Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Daddy Jake, the runaway
 How a witch was caught
 The little boy and his dogs
 How black snake caught the...
 Why the guineas stay awake
 How the terrapin was taught to...
 The creature with no claws
 Uncle Remus's wonder story
 The rattlesnake and the poleca...
 How the birds talk
 The foolish woman
 The adventures of Simon and...
 Brother Rabbit and the gingerc...
 Brother Rabbit's courtship
 Back Cover

Group Title: Daddy Jake the runaway: and short stories told after dark
Title: Daddy Jake the runaway
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065485/00001
 Material Information
Title: Daddy Jake the runaway and short stories told after dark
Alternate Title: Daddy Jake the runaway and other stories
Physical Description: 4, 145 p. : ill. ; 27 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Harris, Joel Chandler, 1848-1908
Kemble, E. W ( Edward Windsor ), 1861-1933 ( Illustrator )
Pluemer, William Abbott ( Former owner )
Century Company ( Publisher )
De Vinne Press ( Printer )
Publisher: Century Co.
Place of Publication: New York
Manufacturer: De Vinne-Press
Publication Date: c1889
Subject: African Americans -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
African Americans -- Folklore -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Folklore -- Juvenile fiction -- Southern States   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Folklore -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Plantation life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Slavery -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fugitive slaves -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1889   ( lcsh )
Folk tales -- 1889   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1889
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Folk tales   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
Citation/Reference: BAL
Citation/Reference: Lib. Company. Afro-Americana,
Statement of Responsibility: by "Uncle Remus" Joel Chandler Harris.
General Note: Copyright from t.p. verso.
General Note: Some illustrations signed E.W. Kemble.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065485
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223778
notis - ALG4030
oclc - 50384323
lccn - 03021948

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Table of Contents
        Page iv
    Daddy Jake, the runaway
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    How a witch was caught
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    The little boy and his dogs
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
    How black snake caught the wolf
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    Why the guineas stay awake
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    How the terrapin was taught to fly
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    The creature with no claws
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    Uncle Remus's wonder story
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
    The rattlesnake and the polecat
        Page 107
        Page 108
    How the birds talk
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
    The foolish woman
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
    The adventures of Simon and Susanna
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
    Brother Rabbit and the gingercakes
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
    Brother Rabbit's courtship
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

.1 .

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Copyright, 1889, by

I I !










Illustrated 109
Illustrated 124





ONE fine day in September, in the year 1863, there was
quite an uproar on the Gaston plantation, in Putnam
County, in the State of Georgia. Uncle Jake, the carriage-
driver, was missing. He was more than fifty years old, and
it was the first time he had been missing since his mistress
had been big enough to call him. But he was missing now.
Here was his mistress waiting to order the carriage; here
was his master fretting and fuming; and here were the two
little children, Lucien and Lillian, crying because they did n't
know where Uncle Jake was-" Daddy Jake," who had here-
tofore seemed always to be within sound of their voices,
ready and anxious to amuse them in any and every way.
Then came the news that Daddy Jake had actually run
away. This was, indeed, astounding news, and although it
was brought by the son of the overseer, none of the Gastons
would believe it, least of all Lucien and Lillian. The son of
the overseer also brought the further information that Daddy


Jake, who had never had an angry word for anybody, had
struck the overseer across the head with a hoe-handle, and
had then taken to the woods. Dr. Gaston was very angry,
indeed, and he told the overseer's son that if anybody was to
blame it was his father. Mrs. Gaston, with her eyes full of
tears, agreed with her husband, and Lucien and Lillian, when
they found that Daddy Jake was really gone, refused to be
comforted. Everybody seemed to be dazed. As it was Satur-
day, and Saturday was a holiday, the negroes stood around
their quarters in little groups discussing the wonderful event.
Some of them went so far as to say that if Daddy Jake had
taken to the woods it was time for the rest of them to follow
suit; but this proposition was hooted down by the more sensi-
ble among them.
Nevertheless, the excitement on the Gaston plantation ran
very high when it was discovered that a negro so trusted and
so trustworthy as Daddy Jake had actually run away; and it
was not until all the facts were known that the other negroes
became reconciled to Daddy Jake's absence. What were the
facts ? They were very simple, indeed; and yet, many lads
and lasses who read this may fail to fully comprehend them.
In the first place, the year in which Daddy Jake became a
fugitive was the year 1863, and there was a great deal of doubt
and confusion in the South at that time. The Conscription
Act and the Impressment Law were in force. Under the one,
nearly all the able-bodied men and boys were drafted into the
army; and under the other, all the corn and hay and horses
that the Confederacy needed were pressed into service. This



state of things came near causing a revolt in some of the
S States, especially in Georgia, where the laws seemed to bear
most heavily. Something of this is to be found in the his-
tories of that period, but nothing approaching the real facts
has ever been published. After the Conscription Act was
passed the planters were compelled to accept the services of
such overseers as they could get, and the one whom Dr.
Gaston had employed lacked both experience and discretion.
He had never been trained to the business. He was the son
of a shoemaker, and he became an overseer merely to keep out
of the army. A majority of those who made overseeing their
business had gone to the war either as volunteers or substi-
tutes, and very few men capable of taking charge of a large
plantation were left behind.
At the same time overseers were a necessity on some of the
plantations. Many of the planters were either lawyers or
doctors, and these, if they had any practice at all, were com-
pelled to leave their farming interests to the care of agents;
there were other planters who had been reared in the belief
that an overseer was necessary on a large plantation; so that,
for one cause and another, the overseer class was a pretty
large one. It was a very respectable class, too; for, under
ordinary circumstances, no person who was not known to be
trustworthy would be permitted to take charge of the interests
of a plantation, for these were as various and as important as
those of any other business.
But in 1863 it was a very hard matter to get a trustworthy
overseer; and Dr. Gaston, having a large practice as a physi-



cian, had hired the first person who applied for the place, with-
out waiting to make any inquiries about either his knowledge
or his character; and it turned out that his overseer was not
only utterly incompetent, but that he was something of a
rowdy besides. An experienced overseer would have known
that he was employed, not to exercise control over the house
servants, but to look after the farm-hands; but the new man
began business by ordering Daddy Jake to do various things
that were not in the line of his duty. Naturally, the old man,
who was something of a boss himself, resented this sort of
interference. A great many persons were of the opinion that
he had been spoiled by kind treatment; but this is doubtful.
He had been raised with the white people from a little child,
and he was as proud in his way as he was faithful in all ways.
Under the circumstances, Daddy Jake did what other confi-
dential servants would have done; he ignored the commands
of the new overseer, and went about his business as usual.
This led to a quarrel-the overseer doing most of the quarrel-
ing. Daddy Jake was on his dignity, and the overseer was
angry. Finally, in his fury, he struck the old negro with a
strap which he was carrying across his shoulders. The blow
was a stinging one, and it was delivered full in Uncle Jake's
face. For a moment the old negro was astonished. Then he
became furious. Seizing an ax-handle that happened to be
close to his hand, he brought it down upon the head of the
overseer with full force. There was a tremendous crash as
the blow fell, and the overseer went down as if he had been
struck by a pile-driver. He gave an awful groan, and trembled



a little in his limbs, and then lay perfectly still. Uncle Jake
was both dazed and frightened. He would have gone to his
master, but he remembered what he had heard about the law.
In those days a negro who struck a white man was tried for
his life, and if his guilt .could be proven, he was either branded
with a hot iron and sold to a speculator, or he was hanged.
The certainty of these punishments had no doubt been
exaggerated by rumor, but even the rumor was enough to
frighten the negroes. Daddy Jake looked at the overseer a
moment, and then stooped and felt of him. He was motion-
less and, apparently, he had ceased to breathe. Then the old
negro went to his cabin, gathered up his blanket and clothes,
put some provisions in a little bag, and went off into the
woods. He seemed to be in no hurry. He walked with his
head bent, as if in deep thought. He appeared to understand
and appreciate the situation. A short time ago he was the
happy and trusted servant of a master and mistress who had
rarely given him an unkind word; now he was a fugitive-a
runaway. As he passed along by the garden palings he heard
two little children playing and prattling on the other side.
They were talking about him. He paused and listened.
"Daddy Jake likes me the best," Lucien was saying,
" because he tells me stories."
No," said Lillian, "he likes me the best, 'cause he tells
me all the stories and gives me some ginger-cake, too."
The old negro paused and looked through the fence at the
little children, and then he went on his way. But the young-
sters saw Daddy Jake, and went running after him.


Let me go, Uncle Jake!" cried Lucien. Le' me go,
too! cried Lillian. But Daddy Jake broke into a run and
left the children standing in the garden, crying.
It was not very long after this before the whole population

I -
.4', .,

j.- .is -.


knew that Daddy Jake had knocked the overseer down and
had taken to the woods. In fact, it was only a few minutes,
for some of the other negroes had seen him strike the overseer



* G


and had seen the overseer fall, and they lost no time in rais-
ing the alarm. Fortunately the overseer was not seriously
hurt. He had received a blow severe enough to render him
unconscious for a few minutes,-but this was all; and he was
soon able to describe the fracas to Dr. Gaston, which he did
with considerable animation.
"And who told you to order Jake around?" the doctor
"Well, sir, I just thought I had charge of the whole
You were very much mistaken, then," said Doctor Gas-
ton, sharply; "and if I had seen you strike Jake with your
strap, I should have been tempted to take my buggy whip
and give you a dose of your own medicine."
As a matter of fact, Doctor Gaston was very angry, and
he lost no time in giving the new overseer what the negroes
called his "walking-papers." He paid him up and discharged
him on the spot, and it was not many days before everybody
on the Gaston plantation knew that the man had fallen into
the hands of the Conscription officers of the Confederacy, and
that he had been sent on to the front.
At the same time, as Mrs. Gaston herself remarked, this
fact, however gratifying it might be, did not bring Daddy
Jake back. He was gone, and his absence caused a great
deal of trouble on the plantation. It was found that half-a-
dozen negroes had to be detailed to do the work which he had
voluntarily taken upon himself- one to attend to the carriage-
horses, another to look after the cows, another to feed the hogs



and sheep, and still others to look after the thousand and one
little things to be done about the big house." But not one
of them, nor all of them, filled Daddy Jake's place.
Many and many a time Doctor Gaston walked up and
down the veranda wondering where the old negro was, and
Mrs. Gaston, sitting in her rocking-chair, looked down the
avenue day after day, half expecting to see Daddy Jake make
his appearance, hat in hand and with a broad grin on his face.
Some of the neighbors, hearing that Uncle Jake had become
a fugitive, wanted to get Bill Locke's track-dogs and run
him down, but Doctor Gaston and his wife would not hear to
this. They said that the old negro was n't used to staying in
the woods, and that it would n't be long before he would come
back home.
Doctor Gaston, although he was much troubled, looked at
the matter from a man's point of view. Here was Daddy
Jake's home; if he chose to come back, well and good; if he
did n't, why, it could n't be helped, and that was an end of the
matter. But Mrs. Gaston took a different view. Daddy Jake
had been raised with her father; he was an old family-servant;
he had known and loved her mother, who was dead; he had
nursed Mrs. Gaston herself when she was a baby; in short, he
was a fixture in the lady's experience, and his absence worried
her not a little. She could not bear to think that the old negro
was out in the woods without food and without shelter. If
there was a thunderstorm at night, as there sometimes is in
the South during September, she could hardly sleep for think-
ing about the old negro.



