Bypaths In Dixie Part 12

Willis moved closer. "Was all of 'em sittin' together, Mammy?"

"Nor, dey wus fur nuf erpart fur bofe uv 'em ter keep der own crowd."

"Where did Brer Mule sit?" Mary Van remembered to ask.

"And where did Uncle Bell Weth'r take the sheep?" put in Willis.

"Brer Mule had bisnes' dat take 'im clean off'n de plantation, honey, an'

dat bisnes' keep 'im plum tell 'lection day's ov'r. Yas, Lawd, an' er whole pa.s.sel er yo' pa's frien's went wid him ter hope 'im ten' ter his bisnes'."

"Did Uncle Bell Weth'r and the sheep go, too?"

"Nor, son, dey jes' nach.e.l.ly ain' got der mines sot yit, an' dey ain'

settin' wid one nur t'other. Dey huddl'd tergeth'r right b'twixt de two, waitin' fur Unk Bell Weth'r ter ring de bell, den all uv 'em gwine move tergeth'r.

"But youall keep er talkin' so much, Mist'r Race Hoss an' Bline Billy gittin' wo' out settin' on dem stumps."

"Tell 'em to start, Mammy."

"Dey done start, baby. Bline Billy's ginny chorus jes' er pot'rackin' hard es dey kin, 'caze Brer Bull Frog so full er jug-er-rum, dat he start 'em off too soon. Cose de gooses turn loose soon es de ginnies give de fus 'potter-rack.'

"Cap'n Goat tuk an' whisp'r ter Brer Turkey Buzz'rd ter go tell Jim Duck fur de Lawd sake ter stop de fuss, so Jack Donkey kin speak, 'caze Mist'r Race Hoss wus jes' er speakin' gran' an' gittin' way erhead; an' Cap'n Goat settin' up dar pullin' his whisk'rs an' farely chawin' de een's off.

Fin'ly Brer Turkey Buzzard whisper ter Jim Puddle Duck, but Jim Duck sorter deef an' he think Brer Buzzard say fur his fambly ter go he'p 'long de fuss. So he go, he do, an' geth'r 'em up, an' Miss Screech Owel's fokes, too, an' dey starts sich ernuth'r holl'rin' es n.o.body ain' nuv'r heah befo' nur sense. Cap'n Goat try ter shout out er few wurds, but n.o.body can' heah er wurd, so Mist'r Durham Cow raise his beller ter try ter hope him, but dat done do no good. Den Mist'r Tom Cat see ef he kin git in er wurd, but n.o.body wud know he wus talkin' les'n dey see his mouf wurkin'.

"Whoopee! Jack Donkey wus so mad, he hop up ter holler, too, but Mist'r Wile Cat hidin' b'hime 'im, grabs 'im by de kiv'r an' tell 'im ter set still tell dey holl'rs derse'fs out. He say, 'Den you kin speak atter Mist'r Race Hoss gits all wo' out.' But nor suhree, dat 'vice ain' suitin'

Jack Donkey, an' whut's mo', he too hard haided ter lis'n enyhow, so he up an' start ter holl'rin his 'He-haw, he-haw.'

"Whoopee! dat stop de fuss! Somebody 'gun ter holl'r: 'Bline Billy ain'

n.o.body but ole Jack Donkey!' All uv 'em say, 'De idee er Jack Donkey puttin' hisse'f up ter be rul'r er de beastes.'

"Unk Bell Weth'r shake de bell, an' all de sheep flocks ter Mist'r Race Hoss's side.

"Oh, I tell yer dar wusn't but er han'ful er fokes lef' on Jack's side."

"Why did Jack Donkey pull his cov'r off, Mammy?"

"He didn't hatt'r pull his kiv'r off, son, caze Jack call out his own name--can't you tell er donkey whin you heahs him bray?"

At that moment a band and shouts of people were heard coming up the street.

"Lawsee! chillun! Less git down fum heah; I b'leef in m' soul Mist'r Race Hoss done beat dis race sho' nuf."

X

MISTER BAD 'SIMMON TREE

"Look at that big old grape tree, Mammy Phyllis," said Mary Van, as she ran beside the little boy gathering wild flowers in the woods back of the house.

