Bypaths In Dixie Part 9

"But, yer see, Billy wus too hard-head'd ter lis'n ter enybody, so he up an' say, 'I can't hep whut you seen; Sis' Cat say she gwine have spechul vit'als fur me, an' I'm gwine!' Den Billy walk up an' down breshen de flies off'n his back wid his long tail."

Seeing that some objections were about to be raised as to the length of the tail, Phyllis hastened to add: "In dem days goats had tails des like hosses. Soon es Billy menshun Sis' Cat's name, Ned Dog tell him Sis' Cat layin' er trap fur him; but 'tain't no use ter argufy wid hard-head'd fokes like Billy, so Ned Dog let 'im g'long ter de party; but he crope close on b'hime 'im, an' on de way, he come up wid Mist'r Bloodhoun' an'

ax 'im ter g'long wid 'im. Mist'r Bloodhoun' say he pow'ful broke down trailin' er runaway n.i.g.g.e.r all day, but ef Ned was 'spectin' er rompus he 'speck he'd hatt'r jine him. Bimeby, when Billy wus mos' down ter de sweet-gum tree, dey hides deyse'fs in er clump er red haw bushes. Ole Brer Bar he had done come down fum de mount'in early, an' wus standin' b'hime de tree des er gorgin' 'esse'f wid honey an' peepin' out, lookin' fur Billy Goat. When he see Billy come switchin' 'esse'f 'cross he pastur', he 'gun ter fidgitin' so he can't wait ter git es teef in him, an' he bus'

out fum b'hime de tree an' come er runnin' t'ards Billy. Billy wus so skeered he jes' had sense ernuf ter turn 'esse'f roun'! Brer Bar ketch 'im by de tail. Brer Bar pull, an' Billy pull. Billy pull, an' Brer Bar pull!

Bimeby, de tail come off in Brer Bar's claw. Den Billy lit out; but Brer Bar grab 'im by de b'hime leg. Des den Mister Bloodhoun' an' Ned Dog wus on top er Brer Bar! Ned Dog grab Brer Bar's paw in es teefs an' Brer Bar drop Billy an' grab Ned by de ye'r an' wus mos' clampin' es jaws on Ned's haid when Mist'r Bloodhoun' clinch 'im by de th'oat! Brer Bar ax Mister Bloodhoun' please ter turn es th'oat loose, dat he got sumthin' ter tell 'im! Mist'r Bloodhoun' 'nounce: 'I won't turn you plum loose, but I'll hol' yo' th'oat easy like tell you kin 'splain yo'se'f!'

"Den Brer Bar splainify 'esse'f an' beg so hard, tell bimeby dey 'scuses 'im, an' he amble' on home fas' es he kin. Den dey come on home ter settle matters wid Sis' Cat. Sis' Cat was er settin' by Billy moanin' wid him 'bout losin' es tail."

"Did his tail ever grow out any more?" asked a sympathetic boy.

"No, honey, goats ain't nuv'r had no tails ter speak uv sense dat day; but hoopee! hyah come Ned Dog an' Mister Bloodhoun'! Dey come er yelpin' wid dey tongues er hangin' out. Dey pounce right whar Sis' Cat wus settin', but dey ain't pounce quick as Sis' Cat kin jump; 'caze by de time dey hits Sis' Cat's seat, Sis' Cat, she was plum on top er de cow house, standin'

dar wid 'er back up, an' her tail bushy out. Ned Dog dare her ter come down an' splain 'erse'f; but Sis' Cat say she ain't got nuthin' ter 'splain, an' what's mo' she doan take no dog's dare. An' dat howc.u.m dey quoil an 'spute whensumever dey meets tell dis day."

"But, Mammy Phyllis, _all_ cats are not as mean as ole Sis' Cat," ventured a little girl.

"Honey, my gran-mammy wus black! What color is I?"

"Black!" chimed all the children.

"An' dat crab apple tree,--what sort er apples does you git off'n _hit_?"

"Crab apples!" was the answer.

"Well, ole Sis' Cat was mean an' 'ceitful, an'all 'er chillun is gwine ter be des like her long es I stays black an' dem crab apples stays sour. Now run erlong,--dere's de fust bell!"

VIII

SHOO FLY

Phyllis was eating her dinner under the cherry tree near the kitchen door.

Willis seated himself on the gra.s.s in front of her.

"Mammy, you swallowed a fly then," he said with earnestness.

"Look er heah, boy, ain't you had ernuf ter eat, dat you got ter set hyah an' sight ev'y piece uv vit'als I puts in my mouf?"

"Well, you didn't want to eat a fly, did you?" he answered defensively.

"Ef I eats er fly, hit's me doin' hit, ain't hit?" with a leg of a chicken poised half way to her mouth.

"But Mama said they'd poison you." Willis was in trim for argument.

"Yo' ma got er heap er new fangl'd notions; I dunno howc.u.m fokes jes'

startin' ter git fly pis'n'd. We bin eatin' vit'als dat flies lights on, sense long 'fo' yo' ma wus born'd. An' An' Ca'line, dat's mos' er hundred ye'r ole, say dat whin er fly light on her 'la.s.ses she lick ev'y speck uv hit off'n him 'fo' she let him git erway."

"Uncle Hugh says they'll make you awful sick," he pressed, though feeling his position weakened.