Thinking about him led Mrs. Gaston to talk about him
very often, especially to Lucien and Lillian, who had been in
the habit of running out to the kitchen while Daddy Jake was
eating his supper and begging him to tell a story. So far as
they were concerned, his absence was a personal loss. While
Uncle Jake was away they were not only deprived of a most
agreeable companion, but they could give no excuse for not
going to bed. They had no one to amuse them after supper,
and, as a consequence, their evenings were very dull. The
youngsters submitted to this for several days, expecting that
Daddy Jake would return, but in this they were disappointed.
They waited and waited for more than a week, and then they
began to show their impatience.
I used to be afraid of runaways," said Lillian one day,
" but I 'm not afraid now, 'cause Daddy Jake is a runaway."
Lillian was only six years old, but she had her own way of
looking at things.
Pshaw!" exclaimed Lucien, who was nine, and very
robust for his age; I never was afraid of runaways. I know
mighty well they would n't hurt me. There was old Uncle
Fed; he was a runaway when Papa bought him. Would he
hurt anybody ? "
"But there might be some bad ones," said Lillian, "and you
know Lucinda says Uncle Fed is a real, sure-enough witch."
Lucinda! exclaimed Lucien, scornfully. "What does
Lucinda know about witches? If one was to be seen she
would n't stick her head out of the door to see it. She 'd be
scared to death."



Yes, and so would anybody," said Lillian, with an air of
conviction. I know I would."
"Well, of course,- a little girl," explained Lucien. "Any
little girl would be afraid of a witch, but a great big double-
fisted woman like Lucinda ought to be ashamed of herself to
be afraid of witches, and that, too, when everybody knows
there are n't any witches at all, except in the stories."
"Well, I heard Daddy Jake telling about a witch that
turned herself into a black cat, and then into a big black wolf,"
said Lillian.
"Oh, that was in old times," said Lucien, "when the
animals used to talk and go on like people. But you never
heard Daddy Jake say he saw a witch,- now, did you ? "
"No," said Lillian, somewhat doubtfully; but I heard him
talking about them. I hope no witch will catch Daddy Jake."
Pshaw! exclaimed Lucien. Daddy Jake carried his
rabbit-foot with him, and you know no witch can bother him
as long as he has his rabbit-foot."
"Well," said Lillian, solemnly, if he 's got his rabbit-foot
and can keep off the witches all night, he won't come back
any more.
But he must come," said Lucien. I 'm going after him.
I 'm going down to the landing to-morrow, and I '11 take the
boat and go down the river and bring him back."
Oh, may I go, too? asked Lillian.
"Yes," said Lucien loftily, "if you '11 help me get some
things out of the house and not say anything about what we
are going to do."



Lillian was only too glad to pledge herself to secrecy, and
the next day found the two children busily preparing for their
journey in search of Daddy Jake.
The Gaston plantation lay along the Oconee River in Put-
nam County, not far from Roach's Ferry. In fact,;it lay on
both sides of the river, and, as the only method of communi-
cation was by means of a bateau, nearly everybody on the
plantation knew how to manage the boat. There was not an
hour during the day that the bateau was not in use. Lucien
and Lillian had been carried across hundreds of times, and
they were as much at home in the boat as they were in a
buggy. Lucien was too young to row, but.he knew how to
guide the bateau with a paddle while others used the oars.
This fact gave him confidence, and the result was that the
two children quietly made their arrangements to go in search
of Daddy Jake. Lucien was the provider," as he said, and
Lillian helped him to carry the things to the boat. They got
some meal-sacks, two old quilts, and a good supply of biscuits
and meat. Nobody meddled with them, for nobody knew
what their plans were, but some of the negroes remarked that
they were not only unusually quiet, but very busy -, a state
of things that is looked upon by those who are acquainted
with the ways of children as a very bad sign, indeed.
The two youngsters worked pretty much all day, and they
worked hard; so that when night came they were both tired
and sleepy. They were tired and sleepy, but they managed
to cover their supplies with the meal-sacks, and the next
morning they were up bright and early. They were up so



early, indeed, that they thought it was a very long time until
breakfast was ready; and, at last, when the bell rang, they
hurried to the table and ate ravenously, as became two
travelers about to set out on a voyage of adventure.
It was all they could do to keep their scheme from their

V. :


mother. Once Lillian was on the point of asking her some-
thing about it, but Lucien shook his head, and it was not long
before the two youngsters embarked on their journey. After
seating Lillian in the bateau, Lucien unfastened the chain from


~;~61 ~:c.':.;I


the stake, threw it into the boat, and jumped in himself. Then,
as the clumsy affair drifted slowly with the current, he seized
one of the paddles, placed the blade against the bank, and
pushed the bateau out into the middle of the stream.
It was the beginning of a voyage of adventure, the end of
which could not be foretold; but the sun was shining brightly,
the mocking-birds were singing in the water-oaks, the black-
birds were whistling blithely in the reeds, and the children
were light-hearted and happy. They were going to find
Daddy Jake and fetch him back home, and not for a moment
did it occur to them that the old negro might have gone in a
different direction. It seemed somehow to those on the Gas-
ton plantation that whatever was good, or great, or wonderful
had its origin down the river." Rumor said that the biggest
crops were grown in that direction, and that there the negroes
were happiest. The river, indeed, seemed to flow to some far-
off country where everything was finer and more flourishing.
This was the idea of the negroes themselves, and it was natural
that Lucien and Lillian should be impressed with the same
belief. So they drifted down the river, confident that they
would find Daddy Jake. They had no other motive-no
other thought. They took no account of the hardships of a
voyage such as they had embarked on.
Lazily, almost reluctantly as it seemed, the boat floated down
the stream. At first, Lucien was inclined to use the broad oar,
but it appeared that when he paddled on one side the clumsy
boat tried to turn its head up stream on the other side, and
so, after a while, he dropped the oar in the bottom of the boat.



The September sun was sultry that morning, but, obeying
some impulse of the current, the boat drifted down the river in
the shade of the water-oaks and willows that lined the eastern
bank. On the western bank the Gaston plantation lay, and as
the boat floated lazily along the little voyagers could hear the
field-hands singing as they picked the opening cotton. The
song was strangely melodious, though the words were

My dog 's a 'possum dog,
Here, Rattler/ he-re!
He cross de creek upon a log,
Here, Rattler / here !

He run de 'possum up a tree,
Here, Rattler/! here
He good enough fer you an' me,
Here, Ratler / here !

Kaze when it come his fat'nin' time,
Here, Rattler / here /
De "possum eat de muscadine,
Here, Rattler! here

He eat till he kin skacely stan',
Here, Rattler/ here /
An' den we bake him in de pan,
Here, Rattller here!



It was to the quaint melody of this song that the boat
rocked and drifted along. One of the negroes saw the chil-
dren and thought he knew them, and he called to them, but
received no reply; and this fact was so puzzling that he went
back and told the other negroes that there was some mistake
about the children. Ef dey 'd 'a' bin our chillun," he said,

I', ,';,

They had no thought of danger. The river was their familiar
friend. They had crossed and recrossed it hundreds of times.--.-

d ",'d Ia' o at e, ,h'" u t e

They had no thought of danger. The river was their familiar
friend. They had crossed and recrossed it hundreds of times.



They were as contented in the bateau as they would have been
in their mother's room. The weather was warm, but on the
river and in the shade of the overhanging trees, the air was
cool and refreshing. And after a while the current grew
swifter, and the children, dipping their hands in the water,
laughed aloud.
Once, indeed, the bateau, in running over a long stretch of
shoals, was caught against a rock. An ordinary boat would
have foundered, but this boat, clumsy and deep-set, merely
obeyed the current. It struck the rock, recoiled, touched it
again, and then slowly turned around and pursued its course
down the stream. The shoals were noisy but harmless. The
water foamed and roared over the rocks, but the current was
deep enough to carry the bateau safely down. It was not
often that a boat took that course, but Lucien and Lillian had
no sense of fear. The roaring and foaming of the water
pleased them, and the rushing and whirling of the boat, as it
went dashing down the rapids, appeared to be only part of a
holiday frolic. After they had passed the shoals, the current
became swifter, and the old bateau was swept along at a rapid
rate. The trees on the river bank seemed to be running back
toward home, and the shadows on the water ran with them.
Sometimes the boat swept through long stretches of
meadow and marsh lands, and then the children were de-
lighted to see the sand-pipers and kill-dees running along the
margin of the water. The swallows, not yet flown southward,
skimmed along the river with quivering wing, and the king-
fishers displayed their shining plumage in the sun. Once a


moccasin, fat and rusty, frightened by the unexpected appear-
ance of the young voyagers, dropped into the boat; but, before
Lucien could strike him with the unwieldy oar, he tumbled
overboard and disappeared. Then the youngsters ate their
dinner. It was a very dry dinner; but they ate it with a relish.
The crows, flying lazily over, regarded them curiously.
I reckon they want some," said Lucien.
Well, they can't get mine," said Lillian, 'cause I jest
about got enough for myself."
They passed a white man who was sitting on the river
bank, with his coat off, fishing.
Where under the sun did you chaps come from ?" he
Up the river," replied Lucien.
Where in the nation are you going? "
Down the river."
Maybe he knows where Daddy Jake is," said Lillian.
" Ask him."
Why, he would n't know Daddy Jake from a side of sole
leather," exclaimed Lucien.
By this time the boat had drifted around a bend in the
river. The man on the bank took off his hat with his thumb
and forefinger, rubbed his head with the other. fingers, drove
away a swarm of mosquitoes, and muttered, Well, I '11 be
switched Then he went on with his fishing.
Meanwhile the boat drifted steadily with the current.
Sometimes it seemed to the children that the boat stood still,
while the banks, the trees, and the fields moved by them like



a double panorama. Queer-looking little birds peeped at them
from the bushes; fox-squirrels chattered at them from the
trees; green frogs greeted them by plunging into the water
with a squeak; turtles slid noiselessly off the banks at their
approach; a red fox that had come to the river to drink dis-
appeared like a shadow before the sun; and once a great white
crane rose in the air, flapping his wings heavily.
Altogether it was a very jolly journey, but after a while
Lillian began to get restless.
Do you reckon Daddy Jake will be in the river when we
find him? she asked.
Lucien himself was becoming somewhat tired, but he was
resolved to go right on. Indeed, he could not do otherwise.
"Why, who ever heard of such a thing?" he exclaimed.
" What would Daddy Jake be doing in the water ?"
Well, how are we's to find him?"
Oh, we '11 find him."
But I want to find him right now," said Lillian, and I
want to see Mamma, and Papa, and my dollies."
"Well," said Lucien, with unconscious humor, "if you
don't want to go, you can get out and walk back home." At
this, Lillian began to cry.
Well," said Lucien, if Daddy Jake was over there in the
bushes and was to see you crying because you did n't want to
go and find him, he 'd run off into the woods and nobody
would see him any more."
Lillian stopped crying at once, and, as the afternoon wore
on, both children grew more cheerful; and even when twilight


came, and after it the darkness, they were not very much
afraid. The loneliness -the sighing of the wind through the
trees, the rippling of the water against the sides of the boat,
the hooting of the big swamp-owl, the cry of the whippoorwill,
and the answer of its cousin, the chuck-will's-widow all
these things would have awed and frightened the children.
But, shining steadily in the evening sky, they saw the star
they always watched at home. It seemed to be brighter than
ever, this familiar star, and they hailed it as a friend and
fellow-traveler. They felt that home could n't be so far away,
for the star shone in its accustomed place, and this was a great
After a while the night grew chilly, and then Lucien and
Lillian wrapped their quilts about them and cuddled down in
the bottom of the boat. Thousands of stars shone overhead,
and it seemed to the children that the old bateau, growing tired
of its journey, had stopped to rest; but it continued to drift
down the river.




