ONE night, said Uncle Remustaking Miss Sallys little boy on
his knee, and stroking the childs hair thoughtfully and caressinglyone night Brer Possum call by fer Brer Coon, cordin ter
greement, en atter gobblin up a dish er fried greens en smokin a
seegyar, dey rambled fort fer ter see how de ballance er de
settlement wuz gittin long. Brer Coon, he wuz one er deze yer
natchul pacers, en he racked long same ez Mars Johns bay pony,
en Brer Possum he went in a han-gallup; en dey got over heap er
groun, mon. Brer Possum, he got his belly full er simmons, en
Brer Coon, he scoop up a bunnunce er frogs en tadpoles. Dey
amble long, dey did, des ez sociable ez a basket er kittens, twel
bimeby dey hear Mr. Dog talkin ter hissef way off in de woods.
Spozen he runs up on us, Brer Possum, wat you gwineter do? sez
Brer Coon, sezee. Brer Possum sorter laugh round de cornders un
Oh, ef he come, Brer Coon, Im gwineter stan by you, sez Brer
Possum. Wat you gwineter do? sezee.
Who? me? sez Brer Coon. Ef he run up onter me, I lay I give im
one twis, sezee.
Did the dog come? asked the little boy.
Go way, honey! responded the old man, in an impressive tone.
Go way! Mr. Dog, he come en he come a zoonin. En he aint wait
fer ter say howdy, nudder. He des sail inter de two un urn. De vey
fus pas he make Brer Possum fetch a grin fum year ter year, en
keel over like he wuz dead. Den Mr. Dog, he sail inter Brer Coon,
en right dars whar he drap his money purse, kaze Brer Coon wuz
cut out fer dat kinder bizness, en he farly wipe up de face er de
yeth wid im. You better bleeve dat wen Mr. Dog got a chance to
make hissef skase he tuck it, en wat der wuz lef un him went
skaddlin thoo de woods like hit wuz shot outen a muskit. En Brer
Coon, he sorter lick his cloze inter shape en rack off, en Brer
Possum, he lay dar like he wuz dead, twel bimeby he raise up
sorter keerful like, en wen he fine de coas cler he scramble up en
scamper off like sumpin was atter im.
Here Uncle Remus paused long enough to pick up a live coal of
fire in his fingers, transfer it to the palm of his hand, and thence to
his clay pipe, which he had been fillinga proceeding that was
viewed by the little boy with undisguised admiration. The old man
Nex time Brer Possum met Brer Coon, Brer Coon fuse ter spon
ter his howdy, en dis make Brer Possum feel mighty bad, seein ez
how dey useter make so many scurshuns tergedder.
Wat make you hor yo head so high, Brer Coon? sez Brer Possum,
I aint runnin wid cowerds deze days, sez Brer Coon. Wen I
wants you Ill sen fer you, sezee.
Den Brer Possum git mighty mad.
Whos enny cowerd? sezee.
You is, sez Brer Coon, dats who. I aint so-shatin wid dem wat
lays down on de groun en plays dead wen dars a free fight gwine
Den Brer Possum grin en laugh fit to kill hissef. Lor, Brer
Coon, you dont speck I done dat kaze I wuz feared, duz you?
sezee. Wy I want no mo feared dan you is dis minnit. Wat wuz
dey fer ter be skeered un? sezee. I knowd youd git away wid Mr.
Dog ef I didnt, en I des lay dar watchin you shake him, waitin fer
ter put in wen de time come, sezee.
Brer Coon tun up his nose.
Dats a mighty likely tale, sezee, wen Mr. Dog aint mon tech
you fo you keel over, en lay dar stiff, sezee.
Dats des wat I wuz gwineter tell you bout; sez Brer Possum,
sezee. I want no mo skeerd dan you is right now, en I wuz fixin
fer ter give Mr. Dog a sample er my jaw, sezee, but Im de most
ticklish chap wat you ever laid eyes on, en no sooner did Mr. Dog
put his nose down yer mong my ribs dan I got ter laughin, en I
laughed twel I aint had no use er my lims, sezee, en its a mussy
unto Mr. Dog dat I wuz ticklish, kaze a little mo en Id et im up,
sezee. I dont mine fightin, Brer Coon, no mo dan you duz, sezee,
but I declar ter grashus ef I kin stan ticklin. Git me in a row whar
dey aint no ticklin lowed, en Im your man, sezee.
En down ter dis daycontinued Uncle Remus, watching the
smoke from his pipe curl upward over the little boys headdown
ter dis day, Brer Possums bound ter srender wen you tech him in
de short ribs, en hell laugh ef he knows hes gwineter be smashed