"That's not a grape tree, Mary Van--it's a grape vine," corrected Willis.

"'Tain't, it's a tree, isn't it, Mammy?"

"It's a vine," he emphasized with a shake of her arm.

"Make him stop, he's knocking my flowers."

"Dey ain't no use youall 'sputin' 'bout Miss Wile Grape. Bofe uv yer's got hit right. She uster be Miss Wile Grape Vine 'fo' she take an' marry ole man Holl'r Tree. Now she call herse'f Miss Grape Vine Tree."

"Where's Old Man Holl'r Tree?"

"Yond'rs him,--standin' b'hime Miss Wile Grape. Dey's er heap er men fokes hidin' b'hime der ole ladies in dis worl', too! Yas, suh! an' dey's er heap uv 'ooman fokes dat act jes' like Miss Wile Grape done whin Mist'r Wise Oak tell her long time ergo ter stop keepin' comp'ny wid Holl'r Tree.

Mist'r Wise Oak tell her Holl'r Tree ain' fit'n fur nuthin' but ter hide possums in.

"She say, 'I doan keer ef he can't do nuthin', I kin make er livin' fur bofe uv us, but I'm jes' bleeg ter have sumbody ter lean on.'

"He say, 'Doan git er long s' fas', Wile Grape; lay low fur er while, an'

'twon' be long 'fo' young Johnnie Live Oak'll reach out an' ax you ter lean on him.'

"She say, 'No, I ain' gwine 'ginst Holl'r Tree jes' 'caze he's gettin' ole an' ball.'

"Miss Crab Apple tell her, 'Dat's right, grab yer fus' chance, 'caze yer ain' gwina git no mo'.' Dat hu't po' lit'le Wile Grape's feelin's, an' she sorter wilt an' creep on de groun' tell Miss Bizzy Bee come an' tell her Holl'r Tree say ef she doan come on, he gwine tumble ter pieces. Den she lif' up her haid an' git Bob Win' ter take her up ter Holl'r Tree, an' she bin dar ev'r sense, tryin' ter hide his ole ugly se'f; an' de wurser he look, de mo' purty leaves an' grapes she try ter kiv'r ov'r him."

"What'd Miss Crab Apple say?" Mary Van wanted to hear the gossip.

"n.o.body ain' lis'n ter whut she say, 'caze she so sour an' mean, ev'ybody keep out'n her way."

Willis darted ahead. "Look, Mammy, look at the persimmons!" and he began hurling stones towards the tree.

"n.o.body doan want no green 'simmons, boy."

"They're not green, they're yellow," and another stone followed.

"Let dem 'simmons 'lone, I tell yer--dey ain' fit'n fur nothin', doan keer ef dey is yaller. De fros' got ter fall on 'em 'fo' eb'n possums'll eat 'em." She added, under her breath, "Like dese heah sour fokes dat don't nuv'r git sweet tell trub'le hit 'em."

"I don't care, I'm going to knock 'em down anyway."

"Ahah, you gwine be hard-haid'd jes' like 'Simmon Tree wus whin he wus er lit'le hard-haid'd boy tree, an' his ma tell him ter stop sa.s.syin' old fokes."

"Who did he sa.s.sy?" Willis looked with indecision at the stone in his hand.

"I ain' gwine tell yer nuthin' tell yer th'ows dat rock down an' gits fur nuf fum 'Simmon Tree ter keep him fum lis'nin' ter whut I says, 'caze he 'memb'rs long time ergo whin all de trees wus waitin' ter see which one gwine have de fines' c.r.a.p er chillun. Early hyah in de spring, 'fo' Jack Fros' go ter see Miss White Snow, Dandy Lion come peepin' out; all de trees bowin' an' swingin' derse'fs erbout axin' de news 'bout der chillun.

Dandy Lion say, 'Don't yer heah lit'le Weepin' Will'r cryin' an' holl'rin'

ov'r yond'r now?' Sho' nuf dar she wus tellin' her ma 'bout lit'le Maple Tree an' all uv 'em pus.h.i.+n' her out fus' ter see ef Jack Fros' fixin' ter pack his trunk."

The stone slid noiselessly from Willis's hand, while Phyllis led the way beyond the green persimmons.