Y OU may be sure there was trouble on the Gaston place
when night came and the children did not return. They
were missed at dinner-time; but it frequently happened that
they went off with some of the plantation wagons, or with
some of the field-hands, and so nothing was thought of their
absence at noon; but when night fell and all the negroes had


returned from their work, and there was still no sign of the
children, there was consternation in the big house and trouble
all over the plantation. The field-hands, returned from their
work, discussed the matter at the doors of their cabins and
manifested considerable anxiety.
At first the house-servants were sent scurrying about the
place hunting for the truants. Then other negroes were
pressed into service, until, finally, every negro on the place
was engaged in the search, and torches could be seen bobbing
up and down in all parts of the plantation. The negroes called
and called, filling the air with their musical halloos, but there
was no reply save from the startled birds, or from the dogs,
who seemed to take it for granted that everybody was engaged
in a grand 'possum hunt and added the strength of their own
voices to the general clamor.
While all this was going on, Mrs. Gaston was pacing up
and down the long veranda wringing her hands in an agony
of grief. There was but one thought in her mind-the river,
the RIVER! Her husband in the midst of his own grief tried
to console her, but he could not. He had almost as much as
he could do to control himself, and there was in his own mind
-the RIVER!
The search on the plantation and in its vicinity went on until
nearly nine o'clock. About that time Big Sam, one of the
plough-hands, who was also a famous fisherman, came run-
ning to the house with a frightened face.
Marster," he exclaimed, de boat gone-she done
gone !"



Oh, I knew it!" exclaimed Mrs. Gaston-" the river, the
"Well!" said Dr. Gaston, "the boat must be found. Blow
the horn."
Big Sam seized the dinner-horn and blew a blast that
startled the echoes for miles around. The negroes understood
this to be a signal to return, and most of them thought that the
children had been found, so they came back laughing and
singing and went to the big house to see the children.
"Wh'abouts you fine um, master ?" asked the foreman.
They have n't been found, Jim," said Dr. Gaston. Big
Sam says that the boat is gone from the landing, and that boat
must be found to-night."
Marster," said a negro, coming forward out of the group,
" I seed a boat gwine down stream dis morning I wuz way
up on de hill-"
"And you did n't come and tell me?" asked Dr. Gaston in
a severe tone.
"Well, suh, I hollered at um, an' dey ain't make no answer,
an' den it look like ter me 't wuz dem two Ransome boys. Hit
mos' drap out'n my min'. An' den you know, suh, our chillun
ain't never had no doin's like dat-gittin' in de boat by dey
own-alone se'f an' sailin' off dat a-way."
"Well," said Dr. Gaston, "the boat must be found. The
children are in it. Where can we get another boat ?"
I got one, suh," said Big Sam.
Me, too, masterr" said another negro.
Then get them both, and be quick about it!"



Ah-yi, suh," was the response, and in a moment the group
was scattered, and Big Sam could be heard giving orders in a
loud and an energetic tone of voice. For once he was in his
element. He could be foreman on the Oconee if he could n't
in the cotton-patch. He knew every nook and cranny of the
river for miles up and down; he had his fish-baskets sunk in
many places, and the overhanging limbs of many a tree bore
the marks of the lines of his set-hooks. So for once he ap-
pointed himself foreman, and took charge of affairs. He and
Sandy Bill (so-called owing to the peculiar color of his hair)
soon had their boats at the landing. The other negroes were
assembled there, and the most of them had torches.
Marster," said Big Sam, you git in my boat, an' let little
Willyum come fer ter hol' de torch. Jesse, you git in dar wid
Sandy Bill. Fling a armful er light'ood in bofe boats, boys,
kaze we got ter have a light, and dey ain't no tellin' how fur
we gwine."
The fat pine was thrown in, everything made ready, and
then the boats started. With one sweep of his broad paddle,
Big Sam sent his boat into the middle of the stream, and,
managed by his strong and willing arms, the clumsy old
bateau became a thing of life. Sandy Bill was not far behind
The negroes used only one paddle in rowing, and each sat
in the stern of his boat, using the rough but effective oar first
on one side and then the other.
From a window, Mrs. Gaston watched the boats as they
went speeding down the river. By her side was Charity, the cook.



Is n't it terrible !" she exclaimed, as the boats passed out
of sight. Oh, what shall I do ?"
"'T would be mighty bad, Mist'iss, ef dem chillun wuz
los'; but dey ain't no mo' los' dan I is, an' I 'm a-standin' right
yer in de corner by dish yer cheer."
Not lost! Why, of course they are lost. Oh, my darling
little children !"

No 'm, dey ain't no mo' los' dan you is. Dey tuck dat
boat dis morning an' dey went atter ole man Jake-dat's whar
dey er gone. Dey ain't gone nowhar else. Dey er in dat
boat right now; dey may be asleep, but dey er in dar. Ain't
I year um talking' yistiddy wid my own years? Ain't I year
dat ar Marse Lucien boy 'low ter he sister dat he gwine go
fetch ole man Jake back? Ain't I miss a whole can full er
biscuits ? Ain't I miss two er dem pies w'at I lef' out dar in
de kitchen? Ain't I miss a great big hunk er light-bread?



An' who gwine dast ter take um less'n it 's dem ar chillun ?
Dey don't fool me, mon. I 'm one er de oldest rats in de barn
-I is dat!"
Charity's tone was emphatic and energetic. She was so
confident that her theory was the right one that she succeeded
in quieting her mistress somewhat.
"An' mo' 'n dat," she went on, seeing the effect of her
remarks, dem chillun '11 come home yer all safe an' soun'.
Ef Marster an' dem niggers don't fetch um back, dey '11 come
deyse'f; an' old man Jake '11 come wid um. You min'
w'at I tell you. You go an' go ter bed, honey, an' don't pester
yo'se'f 'bout dem chillun. I '11 set up yer in de corner an'
nod, an' keep my eyes on w'at 's gwine on outside."
But Mrs. Gaston refused to go to bed. She went to the
window, and away down the river she could see the red light
of the torches projected against the fog. It seemed as if it
were standing still, and the mother's heart sank within her at
the thought. Perhaps they had found the boat -empty!
This and a thousand other cruel suggestions racked her
But the boats were not standing still; they were moving
down the river as rapidly as four of the stoutest arms to be
found in the county could drive them. The pine torches lit
up both banks perfectly. The negroes rowed in silence a mile
or more, when Big Sam said:
Marster, kin we sing some ?"
Does it seem to be much of a singing matter, Sam ? Dr.
Gaston asked, grimly.



No, suh, it don't; but singin' he'ps 'long might'ly w'en
you working mo' speshually ef you er doin' de kind er work
whar you kin sorter hit a lick wid de chune -kinder keeping'
time, like."
Dr. Gaston said nothing, and big Sam went on:
'Sides dat, master, we-all useter sing ter dem chillun,
an' dey knows our holler so well dat I boun' you ef dey wuz
ter year us singin' an' gwine on, dey 'd holler back."
"Well," said Dr. Gaston, struck by the suggestion,
Bill," said Big Sam to the negro in the other boat,
" watch out for me; I 'm gwine away."
"You '11 year fum me w'en you git whar you gwine,"
Sandy Bill replied.
With that Big Sam struck up a song. His voice was clear
and strong, and he sang with a will.

Oh, Miss Malindy, you er lots too sweet for me;
I cannot come to see you
Ontil my time is free -
Oh, den I '11 come ter see you,
An' take you on my knee.

Oh, Miss Malindy, now don't you go away;
I cannot come to see you
Ontil some yuther day -
Oh, den I '11 come ter see you -
Oh, den I '11 come ter stay.



Oh, Miss Malindy, you is my only one;
I cannot come ter see you
Ontil de day is done -
Oh, den I '11 come ter see you,
And we '11 have a little fun.

Oh, Miss Malindy, my heart belongs ter you;
I cannot come ter see you
Ontil my work is thoo'.
Oh, den I '11 come ter see you,
I '11 come in my canoe.

The words of the song, foolish and trivial as they are,
do not give the faintest idea of the melody to which it was
sung. The other negroes joined in, and the tremulous tenor
of little Willyum was especially effective. The deep dark
woods on either side seemed to catch up and echo back the
plaintive strain. To a spectator on the bank, the scene must
have been an uncanny one -the song with its heart-break-
ing melody, the glistening arms and faces of the two gigantic
blacks, the flaring torches, flinging their reflections on the
swirling waters, the great gulfs of darkness beyond all
these must have been very impressive. But these things did
not occur to those in the boats, least of all to Dr. Gaston. In
the minds of all there was but one thought--the children.
The negroes rowed on, keeping time to their songs.
Their arms appeared to be as tireless as machinery that has
the impulse of steam. Finally Big Sam's boat grounded.



"Hol' on dar, Bill!" he shouted. "Watch out!" He
took the torch from the little negro and held it over his
head, and then behind him, peering into the darkness
beyond. Then he laughed.
De Lord he'p my soul!" he exclaimed; "I done clean
fergit 'bout Moccasin Shoals! Back yo' boat, Bill." Suit-
ing the action to the word, he backed his own, and they
were soon away from the shoals.
"Now, den," he said to Bill, git yo' boat in line wid
mine, an' hol' yo' paddle in yo' lap." Then the boats,
caught by the current, moved toward the shoals, and one
after the other touched a rock, turned completely around,
and went safely down the rapids, just as the children's boat
had done in the forenoon. Once over the shoals, Big Sam
and Sandy Bill resumed their oars and their songs, and
sent the boats along at a rapid rate.
A man, sitting on the river bank, heard them coming, and
put out his torch by covering it with sand. He crouched behind
the bushes and watched them go by. After they had passed,
he straightened himself, and remarked:
Well, I '11 be switched!" Then he relighted his torch,
and went on with his fishing. It was the same man that
Lucien and Lillian had seen.
The boats went on and on. With brief intervals the negroes
rowed all night long, but Dr. Gaston found no trace of his
children. In sheer desperation, however, he kept on. The
sun rose, and the negroes were still rowing. At nine o'clock
in the morning the boats entered Ross's mill-pond. This Dr.



Gaston knew was the end of his journey. If the boat had
drifted into this pond, and been carried over the dam, the


children were either drowned or crushed,on the rocks below.
If their boat had not entered the pond, then they had been
rescued the day before by some one living near the river.



