How Brother Fox Was Too Smart

Uncle Remus chuckled a moment over the escape of Brother Rabbit, and

then turned his gaze upward toward the cobwebbed gloom that seemed to

lie just beyond the rafters. He sat thus silent and serious a little

while, but finally squared himself around in his chair and looked the

little boy full in the face. The old man's countenance expressed a

curious mixture of sorrow and bewilderment. Catching the child by the

coat-sleeve, Uncle Remus pulled him gently to attract his attention.

"Hit look like ter me," he said presently, in the tone of one

approaching an unpleasant subject, "dat no longer'n yistiddy I see one

er dem ar Favers chillun clim'in' dat ar big red-oak out yan', en den it

seem like dat a little chap 'bout yo' size, he tuck'n start up ter see

ef he can't play smarty like de Favers's yearlin's. I dunner w'at in de

name er goodness you wanter be a-copyin' atter dem ar Faverses fer. Ef

you er gwine ter copy atter yuther folks, copy atter dem w'at's some

'count. Yo' pa, he got de idee dat some folks is good ez yuther folks;

but Miss Sally, she know better. She know dat dey aint no Favers 'pon

de top side er de yeth w'at kin hol' der han' wid de Abercrombies in

p'int er breedin' en raisin'. Dat w'at Miss Sally know. I bin keepin'

track er dem Faverses sence way back yan' long 'fo' Miss Sally wuz

born'd. Ole Cajy Favers, he went ter de po'house, en ez ter dat Jim

Favers, I boun' you he know de inside er all de jails in dish yer State

er Jawjy. Dey allers did hate niggers kase dey aint had none, en dey

hates um down ter dis day.

"Year 'fo' las'," Uncle Remus continued, "I year yo Unk' Jeems

Abercrombie tell dat same Jim Favers dat ef he lay de weight er he han'

on one er his niggers, he'd slap a load er buck shot in 'im; en, bless

yo' soul, honey, yo' Unk' Jeems wuz des de man ter do it. But dey er

monst'us perlite unter me, dem Faverses is," pursued the old man,

allowing his indignation, which had risen to a white heat, to cool off,

"en dey better be," he added spitefully, "kase I knows der pedigree fum

de fus' ter de las', en w'en I gits my Affikin up, dey aint nobody,

'less it's Miss Sally 'erse'f, w'at kin keep me down.

"But dat aint needer yer ner dar," said Uncle Remus, renewing his

attack upon the little boy. "W'at you wanter go copyin' atter dem Favers

chillun fer? Youer settin' back dar, right dis minnit, bettin' longer

yo'se'f dat I aint gwine ter tell Miss Sally, en dar whar youer lettin'

yo' foot slip, kaze I'm gwine ter let it pass dis time, but de ve'y nex'

time w'at I ketches you in hollerin' distuns er dem Faverses, right den

en dar I'm gwine ter take my foot in my han' en go en tell Miss Sally,

en ef she don't natally skin you 'live, den she aint de same 'oman w'at

she useter be.

"All dish yer copyin' atter deze yer Faverses put me in min' er de time

w'en Brer Fox got ter copyin' atter Brer Rabbit. I done tole you 'bout

de time w'en Brer Rabbit git de game fum Brer Fox by makin' like he

dead?"[3]

The little boy remembered it very distinctly, and said as much.

"Well, den, ole Brer Fox, w'en he see how slick de trick wuk wid Brer

Rabbit, he say ter hisse'f dat he b'leeve he'll up'n try de same kinder

game on some yuther man, en he keep on watchin' fer he chance, twel

bimeby, one day, he year Mr. Man comin' down de big road in a one-hoss

waggin, kyar'n some chickens, en some eggs, en some butter, ter town.

Brer Fox year 'im comin', he did, en w'at do he do but go en lay down in

de road front er de waggin. Mr. Man, he druv 'long, he did, cluckin' ter

de hoss en hummin' ter hisse'f, en w'en dey git mos' up ter Brer Fox, de

hoss, he shy, he did, en Mr. Man, he tuck'n holler Wo! en de hoss, he

tuck'n wo'd. Den Mr. Man, he look down, en he see Brer Fox layin' out

dar on de groun' des like he cole en stiff, en w'en Mr. Man see dis, he

holler out:

"'Heyo! Dar de chap w'at been nabbin' up my chickens, en somebody done

gone en shot off a gun at 'im, w'ich I wish she'd er bin two guns--dat I

does!'

"Wid dat, Mr. Man he druv on en lef Brer Fox layin' dar. Den Brer Fox,

he git up en run 'roun' thoo de woods en lay down front er Mr. Man

ag'in, en Mr. Man come drivin' 'long, en he see Brer Fox, en he say,

sezee;--

"'Heyo! Yer de ve'y chap what been 'stroyin' my pigs. Somebody done gone

en kilt 'im, en I wish dey'd er kilt 'im long time ago.'

"Den Mr. Man, he druv on, en de waggin-w'eel come mighty nigh mashin'

Brer Fox nose; yit, all de same, Brer Fox lipt up en run 'roun' 'head er

Mr. Man, en lay down in de road, en w'en Mr. Man come 'long, dar he wuz

all stretch out like he big 'nuff fer ter fill a two-bushel baskit, en

he look like he dead 'nuff fer ter be skint. Mr. Man druv up, he did, en

stop. He look down pun Brer Fox, en den he look all 'roun' fer ter see

w'at de 'casion er all deze yer dead Fox is. Mr. Man look all 'roun', he

did, but he aint see nothin', en needer do he year nothin'. Den he set

dar en study, en bimeby he 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat he had better

'zamin' w'at kinder kuse zeeze[4] done bin got inter Brer Fox fambly, en

wid dat he lit down outer de waggin, en feel er Brer Fox year; Brer Fox

year feel right wom. Den he feel Brer Fox neck; Brer Fox neck right wom.

Den he feel er Brer Fox in de short ribs; Brer Fox all soun' in de short

ribs. Den he feel er Brer Fox lim's; Brer Fox all soun' in de lim's. Den

he tu'n Brer Fox over, en, lo en beholes, Brer Fox right limber. W'en Mr.

Man see dis, he say ter hisse'f, sezee:

"'Heyo, yer! how come dis? Dish yer chicken-nabber look lak he dead, but

dey aint no bones broked, en I aint see no blood, en needer does I

feel no bruise; en mo'n dat he wom en he limber,' sezee. 'Sump'n' wrong

yer, sho'! Dish yer pig-grabber _mought_ be dead, en den ag'in he

moughtent,' sezee; 'but ter make sho' dat he is, I'll des gin 'im a

whack wid my w'ip-han'le,' sezee; en wid dat, Mr. Man draw back en fotch

Brer Fox a clip behime de years--_pow!_--en de lick come so hard en it

come so quick dat Brer Fox thunk sho' he's a goner; but 'fo' Mr. Man kin

draw back fer ter fetch 'im a n'er wipe, Brer Fox, he scramble ter his

feet, he did, en des make tracks 'way fum dar."

Uncle Remus paused and shook the cold ashes from his pipe, and then

applied the moral:

"Dat w'at Brer Fox git fer playin' Mr. Smarty en copyin' atter yuther

foks, en dat des de way de whole Smarty fambly gwine ter come out."

[3] _Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings_, p. 70 (New York: D. Appleton & Co.).

[4] Disease.