ONE time, said Uncle Remus, sighing heavily and settling
himself back in his seat with an air of melancholy resiguationone
time Brer Rabbit wuz gwine long down de road shakin his big
bushy tail, en feelin des ez scrumpshus ez a bee-martin wid a fresh
bug. Here the old man paused and glanced at the little boy, but it
was evident that the youngster had become so accustomed to the
marvelous developments of Uncle Remuss stories, that the
extraordinary statement made no unusual impression upon him.
Therefore the old man began again, and this time in a louder and
more insinuating tone:
One time ole man Rabbit, he wuz gwine long down de road
shakin his long, bushy tail, en feelin mighty biggity.
This was effective.
Great goodiiess, Uncle Remus! exclaimed the little boy in
open-eyed wonder, everybody knows that rabbits havent got long,
The old man shifted his position in his chair and allowed his
venerable head to drop forward until his whole appearance was
suggestive of the deepest dejection; and this was intensified by a
groan that seemed to be the result of great mental agony. Finally he
spoke, but not as addressing himself to the little boy.
I notices dat dem fokes wat makes a great miration bout wat
dey knows is des de fokes wich you cant put no pennunce in wen
de cashun come up. Yer one un um now, en he done come en
excuse me er lowin dat rabbits is got long, bushy tails, wich
goodness knows ef Id a dremp it, Id a whirl in en on dremp it.
Well, but Uncle Remus, you said rabbits had long, bushy tails,
replied the little boy. Now you know you did.
Ef I aint fergit it offn my mine, I say dat ole Brer Rabbit wuz
gwine down de big road shakin his long, bushy tail. Dat wat I say,
en dat I stans by.
The little boy looked puzzled, but he didnt say anything. After a
while the old man continued:
Now, den, ef dats greed ter, Im gwine on, en ef taint greed ter,
den Im gwineter pick up my cane en look atter my own intrust. I
got wuk lyinroun yer dats des natally gittin moldy.
The little boy still remained quiet, and Uncle Remus proceeded:
One day Brer Rabbit wuz gwine down de road shakin his long,
bushy tail, wen who should he strike up wid but ole Brer Fox
gwine amblin long wid a big string er fish! Wen dey pass de time
er day wid wunner nudder, Brer Rabbit, he open up de confab, he
did, en he ax Brer Fox whar he git dat nice string er fish, en Brer
Fox, he upn spon dat he katch urn, en Brer Rabbit, he say
wharbouts, en Brer Fox, he say down at de babtizin creek, en Brer
Rabbit he ax how, kaze in dem days dey wuz monstus fon er
minners, en Brer Fox, he sot down on a log, he did, en he upn tell
Brer Rabbit dat all he gotter do fer ter git er big mess er minners is
ter go ter de creek atter sun down, en drap his tail in de water en
set dar twel day-light, en den draw up a whole armful er fishes, en
dem wat he dont want, he kin fling back. Right dars whar Brer
Rabbit drap his watermillion, kaze he tuckn sot out dat night en
went a fishin. De wedder wuz sorter cole, en Brer Rabbit, he got
im a bottle er dram en put out fer de creek, en wen he git dar he
pick out a good place, en he sorter squot down, he did, en let his
tail hang in de water. He sot dar, en he sot dar, en he drunk his
dram, en he think he gwineter freeze, but bimeby day come, en dar
he wuz. He make a pull, en he feel like he comin in two, en he
fetch nudder jerk, en lo en beholes, whar wuz his tail?
There was a long pause.
Did it come off, Uncle Remus? asked the little boy, presently.
She did dat! replied the old man with unction. She did dat, and
dat wat make all deze yer bob-tail rabbits wat you see hoppin en
skaddlin thoo de woods.
Are they all that way just because the old Rabbit lost his tail in
the creek? asked the little boy.
Dats it, honey, replied the old man. Dats
wat dey tells me. Look like dey er bleedzd ter take
atter der pa.