It was with a heavy heart that Dr. Gaston landed. And
yet there were no signs of a tragedy anywhere near. John
Cosby, the miller, fat and hearty, stood in the door of the mill,
his arms akimbo, and watched the boats curiously. His chil-
dren were playing near. A file of geese was marching down to
the water, and a flock of pigeons was sailing overhead, taking
their morning exercise. Everything seemed to be peaceful
and serene. As he passed the dam on his way to the mill,
Dr. Gaston saw that there was a heavy head of water, but
possibly not enough to carry a large bateau over; still -
the children were gone!
The puzzled look on the miller's face disappeared as Dr.
Gaston approached.
Well, the gracious goodness!" he exclaimed. Why,
howdy, Doc. -howdy! Why, I 'm right down glad to see
you. Whichever an' whichaway did you come? "
My little children are lost," said Dr. Gaston, shaking the
miller's hand. The jolly smile on John Cosby's face disap-
peared as suddenly as if it had been wiped out with a sponge.
"Well, now, that 's too bad--too bad," he exclaimed,
looking at his own rosy-cheeked little ones standing near.
They were in a bateau," said Dr. Gaston, "and I thought
maybe they might have drifted down here and over the mill-
The miller's jolly smile appeared again. Oh, no, Doc.-
no, no Whichever an' whichaway they went, they never went
over that dam. In time of a freshet, the thing might be did;
but not now. Oh, no! Ef it lies betwixt goin' over that



dam an' bein' safe, them babies is jest as safe an' soun' as
mine is."
I think," said Dr. Gaston, that they started out to hunt
Jake, my carriage-driver, who has run away."
"Jake run away!" exclaimed Mr. Cosby, growing very
red in the face. "Why, the impident scoundull! Hit ain't
been three days sence the ole rascal wuz here. He come an
'lowed that some of your wagons was a-campin' out about two
mile from here, an' he got a bushel of meal, an' said that if you
did n't pay me the money down I could take it out in physic.
The impident ole scoundull! An' he was jest as 'umble-come-
tumble as you please a-bowin' an' a-scrapin', an' a-howdy-
But the old miller's indignation cooled somewhat when Dr.
Gaston briefly told him of the incident which caused the old
negro to run away.
Hit sorter sticks in my gizzard," he remarked, when I
hear tell of a nigger hitting' a white man; but I don't blame
Jake much."
And now," said Dr. Gaston, I want to ask your advice.
You are a level-headed man, and I want to know what you
think. The children got in the boat, and came down the
river. There is no doubt in my mind that they started on a
wild-goose chase after Jake; but they are not on the river now,
nor is the boat on the river. How do you account for that ?"
Well, Doc., if you want my naked beliefs about it, I '11
give 'em to you, fa'r an' square It 's my beliefs that them
youngsters have run up agin old Jake somewhat up the river,



an' that they are jest as safe an' soun' as you is. Them 's my
But what has become of the boat ?"
Well, I'll tell you. Old Jake is jest as cunning as any
other nigger. He took an' took the youngsters out, an' arter-
wards he drawed the boat out on dry land. He rightly thought
there would be pursuit, an' he did n't mean to be ketched."
"Then what would you advise me to do?" asked Dr.
The old man scratched his head.
Well, Doc., I 'm a-talkin' in the dark, but it's my beliefs
them youngsters '11 be at home before you can get there to
save your life. Jake may not be there, but if he's found the
boy an' gal, he '11 carry 'em safe home. Now you mind what
I tell you."
Dr. Gaston's anxiety was too great to permit him to put
much confidence in the old miller's prediction. What he said
seemed reasonable enough, but a thousand terrible doubts had
possession of the father's mind. He hardly dared go home
without the children. He paced up and down before the mill, a
most miserable man. He knew not where to go or what to do.
Mr. Cosby, the miller, watched him awhile and shook his
head. If Doc. don't find them youngsters," he said to him-
self, "he '11 go plum deestracted." But he said aloud:
Well, Doc., you an' the niggers must have a breathing-
spell. We '11 go up to the house an' see ef we can't find some-
thin' to eat in the cubberd, an' arterwards, in the time you are
restin', we '11 talk about finding' the youngsters. If there 's any



needcessity, I '11 go with you. My son John can run the mill
e'en about as good as I can. We '11 go up yan to 'Squire
Ross's an' git a horse or two, an' we '11 scour the country on
both sides of the river. But you 've got to have a snack of
something' to eat, an' you 've got to take a rest. Human natur'
can't stand the strain."
Torn as he was by grief and anxiety, Dr. Gaston knew this
was good advice. He gratefully accepted John Cosby's invi-
tation to breakfast, as well as his offer to aid in the search for
the lost children. After Dr. Gaston had eaten, he sat on the
miller's porch and tried to collect his thoughts so as to be able
to form some plan of search. While the two men were talk-
ing, they heard Big Sam burst out laughing. He laughed so
loud and heartily that Mr. Cosby grew angry, and went into
the back yard to see what the fun was about. In his heart the
miller thought the negroes were laughing at the food his wife
had set before them, and he was properly indignant.
Well, well," said he, "what's this I hear? Two high-fed
niggers a-laughin' because their master's little ones are lost and
gone And has it come to this? A purty pass, a mighty
purty pass!" Both the negroes grew very serious at this.
Mars' John, we-all was des projickin' wid one an'er. You
know how niggers is w'en dey git nuff ter eat. Dey feel so
good dey 'bleege ter holler."
Mr. Cosby sighed, and turned away. "Well," said he, I
hope niggers 's got souls, but I know right p'int-blank that
they ain't got no hearts."
Now, what was Big Sam laughing at?



He was laughing because he had found out where Lucien
and Lillian were. How did he find out? In the simplest
manner imaginable. Sandy Bill and Big Sam were sitting in
Mr. Cosby's back yard eating their breakfast, while little Will-
yum was eating his in the kitchen. It was the first time the
two older negroes had had an opportunity of talking together
since they started from home the day before.
"Sam," said Sandy Bill, "did you see whar de chillun
landed w'en we come 'long des a'ter sun-up dis morning' ?"
Dat I did n't," said Sam, wiping his mouth with the back
of his hand-" dat I did n't, an' ef I had I 'd a hollered out ter
Dat w'at I wuz feared un," said Sandy Bill.
Feared er what?" asked Big Sam.
Feared you 'd holler at master ef you seed whar dey
landed. Dat how come I ter run foul er yo' boat."
Look yer, nigger man, you ain't done gone'stracted, is you?"
Shoo, chile! don't talk ter me 'bout gwine 'stracted. I
got ez much sense ez Ole Zip Coon."
Den why n't you tell master? Ain't you done see how
he troubled in he min' ?"
I done see dat, en it make me feel bad; but t'er folks got
trouble, too, lots wuss'n masterr"
Is dey los' der chillun ?"
"Yes-Lord! dey done los' eve'ybody. But master ain't
los' no chillun yit."
Den wat we doin' way down yer ?" asked Big Sam in an
angry tone.



Le'me tell you," said Sandy Bill, laying his hand on Big
Sam's shoulder; le'me tell you. Right cross dar fum whar
I run foul er yo' boat is de biggest cane-brake in all creation."


"I know 'im," said Big Sam. "Dey calls 'im Hudson's
Now you talking, said Sandy Bill. Well, ef you go dar
you '11 fin' right in de middle er dat cane-brake a heap er nig-
gers dat you got 'quaintance wid Randall Spivey, an' Crazy



Sue, an' Cupid Mitchell, an' Isaiah Little dey er all dar; an'
ole man Jake, he dar too."
Look yer, nigger," Sam exclaimed, how you know?"
I sent 'im dar. He come by me in de fiel' an' tole me he
done kilt de overseer, an' I up an' tell 'im, I did, Make fer
Hudson's cane-brake,' an' dar 's right whar he went."
It was at this point that Big Sam's hearty laughter attracted
the attention of Dr. Gaston and Mr. Cosby.
Now, den," said Sandy Bill, after the miller had rebuked
them and returned to the other side of the house, now, den,
ef I 'd 'a' showed master whar dem chillun landed, en tole 'im
whar dey wuz, he 'd 'a' gone 'cross dar, en seed dem niggers,
an' by dis time nex' week ole Bill Locke's nigger-dogs would
'a' done run um all in jail. You know how master is. He
think kaze he treat his niggers right dat eve'ybody else treat
der'n des dat a-way. But don't you worry 'bout dem chillun."
Was it possible for Sandy Bill to be mistaken ?



LUCIEN and Lillian, cuddled together in the bottom of
their boat, were soon fast asleep. In dreams of home
their loneliness and their troubles were all forgotten. Some-
times in the starlight, sometimes in the dark shadows of the
overhanging trees, the boat drifted on. At last, toward morn-
ing, it was caught in an eddy and carried nearer the bank,
where the current was almost imperceptible. Here the clumsy
old bateau rocked and swung, sometimes going lazily forward,
and then as lazily floating back again.
As the night faded away into the dim gray of morning, the
bushes above the boat were thrust softly aside, and a black
face looked down upon the children. Then the black face dis-
appeared as suddenly as it came. After a while it appeared
again. It was not an attractive face. In the dim light it
seemed to look down on the sleeping children with a leer that
was almost hideous. It was the face of a woman. Around
her head was a faded red handkerchief, tied in a fantastic
fashion, and as much of her dress as could be seen was ragged,
dirty, and greasy. She was not pleasant to look upon, but the
children slept on unconscious of her presence.
Presently the woman came nearer. On the lower bank a




freshet had deposited a great heap of sand, which was now dry
and soft. The woman sat down on this, hugging her knees
with her arms, and gazed at the sleeping children long and
earnestly. Then she looked up and down the river, but noth-
ing was to be seen for the fog that lay on the water. She
shook her head and muttered:
Hit 's pizen down yer fer dem babies. Yit how I gwine
git um out er dar? "
She caught hold of the boat, turned it around, and, by
means of the chain, drew it partially on the sand-bank. Then
she lifted Lillian from the boat, wrapping the quilt closer about
the child, carried her up the bank, and laid her beneath the'
trees where no dew had fallen. Returning, she lifted Lucien
and placed him beside his sister. But the change aroused
him. He raised himself on his elbow and rubbed his eyes.
The negro woman, apparently by force of habit, slipped behind
a tree.
"Where am I?" Lucien exclaimed, looking around in
something of a fright. He caught sight of the frazzled skirt
of the woman's dress. Who is there behind that tree ?" he
Nobody but me, honey-nobody ner nothing' but po' ole
Crazy Sue. Don't be skeerd er me. I ain't nigh ez bad ez I
looks ter be."
It was now broad daylight, and Lucien could see that the
hideous ugliness of the woman was caused by a burn on the
side of her face and neck.
Was n't I in a boat?"




Yes, honey; I brung you up yer fer ter keep de fog fum
pizenin' you."
I dreamed the Bad Man had me," said Lucien, shivering
at the bare recollection.
No, honey; 't want nobody ner nothing' but po' ole Crazy
Sue. De boat down dar on de sand-bank, an' yo' little sissy
layin' dar soun' asleep. Whar in de name er goodness wuz
you-all gwine, honey?" asked Crazy Sue, coming nearer.
"We were going down the river hunting for Daddy Jake.
He 's a runaway now. I reckon we '11 find him after a while."
"Is you-all Marse Doc. Gaston' chillun ?" asked Crazy
Sue, with some show of eagerness.
"Why, of course we are," said Lucien.
Crazy Sue's eyes fairly danced with joy. She clasped her
hands together and exclaimed:
Lord, honey, I could shout,-I could des holler and
shout; but I ain't gwine do it. You stay right dar by yo'
little sissy till I come back; I want ter run an' make some-
body feel good. Now, don't you move, honey. Stay right dar."
With that Crazy Sue disappeared in the bushes. Lucien
kept very still. In the first place, he was more than half
frightened by the strangeness of his surroundings, and, in the
second place, he was afraid his little sister would wake and
begin to cry. He felt like crying a little himself, for he knew
he was many miles from home, and he felt very cold and un-
comfortable. Indeed, he felt very lonely and miserable; but
just when he was about to cry and call Daddy Jake, he heard
voices near him. Crazy Sue came toward him in a half-trot,


and behind her-close behind her-was Daddy Jake, his face
wreathed in smiles and his eyes swimming in tears. Lucien
saw him and rushed toward him, and the old man stooped and
hugged the boy to his black bosom.

