kaze Brer Bar gun to
snap his jaws tergedder en foam at de mouf, en Brer Bull-frog
Oh, pray, Brer Bar! Lemme off dis time, en I wont never do so
no mo. Oh, pray, Brer Bar! do lemme off dis time, en Ill show
you de fattes bee-tree in de woods.
Ole Brer Bar, he chomp his toofies en foam at de mouf. Brer
Bull-frog he des upn squall:
Oh, pray, Brer Bar! I wont never do so no mo! Oh, pray, Brer
Bar! Lenune off dis time!
But ole Brer Bar say he gwineter make way wid im, en den he sot
en study, ole Brer Bar did, how he gwineter squench Brer
Bull-frog. He know he cant drown im, en he aint got no fier fer
ter bun im, en he git mighty pestered. Bimeby ole Brer Bull-frog,
he sorter stop his cryin en his boo-hooin, en he upn say:
Ef you gwineter kill me, Brer Bar, kyar me ter dat big flat rock
out dar on de aidge er de mill-pon, whar I kin see my fambly, en
atter I see urn, den you kin take you axe en sqush me.
Dis look so far and squar dat Brer Bar he gree, en he take ole
Brer Bull-frog by wunner his behime legs, en sling his axe on his
shouder, en off he put fer de big flat rock. When he git dar he lay
Brer Bullfrog down on de rock, en Brer Bull-frog make like he
lookin roun fer his folks. Den Brer Bar, he draw long breff en
pick up his axe. Den he spit in his hans en draw back en come
down on de rock-pow!
Did he kill the Frog, Uncle Remus? asked the little boy, as the
old man paused to scoop up a thimbleful of glowing embers in his
Deed, en dat he didnt, honey. twix de time wen Brer Bar raise
up wid his axe en wen he come down wid it, ole Brer Bull-frog he
lipt up en dove down in de mill-pon, kerblink-kerblunk! En wen
he riz way out in de pon he riz a singin, en dish yers de song wat
Ingle-go-jang, my joy, my joy|
Ingle-go-jang, my joy!
Im right at home, my joy, my joy
Ingle-go-jang, my joy!
Thats a mighty funny song, said the little boy.
Funny now, I speck, said the old man, but twernt funny in dem
days, en twouldnt be funny now ef folks knowd much bout de
Bull-frog langwidge ez dey useter. Dats wat.