"Dey doan make n.o.body sick, but dem whut puts on so miny airs," trying to talk with her mouth over full.

"My mama don't put on airs," he insisted with a tone of injury.

"She do too--dey ain' n.o.body put on es min'y fly airs es yo' ma. I heah one dese ve'y lit'le shoo flies talkin' 'bout Miss Lucy las' week. Shoo Fly settin' up heah on de lim' er dis tree talkin' ter Hoss Fly. He tell Hoss Fly he ain' had er squar' meal fur er mont'.

"Hoss Fly tell 'im ter come on an' g'long down ter de stable an' take dinn'r wid 'im.

"Shoo Fly say, 'I can' git no sumthin' ter eat out'n corn, an' oats, I wants chickin' pie, an' sweet tat'rs, an' blackberry dumplin' sich es fokes eats--go off, boy,' he say, 'I ain' no Hoss Fly.'

"Hoss Fly say, 'Hits er pity yer ain't--yer wud live ter be er ole'r man if yer wus.'"

"Why, Mammy, 'caus' Mister Hoss Fly's the biggest?" His eyes followed her, as she went to the kitchen door and exchanged her plate for one of blackberry dumpling.

"De bigges' ain' got nuthin' ter do wid hit," as she resumed her seat; "hit de fokes dey haster 'sociate wid, dat's dang'us. Dey ain' nuthin'

mo' dangersum ter er fly'n yo' ma," she looked him straight in the eye.

"She got all de wind'rs fas'n'd up so yer can't shet er bline; an' she got dat sticky pap'r you sets in ev'ytime yer goes in de kitchin; an' she got dem pisnous flow'r boxes settin' ev'ywhar; an' she run 'roun' all day atter one fly, hittin' 'bout de house like de fly wus pis'n, sho' nuf.

Miss Lucy's er sight, dat's de trufe, an' I doan blame Shoo Fly fur busin'

her."

The soft dumpling rolled down her throat, and Willis swallowed in sympathy.

"Is Shoo Fly on the limb now?"

"Nor, he tak'n din'r wid me terday, an' las' night, he tak'n supp'r wid Miss Lucy," she laughed aloud.

"Did Mama try to kill him?" anxiously.

"She sho' did, son, but dis heah Shoo Fly got er haid er Miss Lucy las'

night," still she laughed. "Yas, suh, Shoo Fly tell Hoss Fly he sho' gwine perish ef he doan git er bite fum sumwhars.

"Hoss Fly ax 'im: 'Is yer skeer'd ter go in Miss Lucy's house fur vit'als?'

"Shoo Fly say, 'I ain' feerd er no Miss Lucy--I bin b.u.t.tin' m' haid up 'ginst sum'in' nuth'r in de wind'rs, tell m' haid right full er b.u.mps.'

"Hoss Fly say, 'You ain' got no sense, Shoo Fly,--'cose you can't git in dat wire foolishness! De onlies' way ter git in, is ter set up on de porch, an' wait fur sum de fokes ter op'n de do'.'

"Dat peart'n Shoo Fly up moutily, an' he say he gwine dat minit, an' he do. He git ter de front porch jes' es Miss Ma'y wus fancy talkin' ter one er her beaux. Shoo Fly slip in, an' fly back ter de pantry an' light on sum er dis heah right heah," she sc.r.a.ped the b.u.t.ter sauce from the edge of the plate and smacked her lips. "Whoopee, dat sort'r vit'als drive de skeer out'n enny fly. Shoo Fly jes' hop erbout, an' gorge hisse'f, tell bimeby he can't hole no mo'. He start ter go out de wind'r, but he 'memb'r 'bout dem b.u.mps on his haid, so he tu'n roun' ter go in de parler, whin he come 'cross Miss Lucy! She start at 'im wid her fly-kill'r, an' sakes er live!--you ort'r seed de way Shoo Fly make Miss Lucy run erbout dat house!" Again she laughed, calling to mind Miss Lucy's daily fly fights.

"But Shoo Fly hide b'hime yer gran'pa's pictur' ov'r de mantelpiece, an'

wint fas' ter sleep. He doan wake up no mo' tell supp'r time, neeth'r. He g'long in de dinin' room ter supp'r wid de fambly, an' whin dey sets down, he tak'n his seat on de cream pitch'r. Miss Lucy knock at 'im, she do, den he recoleck de fuss him an' her done had wid one nuth'r, so he g'long ov'r ter Miss Ma'y's beau's plate, whar he know he kin eat all he want ter."

"Wasn't he afraid of Shoo Fly?" asked Willis, surprised.

"I nuv'r heah 'im pa.s.s no 'pinion 'bout de matt'r. Shoo Fly know dat man's eyes too bizzy lookin' at sum'in' purtier'n him, an' he know ergin de man got too much mann'rs ter set up an' fight flies whin he's vis'tin'.

"Miss Lucy, she sot dar an' mos' fidgit herse'f ter death, whin Shoo Fly light fus' in de gent'muns vit'als, den up on his nose. De man breash 'im off his nose er heap er times, but Shoo Fly g'long back ev'y time, 'caze hit wus er nice place ter wash de greese off'n his face an' han's. An'

ev'y time he git coffee er ice cream, er enny thing on his foots, he g'long back ter sumwhars on dat man's face ter wash his han's, an' wipe 'em on his coat tails. Miss Lucy say she know de man think she got er million flies in dat house.