"" 7 ?) --' --'-
1 1 i ., ... '

"I,* i .- i '' *, ']! I I i I '

'Jake is ?
Sa sitr strtd ot to ht ," said i i

peering a little, now that he had nothing to whimper for, and
.. .! .
.i I''-

Jak is "i.
o .o- ......- w. ,m,. yo '.'

pering a little, now that he had nothing to whimper for, and


I think you are mighty mean to run off and leave us-all at
Now you talking honey," said Daddy Jake, laughing in
his old fashion. I boun' I 'm de means' ole nigger in de
United State. Yit, ef I 'd 'a' know'd you wuz gwine ter foller
me up so close, I 'd 'a' fotch you wid me, dat I would! An'
dar 's little Missy," he exclaimed, leaning over the little girl,
" an' she 's a-sleepin' des ez natchul ez ef she wuz in her bed
at home. What I tell you-all ?" he went on, turning to a
group of negroes that had followed him,-Randall, Cupid,
Isaiah, and others,--" What I tell you-all? Ain't I done bin'
an' gone an' tole you dat deze chillun wuz de out-doin'est
chillun on de top-side er de roun' worl' ?"
The negroes-runaways all-laughed and looked pleased,
and Crazy Sue fairly danced. They made so much fuss that
they woke Lillian, and when she saw Daddy Jake she gave
one little cry and leaped in his arms. This made Crazy Sue
dance again, and she would have kept it up for a long time,
but Randall suggested to Daddy Jake that the boat ought to
be hauled ashore and hidden in the bushes. Crazy Sue stayed
with the children while the negro men went after the boat.
They hauled it up the bank by the chain, and then they lifted
and carried it several hundred yards away from the river, and
hid it in the thick bushes and grass.
Now," said Daddy Jake, when they had returned to where
they left the children, "we got ter git away f'um yer. Dey
ain't no tellin' w'at gwine ter happen. Ef deze yer chillun kin
slip up on us dis away w'at kin a grown man do ?"



The old man intended this as a joke, but the others took
him at his word, and were moving off. Wait! he exclaimed.
" De chillun bleeze ter go whar I go. Sue, you pick up little
Missy dar, an' I '11 play hoss fer dish yer chap."
Crazy Sue lifted Lillian in her arms, Daddy Jake stooped
so that Lucien could climb up on his back, and then all took
up their march for the middle of Hudson's cane-brake. Randall
brought up the rear in order, as he said, to stop up de holes."
It was a narrow, slippery, and winding path in which the
negroes trod a path that a white man would have found
difficult to follow. It seemed to lead in all directions; but,
finally, it stopped on a knoll high and dry above the surround-
ing swamp. A fire was burning brightly, and the smell of fry-
ing meat was in the air. On this knoll the runaway negroes
had made their camp, and for safety they could not have
selected a better place.
It was not long before Crazy Sue had warmed some break-
fast for the children. The negroes had brought the food they
found in the boat, and Crazy Sue put some of the biscuits in a
tin bucket, hung the bucket on a stick, and held it over the fire.
Then she gave them some bacon that had been broiled on a
stone, and altogether they made a hearty breakfast.
During the morning most of the negro men stayed in the
cane-brake, some nodding and some patching their clothes,
which were already full of patches. But after dinner, a feast
of broiled fish, roasted sweet potatoes, and ash-cake, they all
went away, leaving Crazy Sue to take care of the children.
After the men had all gone, the woman sat with her head



covered with her arms. She sat thus for a long time.
After a while Lucien went to her and put his hand on her
What 's the matter? he asked.

j, ,y **: !~ ;" ,' ..'V, [' ,z
'' tf,,, ^ ,
..,, ,"*f ,' "

*-..-, .. 2-- :---_^..-' 1' _..
_. .^ -* .: ._- -' .. .

.' L i.A .





"Nothin', honey; I wuz des a-settin' yer a-studyin' an'
a-studyin'. Lots er times I gits took dat a-way."
What are you studying about ? said Lucien.
'Bout folks. I wuz des a-studyin' 'bout folks, an' 'bout
how come I whar I is, w'en I oughter be somers else. W'en
I set down dis a-way, I gits dat turrified in de min' dat I can't

~ .~i


stay on de groun' sca'cely. Look like I want ter rise up in de
elements an' fly."
What made you run away?" Lucien asked with some
Well, you know, honey," said Crazy Sue, after a pause,
" my master ain't nigh ez good ter his niggers ez yo' pa is
ter his'n. 'T ain't dat my master is any mo' strick, but look
like hit fret 'im ef he see one er his niggers setting' down any-
wheres. Well, one time, long time ago, I had two babies, an
dey wuz twins, an' dey wuz des 'bout ez likely little niggers ez
you ever did see. De w'ite folks had me at de house doin' de
washin' so I could be where I kin nurse de babies. One time
I wuz setting' in my house nursin' un um, an' while I setting' dar
I went fast ter sleep. How long I sot dar 'sleep, de Lord only
knows, but w'en I woked up, master wuz stan'in' in de do',
watching' me. He ain't say nothing yit I knowed dat man wuz
mad. He des turn on his heel an' walk away. I let you know
I put dem babies down an' hustled out er dat house mighty
"Well, sir, dat night de foreman come 'roun' an' tole me
dat I mus' go ter de field' de nex' morning Soon ez he say dat,
I up an' went ter de big house an' ax master w'at I gwine do
wid de babies ef I went ter de field He stood an' look at me,
he did, an' den he writ a note out er his pocket-book, an' tol'
me ter han' it ter de overseer. Dat w'at I done dat ve'y night,
an' de overseer, he took an' read de note, an' den he up an
say dat I mus' go wid de hoe-han's, way over ter de two-mile



"I went, kaze I bleeze ter go; yit all day long, whiles I
wuz hoein' I kin year dem babies cryin'. Look like sometimes
dey wuz right at me, an' den ag'in look like dey wuz way off
yander. I kep' on a-goin' an' I kep' on a-hoein', an' de babies
kep' on a-famishin'. Dey des fade away, an' bimeby dey died,
bofe un um on de same day. On dat day I had a fit an' fell in
de fier, an' dat how come I burnt up so.
Look like," said the woman, marking on the ground with
her bony forefinger- look like I kin year dem babies cryin'
yit, an' dat de reason folks call me Crazy Sue, kaze I kin year
um cryin' an' yuther folks can't. 'I 'm mighty glad dey can't,
too, kaze it 'ud break der heart."
"Why did n't you come and tell Papa about it?" said
Lucien, indignantly.
"Ah, Lord, honey!" exclaimed Crazy Sue, "yo' pa is a
mighty good man, an' a mighty good doctor, but he ain't got
no medicine w'at could 'a' kyored me an' my masterr"
In a little while Daddy Jake put in an appearance, and the
children soon forgot Crazy Sue's troubles, and began to think
about going home.
Daddy Jake," said Lucien, "when are you going to take
us back home? "
I want to go right now," said Lillian.
Daddy Jake scratched his head and thought the matter
Dey ain't no use talking, said he, "I got ter carry you
back an' set you down in sight er de house, but how I gwine
do it an' not git kotched ? Dat w'at troublin' me."



Why, Papa ain't mad," said Lucien. I heard him tell
that mean old overseer he had a great mind to take his buggy
whip to him for hitting you."
"Ain't dat man dead? exclaimed Daddy Jake in amaze-
No, he ain't," said Lucien. "Papa drove him off the
"Well, I be blest!" said the old man with a chuckle.
" W'at kinder head you reckon dat w'ite man got ? Honey,"
he went on, growing serious again, "is you sholy sho dat man
ain't dead ? "
Did n't I see him after you went away ? Did n't I hear
Papa tell him to go away? Did n't I hear Papa tell Mamma
he wished you had broken his neck ? Did n't I hear Papa tell
Mamma that you were a fool for running away?" Lucien
flung these questions at Daddy Jake with an emphasis that
left nothing to be desired.
"Well," said Daddy Jake, "dat mus' be so, an' dat bein'
de case, we '11 des start in de morning' an' git home ter supper.
We '11 go over yander ter Marse Meredy Ingram's an' borry
his carriage an' go home in style. I boun' you, dey '11 all be
glad to see us."
Daddy Jake was happy once more. A great burden had
been taken from his mind. The other negroes when they
came in toward night seemed to be happy, too, because the
old man could go back home; and there was not one but
would have swapped places with him. Randall was the last
to come, and he brought a big fat chicken.




"I wuz coming' 'long cross de woods des now," he said,
winking his eye and shaking his head at Daddy Jake, an',
bless gracious, dis chicken flew'd right in my han'. I say ter
myse'f, I did, 'Ole lady, you mus' know we got company at
our house,' an' den I clamped down on 'er, an' yer she is.
Now, 'bout dark, I '11 take 'er up yander an' make Marse
Ingram's cook fry 'er brown fer deze chillun, an' I '11 make 'er
gimme some milk."
Crazy Sue took the chicken, which had already been killed,
wet its feathers thoroughly, rolled it around in the hot embers,
and then proceeded to pick and clean it.
Randall's programme was carried out to the letter. Mr.
Meredith Ingram's cook fried the chicken for him and put in
some hot biscuit for good measure, and the milker gave him
some fresh milk, which she said would not be missed.
The children had a good supper, and they would have gone
to sleep directly afterward, but the thought of going home with
Daddy Jake kept them awake. Randall managed to tell
Daddy Jake, out of hearing of the children, that Dr. Gaston
and some of his negroes had been seen at Ross's mill that
Well," said Daddy Jake, I bleeze ter beat master home.
Ef he go back dar widout de chillun, my mistiss '11 drap right
dead on de flo'." This was his only comment.
Around the fire the negroes laughed and joked, and told
their adventures. Lillian felt comfortable and happy, and as
for Lucien, he felt himself a hero. He had found Daddy Jake,
and now he was going to carry him back home.


Once, when there was a lull in the talk, Lillian asked why
the frogs made so much fuss.
I speck it's kaze dey er mad wid Mr. Rabbit," said Crazy
Sue. Dey er trying' der best ter drive 'im outen de swamp."
What are they mad with the Rabbit for?" asked Lucien,
thinking there might be a story in the explanation.
Hit 's one er dem ole-time fusses," said Crazy Sue.
"Hit 's most too ole ter talk about."
"Don't you know what the fuss was about?" asked

"Well," said Crazy Sue, "one time Mr. Rabbit an' Mr.
Coon live close ter one anudder in de same neighborhoods.
How dey does now, I ain't a-tellin' you; but in dem times dey
want no hard feeling's 'twix' um. Dey des went 'long like two
ole cronies. Mr. Rabbit, he wuz a fisherman, and Mr. Coon,
he wuz a fisherman- "
And put 'em in pens," said Lillian, remembering an old
rhyme she had heard.
No, honey, dey ain't no Willium-Come-Trimbletoe in dis.
Mr. Rabbit an' Mr. Coon wuz bofe fishermans, but Mr. Rab-
bit, he kotch fish, an' Mr. Coon, he fished fer frogs. Mr.
Rabbit, he had mighty good luck, an' Mr. Coon, he had
mighty bad luck. Mr. Rabbit, he got fat an' slick, an' Mr.
Coon, he got po' an' sick.
Hit went on dis a-way tell one day Mr. Coon meet Mr.
Rabbit in de big road. Dey shook han's, dey did, an' den
Mr. Coon, he 'low:



Brer Rabbit, whar you git sech a fine chance er fish ?'
Mr. Rabbit laugh an' say: I kotch um outen de river,
Brer Coon. All I got ter do is ter bait my hook,' sezee.
Den Mr. Coon shake his head an' 'low: Den how come
I ain't kin ketch no frogs ?

4 "M
r /

4 .. .


