Why Mr. Possum Has No Hair On His Tail
by
“HIT look like ter me,” said Uncle Remus, frowning, as the little boy came hopping and skipping into the old man’s cabin, “dat I see a young un ’bout yo’ size playin’ en makin’ free wid dem ar chilluns er ole Miss Favers’s yistiddy, en w’en I seed dat, I drap my axe, en I come in yer en sot flat down right whar you er settin’ now, en I say ter myse’f dat it’s ’bout time fer ole Remus fer ter hang up en quit. Dat’s des zackly w’at I say.”
“Well, Uncle Remus, they called me,” said the little boy, in a penitent tone. ‘They come and called me, and said they had a pistol and some powder over there.”
“Dar now!” exclaimed the old man, indignantly. “Dar now! w’at I bin sayin’? Hit’s des a born blessin’ dat you wa’n’t brung home on a litter wid bofe eyeballs hangin’ out en one year clean gone; dat’s w’at ’tis. Hit’s des a born blessin’. Hit hope me up might’ly de udder day w’en I hear Miss Sally layin’ down de law ’bout you en dem Favers chillun, yit, lo en behol’s, de fus news I knows yer you is han’-in-glove wid um. Hit’s nuff fer ter fetch ole Miss right up out’n dat berryin’-groun’ fum down dar in Putmon County, en w’at yo’ gran’ma wouldn’t er stood me en yo’ ma ain’t gwineter stan’ nudder, en de nex time I hear ’bout sech a come off ez dis, right den en dar I’m boun’ ter lay de case ‘fo’ Miss Sally. Dem Favers’s wa’n’t no ‘count ‘fo’ de war, en dey wa’n’t no ‘count endurin’ er de war, en dey ain’t no ‘count atterwards, en w’iles my head’s hot you ain’t gwineter go mixin’ up yo’se’f wid de riff-raff er creashun.”
The little boy made no further attempt to justify his conduct. He was a very wise little boy, and he knew that, in Uncle Remus’s eyes, he had been guilty of a flagrant violation of the family code. Therefore, instead of attempting to justify himself, he pleaded guilty, and promised that he would never do so any more. After this there was a long period of silence, broken only by the vigorous style in which Uncle Remus puffed away at his pipe. This was the invariable result. Whenever the old man had occasion to reprimand the little boy–and the occasions were frequent–he would relapse into a dignified but stubborn silence. Presently the youngster drew forth from his pocket a long piece of candle. The sharp eyes of the old man saw it at once.
“Don’t you come a tellin’ me dat Miss Sally gun you dat,” he exclaimed, “kaze she didn’t. En I lay you hatter be monstus sly ‘fo’ you gotter chance fer ter snatch up dat piece er cannle.”
“Well, Uncle Remus,” the little boy explained, “it was lying there all by itself, and I just thought I’d fetch it out to you.
“Dat’s so, honey,” said Uncle Remus, greatly mollified; “dat’s so, kaze by now some er dem yuther niggers ‘ud er done had her lit up. Dey er mighty biggity, dem house niggers is, but I notices dat dey don’t let nuthin’ pass. Dey goes ‘long wid der han’s en der mouf open, en w’at one don’t ketch de tother one do.”
There was another pause, and finally the little boy said:
“Uncle Remus, you know you promised to-day to tell me why the ‘Possum has no hair on his tail.”
“Law, honey! ain’t you done gone en fergot dat off’n yo’ mine yit? Hit look like ter me,” continued the old man, leisurely refilling his pipe, “dat she sorter run like dis: One time ole Brer Possum, he git so hungry, he did, dat he bleedzd fer ter have a mess er ‘simmons. He monstus lazy man, old Brer Possum wuz, but bimeby his stummick ‘gun ter growl en holler at ‘im so dat he des hatter rack ‘roun’ en hunt up sump’n; en w’iles he wuz rackin’ ‘roun’, who sh’d he run up wid but Brer Rabbit, en dey wuz hail-fellers, kaze Brer Possum, he ain’t bin bodder’n Brer Rabbit like dem yuther creeturs. Dey sot down by de side er de big road, en dar dey jabber en confab ‘mong wunner nudder, twel bimeby old Brer Possum, he take ‘n tell Brer Rabbit dat he mos’ pe’sh out, en Brer Rabbit, he lip up in de a’r, he did, en smack his han’s tergedder, en say dat he know right whar Brer Possum kin git a bait er ‘simmons. Den Brer Possum, he say whar, en Brer Rabbit, he say w’ich ‘twuz over at Brer B’ar’s ‘simmon orchard.”