Mr. Rabbit sat down in de road an' scratched fer fleas,
an' den he 'low: Hit 's kaze you done make um all mad,
Brer Coon. One time in de dark er de moon, you slipped
down ter de branch an' kotch de ole King Frog; an' ever
sence dat time, whenever you er passing' by, you kin year um
sing out, fus' one an' den anudder Yer lhe come/ Dar ke
goes/ Hit'im in de eye; hit 'im in de eye! Mash 'im an'



smash 'him; mash 'im an' smash 'im Yasser, dat w'at dey
say. I year um constant, Brer Coon, and dat des w'at dey
Den Mr. Coon up an' say: 'Ef dat de way dey gwine on,
how de name er goodness kin I ketch um, Brer Rabbit? I
bleeze ter have sump'n ter eat fer me an' my fambly con-
Mr. Rabbit sorter grin in de corner er his mouf, an' den
he say: 'Well, Brer Coon, bein' ez you bin so sociable 'long
wid me, an' ain't never showed yo' toofies w'en I pull yo' tail,
I '11 des whirl in an' he'p you out.'
Mr. Coon, he say: 'Thanky, thanky-do, Brer Rabbit.
Mr. Rabbit hung his fish on a tree lim', an' say: Now,
Brer Coon, you bleeze ter do des like I tell you.'
Mr. Coon 'lowed dat he would ef de Lord spared 'im.
Den Mr. Rabbit say: 'Now, Brer Coon, you des rack
down yander, an' git on de big san'-bar 'twix' de river and de
branch. W'en you git dar you mus' stagger like you sick, an'
den you mus' whirl roun' an' roun' an' drap down like you
dead. Atter you drap down, you mus' sorter jerk yo' legs
once er twice, an' den you mus' lay right still.. Ef fly light on
yo' nose, let 'im stay dar. Don't move; don't wink yo'
eye; don't switch yo' tail. Des lay right dar, an' 't won't
be long 'fo' you year fum me. Yit don't you move till I
give de word.'
"Mr. Coon, he paced off, he did, an' done des like Mr.
Rabbit tol' 'im. He staggered 'roun' on de san'-bank, an' den
he dropped down dead. Atter so long a time, Mr. Rabbit



come lopin' 'long, an soon 's he git dar, he squall out, 'Coon
dead!' Dis rousted de frogs, an' dey stuck dey heads up fer
ter see w'at all de rippit wuz 'bout. One great big green un
up an' holler, W'at de matter? JW'adl e matter? He talk
like he got a bad col'.
Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Coon dead !'
Frog say: Don't believe it! Don't believe it!
"'N'er frog say: Yes, he is! Yes, he is! Little bit er one
say: No, he ain't! No, he ain't!
Dey kep' on 'sputin' an' 'sputin', tell bimeby hit look like
all de frogs in de neighborhoods wuz dar. Mr. Rabbit look
like he ain't a-yearin' ner a-keerin' w'at dey do er say. He
sot dar in de san' like he gwine in mournin' fer Mr. Coon.
De Frogs kep' gittin' closer an' closer. Mr. Coon, he ain't
move. W'en a fly 'd git on 'im, Mr. Rabbit he 'd bresh
'im off.
Bimeby he 'low: 'Ef you want ter git 'im outen de way,
now 's yo' time, Cousin Frogs. Des whirl in an' bury him
deep in de san'.'
Big ole Frog say: How we gwine ter do it? How we
gwine ter do it?
Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Dig de san' out fum under 'im an' let
'im down in de hole.'
Den de Frogs dey went ter work sho nuff. Dey mus' 'a'
bin a hunderd un um, an' dey make dat san' fly, mon. Mr.
Coon, he ain't move. De Frogs, dey dig an' scratch in de
san' tell atter while dey had a right smart hole, an' Mr. Coon
wuz down in dar.



Bimeby big Frog holler: Dis dee5 nuJf ? Dis dee
nuf ?
"Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Kin you jump out?'
Big Frog say : Yes, I kin / Yes, I kin /

P": I'" "



Mr. Rabbit say: 'Den 't ain't deep nuff.'
Den de Frogs dey dig an' dey dig, tell, bimeby, big Frog
say : Dis dee nuff ? Dis deep nzuff
Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Kin you jump out ?'



Big Frog say: I des kin! I des kizn
Mr. Rabbit say: 'Dig it deeper.'
S"-De Frogs keep on diggin' tell, bimeby, big Frog holler
out: Dis deep nuff? Dis deep nuff
Mr. Rabbit 'low: 'Kin you jump out?'
Big Frog say: No, I can't! No, I can't! Come he'p
me Come he'p me /
Mr. Rabbit bust out laughing and holler out:
RISE UP, SANDY, AN' GIT YO' MEAT!' an' Mr. Coon riz."

Lucien and Lillian laughed heartily at this queer story,
especially the curious imitation of frogs both big and little that
Crazy Sue gave. Lucien wanted her to tell more stories, but
Daddy Jake said it was bedtime; and the children were soon
sound asleep.
The next morning Daddy Jake had them up betimes.
Crazy Sue took Lillian in her arms, and Daddy Jake took
Lucien on his back. As they had gone into the cane-brake,
so they came out. Randall and some of the other negroes
wanted to carry Lillian, but Crazy Sue would n't listen to them.
She had brought the little girl in, she said, and she was going
to carry her out. Daddy Jake, followed by Crazy Sue, went
in the direction of Mr. Meredith Ingram's house. It was on
a hill, more than a mile from the river, and was in a grove of
oak-trees. As they were making their way through a plum
orchard, not far from the house, Crazy Sue stopped.
Brer Jake," she said, dis is all de fur I 'm gwine. I 'm
'mos' too close ter dat house now. You take dis baby an' let



dat little man walk. 'T ain't many steps ter whar you gwine."
Crazy Sue wrung Daddy Jake's hand, stooped and kissed the
children, and with a God bless you all! disappeared in the
bushes, and none of the three ever saw her again.
Mr. Meredith Ingram was standing out in his front yard,
enjoying a pipe before breakfast. He was talking to himself
and laughing when Daddy Jake and the children approached.
Howdy, Mars' Meredy," said the old negro, taking off his
hat and bowing as politely as he could with the child in his
arms. Mr. Ingram looked at him through his spectacles and
over them.
"Ain't that Gaston's Jake?" he asked, after he had ex-
amined the group.
Yasser," said Daddy Jake, an' deze is my master's little
Mr. Ingram took his pipe out of his mouth.
"Why, what in the world !-Why, what under the sun !-
Well, if this does n't beat-why, what in the nation!"-Mr.
Ingram failed to find words to express his surprise.
Daddy Jake, however, made haste to tell Mr. Ingram that
the little ones had drifted down the river in a boat, that he had
found them, and wished to get them home just as quickly
as he could.
My master bin huntin' fer um, suh," said the old negro,
" and I want ter beat him home, kaze ef he go dar widout deze
chillun my mistiss '11 be a dead 'oman-she cert'n'y will, suh."
Well, well, well! exclaimed Mr. Ingram. If this don't
beat-why, of course, I '11 send them home. I '11 go with'em



d. l




Of course I will. Well, if this does n't-George!
the carriage. Fetch out Ben Bolt and Rob Roy, and

' 1;11

hitch up








go and get your breakfast. Jake, you go and help him, and
I '11 take these chaps in the house and warm 'em up. Come
on, little ones. We '11 have something to eat and then we '11
go right home to Pappy and Mammy." They went in,
Mr. Ingram muttering to himself, Well, if this does n't
beat ."
After breakfast Mr. Ingram, the children, Daddy Jake, and
George, the driver, were up and away, as the fox-hunters say.
Daddy Jake sat on the driver's seat with George, and urged
on the horses. They traveled rapidly, and it is well they did,
for when they came in sight of the Gaston place, Daddy Jake
saw his master entering the avenue that led to the house. The
old negro put his hands to his mouth and called so loudly that
the horses jumped. Dr. Gaston heard him and stopped, and
in a minute more had his children in his arms, and that night
there was a happy family in the Gaston house. But nobody
was any happier than Daddy Jake.



T HE little boy sat in a high chair and used his legs as
Sdrumsticks, much to the confusion of Uncle Remus, as it
Appeared. After a while the old man exclaimed:
S Well, my goodness en de gracious! how you ever in de
roun' worl' er anywhere's else speck me fer ter make any
headway in tellin' a tale wiles all dish yer racket gwine on ? I
don't want ter call nobody's pa, kase he mos' allers talks too
loud, en if I call der ma 't won't make so mighty much differ-
ence, kaze she done got so usen ter it dat she dunner w'en dey
er making' any fuss. I believe dat ef everything wuz ter git
right good en still on deze premises des one time, you' ma
would in about die wid de headache. Anyway, she 'd be
mighty sick, bekaze she ain't usen ter not havin' no fuss, en
she des could n't git 'long widout it.
I tell you right now, I 'd be afeard fer ter tell any tale
roun' yer, kaze de fust news I know'd I 'd git my eyes put
out, er my leg broke, er sump'n' n'er. I knows deze yer w'ite
chillun, mon! dat I does; I knows um. Dey '11 git de upper
hand er de niggers ef de Lord spar's um. En he mos' ingin-
ner'lly spar's um.




Well, now, ef you want ter hear dish yer tale w'at I bin
tu'nin' over in my min' you des got ter come en set right yer
in front er me, whar I kin keep my two eyes on you; kaze I
ain't gwine ter take no resks er no foolishness. Now, den, you
des better behave, bekaze hit don't cost me nothing' fer ter cut
dis tale right short off.
"One time der wuz a miller man w'at live by a river en
had a mill. He wuz a mighty smart man. He tuck so much
toll dat he tuck 'n buyed 'im a house, en he want ter rent dat
'ar house out ter folks, but de folks dey 'lowed dat de house
wuz ha'nted. Dey 'd come en rent de house, dey would, en
move in dar, en den go upsta'rs en go ter bed. Dey 'd go ter
bed, dey would, but dey could n't sleep, en time it got day
dey 'd git out er dat house.
De miller man, he ax'd um w'at de matter wuz, but dey
des shuck der head en 'low de house wuz ha'nted. Den he
tuck 'n try ter fine out w'at kind er ha'nt she wuz dat skeer
folks. He sleep in de house, but he ain't see nothing en de
mos' w'at he year wuz a big ole gray cat a-promenadin' roun
en hollerin'. Bimeby hit got so dat dey want no fun in havin'
de ha'nted house, en w'en folks 'd come 'long de miller man,
he 'd des up en tell um dat de house 'uz ha'nted. Some 'ud
go up en some would n't, but dem w'at went up didn't stay,
kaze des 'bout bedtime dey 'd fetch a yell en des come a-rushin'
down, en all de money in de Nunited States er Georgy would
n't git um fer ter go back up dar.
Hit went on dis away twel one time a preacher man com'
long dar en say he wanted some'rs ter stay. He was a great




big man, en he look like he wuz good according De miller
man say he hate mighty bad for to discommerdate 'im, but he
despintedly ain't got no place whar he kin put 'im 'cep' dat 'ar
ha'nted house. De preacher man say he des soon stay dar ez
anywhar's, kaze he bin livin' in deze low-groun's er sorrer too
long fer ter be sot back by any one hoss ha'nts. De miller
man 'lowed dat he wuz afeard de ha'nts 'ud worry 'im mightily,
but de preacher man 'low, he did, dat he use ter bein' worried,
en he up en tell de miller man dat he 'd a heap rather stay in
de house wid de ha'nt, no matter how big she is, dan ter stay
out doors in de rain.
So de miller man, he 'low he ain't got no mo' 'pology fer
ter make, bekaze ef de preacher man wuz ready fer ter face de
ha'nts and set up dar en out blink um, dey would n't be
nobody in de roun' world' no gladder dan 'im. Den de miller
man showed de preacher man how ter git in de house en had
'im a great big fier built. En atter de miller man wuz done
gone, de preacher man drawed a cheer up ter de fier en waited
fer de ha'nts, but dey ain't no ha'nts come. Den w'en dey
ain't no ha'nts come, de preacher man tuck 'n open up he
satchel en got 'im out some spar' ribs en sot um by de fier fer
ter cook, en den he got down en said he pra'rs, en den he got
up en read he Bible. He wuz a mighty good man, mon, en
he prayed en read a long time. Bimeby, w'en his spar' ribs
git done, he got some bread out'n he satchel, en fixed fer ter
eat his supper.
By de time he got all de meat off'n one er de ribs, de
preacher man listened, en he year'd a monst'us scramblin' en


scratchin' on de wall. He look around he did, en dar wuz a
great big black cat a-sharpenin' 'er claws on de door facin'.


Folks, don't talk! dat 'ar cat wuz er sight! Great long w'ite
toofs en great big yaller eye-balls a-shinin' like dey wuz lit up




way back in 'er head. She stood dar a minit, dat ole black cat
did, en den she 'gun ter sidle up like she wuz gwine ter mount
dat preacher man right dar en den. But de preacher man, he
des shoo'd at 'er, en it seem like dis sorter skeer'd 'er, kaze
she went off.
But de preacher man, he kep' his eye open, en helt on
ter his spar' rib. Present'y he year de ole black cat coming'
back, en dis time she fotch wid 'er a great big gang er cats.
Dey wuz all black des like she wuz, en der eye-balls shinedede
en der lashes wuz long en w'ite. Hit look like de preacher
man wuz a gwine ter git surroundered.
Dey come a-sidlin' up, dey did, en de ole black cat made
a pass at de preacher man like she wuz a gwine ter t'ar he
eyes out. De preacher man dodged, but de nex' pass she
made de preacher man fotch 'er wipe wid his spar' rib en cut
off one er 'er toes. Wid dat de ole black cat fotch a yell dat
you might a yeard a mile, en den she gin herselff a sort er a
twis' en made her disappearance up de chimbley, en w'en she
do dat all de yuther cats made der disappearance up de chim-
bley. De preacher man he got up, he did, en looked und' de bed
fer ter see ef he kin fine any mo' cats, but dey wuz all done gone.
Den he tuck 'n pick up de cat toe w'at he done knock off
wid de spar' rib, en wrop it up in a piece er paper en put it in
he pocket. Den he say his pra'rs some mo', en went ter bed
en slep' right straight along twel broad daylight, en nuthin'
ain't dast ter bodder 'im.
Nex' morning' de preacher man got up, he did, en say his
pra'rs en eat his breakkus, en den he 'low ter hisse'f dat he '11



go by en tell de miller man dat he mighty much erblige. 'Fo'
he start, hit come 'cross he min' 'bout de cats w'at pester 'im
de night befo', and he tuck 'n feel in he pockets fer de big black
cat toe w'at he done cut offwid de spar' rib. But it seems like de
toe done grow in de night, en bless goodness! w'en he unwrop
it 't want nuthin' less dan a great big finger wid a ring on it.
So de preacher man tuck 'n fix up all his contrapments, en
den call on de miller man en tol' 'im he wuz mighty much erblige
kaze he let 'im stay in de house. De miller man wuz 'stonish'
fer ter see de preacher man, kaze he knew dat w'en folks stay
all night in dat house dey ain't come down no mo'. He wuz
'stonish', but he did n't say much. He des stan' still en
But de preacher man, he up 'n ax 'bout de miller man's
wife, en say he wants ter see 'er en tell 'er good-bye, bein' ez
how dey 'd all bin so good. So de miller man, he tuck 'n kyar
de preacher inter de room whar his wife wuz layin' in bed.
De ole 'oman had de counterpin drawed up und' 'er chin, but
she look mighty bad roun' de eyes. Yit, she tuck 'n howdied
de preacher man en tole 'im he wuz mighty welcome.
Dey talk en talk, dey did, en matter w'ile de preacher man
hol' out his han' fer ter tell de 'oman good-bye; but de 'oman,
she helt out 'er lef' han', she did, like she want dat fer ter git
shucken. But de preacher man would n't shake dat un. He
say dat ain't nigh gwine ter do, bekaze w'en folks got any
perliteness lef' dey don't never hol' out de lef' han'. De 'oman
she say her right wuz cripple, but her ole man 'low he ain't
never hear 'bout dat befo', en den he tuck 'n make 'er pull it



out from und' de kivver, en den dey seed dat one er 'er fingers
wuz done clean gone. De miller man he up 'n 'low:
How come dis ?'
De 'oman she 'low, 'I cut it off.'
De miller man he 'low, How you cut it off?'
De 'oman she 'low, I knock it off.'
De miller man he 'low, Wharbouts you knock it off?'
De 'oman she 'low, 'I broke it off.'
De miller man he 'low, 'When you break it off?'
Den de 'oman she ain't say nuthin'. She des lay dar, she
did, en pant en look skeered. De preacher man he study a
little en den he say he speck he kin kyo' dat han', en he tuck
de finger out 'n he pocket en tried it on de 'oman's han', en it
fit! Yassar! it fit in de place right smick smack smoove. Den
de preacher man up en tell de miller man dat de 'oman wuz a
witch, en wid dat de 'oman fetched a yell en kivvered 'er head
wid de counterpin.
Yit dis ain't do 'er no good, kaze de preacher man say
he done look in de books en de onliest way fer ter kyo' a witch
is ter bu'n 'er; en it ain't look so bad, nuther, kaze when dey
tied 'er she tuck 'n tu'n ter be a great big black cat, en dat 's
de way she wuz w'en she wuz burnt."



U NCLE REMUS'S little patron seemed to be so shocked
at the burning of the woman that the old man plunged at
once into a curious story about a little boy and his two dogs.
One time," said Uncle Remus, scratching his head as if
by that means to collect his scattered ideas, dere wuz a 'oman
livin' alongsidee er de big road, en dish yer 'oman she had one
little boy. Seem like ter me dat he mus' 'a' bin des 'bout yo'
size. He mout 'a' bin a little broader in de shoulder en a little
longer in de leg, yit, take 'im up one side en down de udder,
he wuz des 'bout yo' shape en size. He wuz a mighty smart
little boy, en his mammy sot lots by 'im. Seem like she ain't
never have no luck 'cept'n 'long wid dat boy, kaze dey wuz one
time w'en she had a little gal, en, bless yo' soul! somebody
come 'long en tote de little gal off, en w'en dat happen de
'oman ain't have no mo' little gal, en de little boy ain't have
no mo' little sister. Dis make bofe er um mighty sorry, but look
like de little boy wuz de sorriest, kaze he show it de mosest.
Some days he 'd take a notion fer ter go en hunt his little
sister, en den he 'd go down de big road en clam a big pine
tree, en git right spang in de top, en look all roun' fer ter see



ef he can't see his little sister some'rs in de woods. He could
n't see 'er, but he 'd stay up dar in de tree en swing in de win'
en 'low ter hisself dat maybe he mout see 'er bimeby.
One day, w'iles he wuz a-settin' up dar, he see two mighty
fine ladies walking' down de road. He clam down out 'n de
tree, he did, en run en tol' his mammy. Den she up en ax:
"' How is dey dress, honey?'
"'Mighty fine, mammy, mighty fine, puffy-out petticoats
en long green veils.'
"' How des dey look, honey ?'
Spick spang new, mammy.
'Dey ain't none er our kin, is dey, honey ?'
"' Dat dey ain't, mammy-dey er mighty fine ladies.'
De fine ladies, dey come on down de road, dey did, en
stop by de 'oman's house, en beg 'er fer ter please en gi' um
some water. De little boy, he run en fotch um a gourd full,
en dey put de gourd und' der veils en drunk, en drunk, en
drunk des like dey wuz mighty nigh perish fer water. De
little boy watch um. 'Reckly, he holler out:
"Mammy, mammy! W'at you recken? Dey er lappin'
de water.' De 'oman holler back:
I recken dat 's de way de quality folks does, honey.'
Den de ladies beg fer some bread, en de little boy tuck
um a pone. Dey eat it like dey wuz mighty nigh famish fer
bread. Bimeby de little boy holler out en say:
"' Mammy, mammy W'at you recken? Dey er got great
long tushes.' De 'oman, she holler back:
"' I recken all de quality folks is got um, honey.



Den de ladies ax fer some water fer ter wash der han's,
en de little boy brung um some. He watch um, en bimeby he
holler out:
Mammy, mammy! W'at you recken ? Dey got little
bit er hairy han's en arms.' De 'oman, she holler back:
"' I recken all de quality folks is got um, honey.'
Den de ladies beg de 'oman fer ter please en let de little
boy show um whar de big road forks. But de little boy don't
want ter go. He holler out:
Mammy, folks don't hatter be showed whar de road
forks'; but de 'oman she 'low:
"' I recken de quality folks does, honey.
De little boy, he 'gun ter whimple en cry kaze he don't
want ter go wid de ladies, but de 'oman say he oughter be
'shame er hisse'f fer ter be gwine on dat away right 'fo' de
quality folks, en mo' 'n dat, he mout run upon his little sister
en fetch 'er home.
Now dish yer little boy had two mighty bad dogs. One
er um wuz name Minnyminny Morack, en de 't'er one wuz
name Follerlinsko, en dey wuz so bad dey hatter be tied in
de yard day en night, 'cep' w'en dey wuzent a-huntin'. So de
little boy he went en got a pan er water en sot 'im down in de
middle er de flo', en den he went en got 'im a willer lim', en he
stuck it in de groun'. Den he 'low:
"' Mammy, w'en de water in dish yer pan tu'ns ter blood,
den you run out en tu'n loose Minnyminny Morack en Foller-
linsko, en den w'en you see dat dar willer lim' a-shakin', you
run en sick um on my track.'



De 'oman, she up 'n say she 'd tu'n de dogs loose, en den
de little boy stuck he han's in he pockets en went on down de
road a wisserlin' des same ez enny yuther little boy, 'cep' dat
he wuz lots smarter. He went on down de road, he did, en de
fine quality ladies dey come on behind .
De furder he went de faster he walk. Dis make de quality
ladies walk fas', too, en 't want so mighty long 'fo' de little boy
year um making' a mighty kuse fuss, en w'en he tu'n 'roun',
bless gracious! dey wuz a-pantin', kaze dey wuz so tired en
hot. De little boy 'low ter hisse'f dat it mighty kuse how ladies
kin pant same ez a wil' varment, but he say he speck dat de
way de quality ladies does w'en dey gits hot en tired, en he make
like he can't year um, kaze he want ter be nice en perlite.
"Atter a w'ile, w'en de quality ladies think de little boy
want looking' at um, he seed one er um drap down on 'er all-
fours en trot 'long des like a varment, en 't want long 'fo' de
yuther one drapt down on 'er all-fours. Den de little boy
Shoo! Ef dat de way quality ladies res' derse'f w'en
dey git tired I reckon a little chap 'bout my size better be fixin'
fer ter res' hisse'f.'
So he look 'roun', he did, en he tuck'n pick 'im out a
great big pine tree by de side er de road, en 'gun ter clam it.
Den w'en dey see dat, one er de quality ladies 'low:
"'My goodness! W'at in de world' you up ter now?'
Little boy he say, sezee:
I'm des a clamin' a tree fer ter res' my bones.' Ladies,
dey 'low:



'Why n't you res' um on de groun'?' Little boy say,
sezee :

// //

I i


"' Bekaze I like ter git up whar it cool en high.'
" De quality ladies, dey tuck 'n walk 'roun' en 'roun' de tree


like dey wuz medjun it fer ter see how big it is. Bimeby, atter
w'ile, dey say, sezee:
"' Little boy, little boy! you better come down frum dar
en show us de way ter de forks er de road.' Den de little boy
"' Des keep right on, ladies--you '11 fin' de forks er de
road; you can't miss um. I 'm afeard fer ter come down, kaze
I might fall en hurt some er you all.' De ladies dey say,
'You better come down yer'fo' we run en tell yo' mammy
how bad you is.' De little boy 'low:
Wiles you er tellin' 'er please um' tell 'er how skeerd
I is.'
"Den de quality ladies got mighty mad. Dey walked
'roun' dat tree en fairly snorted. Dey pulled off der bonnets,
en der veils, en der dresses, en, lo en beholes! de little boy
seen dey wuz two great big panthers. Dey had great big eyes,
en big sharp tushes, en great long tails, en dey look up at de
little boy en growl en grin at 'im twel he come mighty nigh
havin' a chill. Dey tried ter clam de tree, but dey had done
trim der claws so dey could git on gloves, en dey could n't
clam no mo'.
Den one er um sot down in de road en made a kuse mark
in de san', en der great long tails tu'n'd ter axes, en no sooner
is der tails tu'n ter axes dan dey 'gun ter cut de tree down. I
ain't dast ter tell you how sharp dem axes wuz, kaze you
would n't nigh believe me. One er um stood on one side er
de tree, en de yuther one stood on de yuther side, en dey



whack at dat tree like dey wuz takin' a holiday. Dey whack
out chips ez big ez yo' hat, en 't want so mighty long 'fo' de
tree wuz ready fer ter fall.
But w'iles de little boy wuz setting' up dar, skeerd mighty
nigh ter def, hit come inter his min' dat he had some eggs in
his pocket w'at he done brung wid 'im fer ter eat whenever he
git hongry. He tuck out one er de eggs en broke it, en say:
'Place, fill up!' en, bless yo' soul! de place fill up sho 'nuff, en
de tree look des 'zackly like nobody ain't bin a-cuttin' on it.
But dem ar panthers dey wuz werry vig'rous. Dey des
spit on der han's en cut away. W'en dey git de tree mighty
nigh cut down de little boy he pull out 'n'er egg en broke it,
en say, Place, fill up!' en by de time he say it de tree wuz
done made soun' agin. Dey kep' on dis away twel de little
boy 'gun ter git skeerd agin. He done broke all he eggs,
'ceptin' one, en dem ar creeturs wus des a-cuttin' away like
dey wuz venomous, w'ich dey mos' sholy wuz.
Des 'bout dat time de little boy mammy happen ter
stumble over de pan er water w'at wuz setting' down on de flo',
en dar it wuz all done tu'n ter blood. Den she tuck 'n run en
unloose Minnyminny Morack en Follerlinsko. Den w'en she
do dat she see de willer lim' a-shakin', en den she put de dogs
on de little boy track, en away dey went. De little boy year
um a-comin', en he holler out:
"' Come on, my good dogs. Here, dogs, here.'
"Dey panthers dey stop choppin' en lissen. One ax de
yuther one w'at she year. Little boy say:
You don' year nothing Go on wid yo' choppin'.'



De panthers dey chop some mo', en den dey think dey
year de dogs a-comin'. Den dey try der bes' fer ter git away,
but 't want no use. Dey ain't got time fer ter change der axes
back inter tails, en co'se dey can't run wid axes draggin' behind'
um. So de dogs cotch um. De little boy, he 'low:
Shake um en bite um. Drag um 'roun' en 'roun' twel
you drag um two mile.' So de dogs dey drag um 'roun' two
mile. Den de little boy say, sezee:
Shake um en tar um. Drag um 'roun' en 'roun' twel
you drag um ten mile.' So dey drag um ten mile, en by de
time dey got back, de panthers wuz col' en stiff.
Den de little boy clum down out 'n de tree, en sot down
fer ter res' hisse'f. Bimeby atter w'ile, he 'low ter hisse'f dat
bein' he had so much fun, he believe he takes his dogs en go
way off in de woods fer ter see ef he can't fin' his little sister.
He call his dogs, he did, en went off in de woods, en dey ain't
bin gone so mighty fur 'fo' he seed a house in de woods away
off by itself.
De dogs dey went up en smelt 'roun', dey did, en come
back wid der bristles up, but de little boy 'low he 'd go up dar
anyhow en see w'at de dogs wuz mad 'bout. So he call de
dogs en went todes de house, en w'en he got close up he saw
a little gal totin' wood en water. She wuz a mighty purty
little gal, kaze she had a milk-white skin, en great long yaller
hair; but 'er cloze wuz all in rags, en she wuz crying kaze
she hatter work so hard. Minnyminny Morack en Follerlinsko
wagged der tails w'en dey seed de little gal, en de little boy
know'd by dat dat she wuz his sister.



So he went up en ax er w'at 'er name is, en she say she
dunner w'at 'er name is, kaze she so skeerd she done fergit.
Den he ax 'er w'at de name er goodness she cryin' 'bout, en
she say she cryin' kaze she hatter work so hard. Den he ax
'er who de house belong ter, en she 'low it b'long ter a great
big ole black B'ar, en dis ole B'ar make 'er tote wood en water
all de time. She say de water is ter go in de big wash-pot,
en de wood is fer ter make de pot bile, en de pot wuz ter cook
folks w'at de great big ole B'ar brung home ter he chilluns.
De little boy did n't tell de little gal dat he wuz 'er br'er,
but he 'low dat he was gwine ter stay en eat supper wid de big
ole B'ar. De little gal cried en-'low he better not, but de little
boy say he ain't feared fer ter eat supper wid a B'ar. So dey
went in de house, en w'en de little boy got in dar, he seed dat
de B'ar had two great big chilluns, en one er um wuz squattin'
on de bed, en de yuther one wuz squattin' down in de h'ath. De
chilluns, dey wuz bofe er um name Cubs, fer short, but de little
boy want skeerd er um, kaze dar wuz his dogs fer ter make
way wid um ef dey so much ez roll der eye-ball.
De ole B'ar wuz a mighty long time coming' back, so de
little gal she up 'n fix supper, anyhow, en de little boy he
tuck 'n scrouge Cubs fus on one side en den on yuther, en him en
de little gal got much ez dey want. Atter supper de little boy
tole de little gal dat he 'd take en comb 'er ha'r des ter w'ile
away de time; but de little gal ha'r ain't bin comb fer so long,
en it am got in such a tankle, dat it make de po' creetur cry fer
ter hear anybody talking' 'bout combine' un it. Den de little boy
'low he ain't gwine ter hurt 'er, en he tuck 'n warm some



water in a pan en put it on 'er ha'r, en den he comb en curlt
it des ez nice ez you mos' ever see.
W'en de ole B'ar git home he wuz mighty tuck 'n back
w'en he seed he had com'ny, en w'en he see um all setting'
down like dey come den fer ter stay. But he wuz mighty
perlite, en he shuck han's all 'roun', en set down by de fier en
dry his boots, en ax 'bout de craps, en 'low dat de wedder
would be monstus fine ef dey could git a little season er
Den he tuck 'n make a great 'miration over de little gal's
ha'r, en he ax de little boy how in de roun' worl' kin he curl it
en fix it so nice. De little un 'low it 's easy enough. Den de
ole B'ar say he believe he like ter git his ha'r curlt up dat way,
en de little boy say:
"' Fill de big pot wid water.'
"De ole B'ar filled de pot wid water. Den de little boy
'Buil' a fier und' de pot en heat de water hot.'
"W'en de water got scaldin' hot, de little boy say:
All ready, now. Stick yo' head in. Hit 's de onliest way
fer ter make yo' ha'r curl.'
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 put-
tin' 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
What did they do then ?" asked the little boy who had
been listening to the story. The old man took off his specta-
cles and cleaned the glasses on his coat-tail.
Well, sir," he went on, "de little boy tuck'n kyard his sis-
ter home, an' his mammy says she ain't never gwine ter set no
sto' by folks wid fine cloze, kase 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 had n't but a bin fer
de war, dey 'd a bin a-livin' dar now. Bekaze war is a mighty
dangersome business."



"O NE time," said Uncle Remus, putting the "noses"
Sof 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 fur 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 '11 hatten 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 rep-
tules is a-gittin' seal fat. No longer 'n yistiddy, I wuz coming'
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 myse'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 growing' 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, fudder-
mo', 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 had der
smoke-'ouse 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 '11 take en hide de ginger-cakes, en der sim-
mon beer, en der w'atzisnames, 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 in-
creasing 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 nothing Bimeby, w'iles he setting'
'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 behind' 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

"- ''. >' ,-,

i,'.- 'i ".* l _i. "

j ,' i' .


went back; en w'en Mr. Black Snake come out en went off,
Brer Rabbit, he tuck 'n sing de song, en de door flew'd open,
en in he went. He went in, he did, en w'en he got in dar, he
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 believe he '11 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', trying' 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 nothing He 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat he wuz 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 wuz gwine ter 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 tied 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 'twix' 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."


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 '11 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 varmints kin creep up en slip up ez de case may
be, but dey ain't gwine ter slip up en ketch dem creeturs
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 ain't 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 to 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 '11 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
When was that, Uncle Remus ? the little boy asked, as
he settled himself in the split-bottom chair in anticipation of a
"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 ez '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
would n't 'a' had ter go no fur ways fer de fedders.
But ne'er min' '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 make 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 endeavor-
ing 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' callers inginer'lly he done he pomernadin' 'twix' sun-
down 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 evening 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' everybody 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 '11 des shake han's wid one un um en den I '11 go.'
"Well," continued Uncle Remus, Brer Fox went up en
shuck han's wid one un um, en he mus' '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-bye 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 skeerd dat dey tu'n right pale on de neck en on de
gills, en ef you don't believe me you kin go up dar in de
garden 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
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-k, look, look/ Dar he is, dar he is! Go
'way, go 'way /'
Some folks say dat dey holler, 'Pot-rack /a-ot-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."





U NCLE 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 chuckwill'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 'im how ter fly. He got atter 'im, en he
kep' atter 'im; he begged en 'swaded, he '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 nothing' else ain't gwine
do 'im, he '11 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 '11 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 Buz-
zard 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 ker-
blam-mn-m! En ef it had n't but er bin fer de strenk er
he shell, he 'd er got bust wide open. He lay dar, ole Brer

~I 'I I ~-

Tarrypin, en bimeby he lit fer ter make inquirements. I,
^-- ' I ",.


"' Ole Brer Buzzard, he sail round' he did, en look at Brer
Tarrypin, en bimeby he lit fer ter make inquirements.



"' Brer Buzzard, I 'm teetotally ruint,' sezee.
"'Well, Brer Tarrypin, I tole you not ter try ter fly,'
Hush up, Brer Buzzard!' sezee; 'I flew'd good ez any-
body, but you fergot fer ter l'arn me how ter light. Flyin' is
easy ez falling 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 pointedd de day fer de trial fer
ter come off.
W'iles dey wuz making' all der 'rangerments, Brer Fox
year talk dat Brer Rabbit have done gone en hire Brer Buz-
zard 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', ole Brer Fox did, en wink at Brer Buzzard, en Brer
Buzzard, he wink back good ez he kin. Wid dat, Brer Fox
tuck a running' start en clam a leanin' tree. Brer Rabbit say
dat better dan he 'speckted 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
deze 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-fzi / 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 did n'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 bar-
gain he done make wid Brer Fox. Dis make Brer Rabbit
laugh wuss 'n befo'.
"' Law, Brer Buzzard,' sezee, w'en it come ter making' 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 '11 be mighty much erbleege ef you kyar me
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.
"Yasser," the old man went on, "ole Brer Rabbit retch
down en bit Brer Buzzard under de wing, right spang in he
most ticklish en tendersome spot. Co'se dis make Brer Buz-
zard 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


1 ['EN you git a leetle bit older dan w'at you is, honey,"
said Uncle Remus to the little boy, "you '11 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 inter-
ested 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 believe
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'flots
wuss dan yuther folks kin fool um, en ef you don't believe 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.
See Nights with Uncle Remus," xliv., p. 267.


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