Chapter 8 - Myths and Legends of the Old Plantation by Joel Harris

THE STORY OF THE PIGS

Uncle Remus relapsed into silence again, and the little boy, with nothing better to do, turned his attention to the bench upon which the old man kept his shoemaker’s tools. Prosecuting his investigations in this direction, the youngster finally suggested that the supply of bristles was about exhausted.

“I dunner w’at Miss Sally wanter be sendin’ un you down yer fer, ef you gwine ter be stirr’n’ en bodderin’ ’longer dem ar doin’s,” exclaimed Uncle Remus, indignantly. “Now don’t you scatter dem hog-bristle! De time wuz w’en folks had a mighty slim chance fer ter git bristle, en dey aint no tellin’ w’en dat time gwine come ag’in. Let ’lone dat, de time wuz w’en de breed er hogs wuz done run down ter one po’ little pig, en it look lak mighty sorry chance fer dem w’at was bleedzd ter have bristle.”

By this time Uncle Remus’s indignation had vanished, disappearing as suddenly and unexpectedly as it came. The little boy was curious to know when and where and how the bristle famine occurred.

“I done tole you ’bout dat too long ’go ter talk ’bout,” the old man declared; but the little boy insisted that he had never heard about it before, and he was so persistent that at last Uncle Remus, in self-defence, consented to tell the story of the Pigs.

“One time, ‘way back yander, de olé Sow en er chilluns wuz all livin’ ‘longer’ de yuther creeturs. Hit seem lak ter me dat de olé Sow wuz a widder ’oman, en ef I don’t run inter no mistakes, hit look like ter me dat she got five chilluns. Lemme see,” continued Uncle Remus, with the air of one determined to justify his memory by a reference to the record, and enumerating with great deliberation,-“dar wuz Big Pig, en dar wuz Little Pig, en dar wuz Speckle Pig, en dar wuz Blunt, en las’ en lonesomes’ dar wuz Runt.

“One day, deze yer Pig ma she know she gwine kick de bucket, and she tuck’n call up all ’er chilluns en tell um dat de time done come w’en dey got ter look out fer deyse’f, en den she up’n tell um good ez she kin, dough ’er breff mighty scant, ’bout w’at a bad man is olé Brer Wolf. She say, sez she, dat if dey kin make der ’scape from olé Brer Wolf, dey’ll be doin’ monst’us well. Big Pig ’low she aint skeer’d, Speckle Pig ‘low she aint skeer’d, Blunt, he say he mos’ big a man ez Brer Wolf hisse’f, en Runt, she des tuck’n root ‘roun’ in de straw en grunt. But olé Widder Sow, she lay dar, she did, en keep on tellin’ um dat dey better keep der eye on Brer Wolf, kaz he mighty mean en ’seetful man.

“Not long atter dat, sho’ ’nuff olé Miss Sow lay down en die, en all dem ar chilluns er hern wuz flung back on deyse’f, en dey whirl in, dey did, en dey buil’ um all a house ter live in. Big Pig, she tuck’n buil’ ’er a house outer bresh; Little Pig, she tuck’n buil’ a stick house; Speckle Pig, she tuck’n buil’ a mud house; Blunt, he tuck’n buil’ a plank house; en Runt, she don’t make no great ter-do, en no great brags, but she went ter wuk, she did, en buil’ a rock house.

“Bimeby, w’en dey done got all fix, en marters wuz sorter settle, soon one mawnin’ yer come olé Brer Wolf, a-lickin’ un his chops en a-shakin’ un his tail. Fus’ house he come ter wuz Big Pig house. Brer Wolf walk ter de do’, he did, en he knock sorter saf’-blim! blim! blim! Nobody aint answer. Den he knock loud-blam! blam! blam! Dis wake up Big Pig, en she come ter de do’, en she ax who dat. Brer Wolf ’low it’s a fr’en’, en den he sing out:

“‘Ef you’ll open de do’ en let me in,
I’ll wom my han’s en go home ag’in.’

“Still Big Pig ax who dat, en den Brer Wolf, he up’n say, sezee:

“‘How yo’ ma?’ sezee.

“‘My ma done dead,’ sez Big Pig, sezee, ’en ‘fo’ she die she tell me fer ter keep my eye on Brer Wolf. I sees you thoo de crack er de do’, en you look mighty like Brer Wolf,’ sezee.

“Den olé Brer Wolf, he draw a long breff lak he feel mighty bad, en he up’n say, sezee:

“I dunner w’at change yo’ ma so bad, less’n she ’uz out’n er head. I year tell dat olé Miss Sow wuz sick, en I say ter myse’f dat I’d kinder drap ‘roun’ en see how de olé lady is, en fetch ’er dish yer bag er roas’n’-years. Mighty well dose I know dat ef yo’ ma wuz yer right now, en in ‘er min’, she ’d take de roas’n’-years en be glad fer ter git um, en mo’n dat, she’d take’n ax me in by de fire fer ter worn my han’s,’ sez olé Brer Wolf, sezee.

“De talk ’bout de roas’n’-years make Big Pig mouf water, en bimeby, atter some mo’ palaver, she open de do’ en let Brer Wolf in, en bless yo’ soul, honey! dat uz de las’ er Big Pig. She aint had time fer ter squeal en needer fer ter grunt ‘fo’ Brer Wolf gobble ’er up.

“Next day, olé Brer Wolf put up de same game on Little Pig; he go en he sing he song, en Little Pig, she tuck’n let ’im in, en den Brer Wolf he tuck’n ’turn de compelerments en let Little Pig in.”

Here Uncle Remus laughed long and loud at his conceit, and he took occasion to repeat it several times.

“Little Pig, she let Brer Wolf in, en Brer Wolf, he let Little Pig in, en w’at mo’ kin you ax dan dat? Nex’ time Brer Wolf pay a call, he drop in on Speckle Pig, en rap at de do’ en sing his song:

“‘Ef you’ll open de do’ en let me in,
I’ll wom my han’s en go home ag’in.’

“But Speckle Pig, she kinder ‘spicion sump’n’, en she ’fuse ter open de do’. Yit Brer Wolf mighty ‘seetful man, en he talk mighty saf’ en he talk mighty sweet. Bimeby, he git he nose in de crack er de do’ en he say ter Speckle Pig, sezee, fer ter des let ’im git one paw in, en den he won’t go no furder. He git de paw in, en den he beg fer ter git de yuther paw in, en den w’en he git dat in he beg fer ter git he head in, en den w’en he git he head in, en he paws in, co’se all he got ter do is ter shove de do’ open en walk right in; en w’en marters stan’ dat way, ’t wa’n’t long ‘fo’ he done make fresh meat er Speckle Pig.

“Nex’ day, he make way wid Blunt, en de day atter, he ’low dat he make a pass at Runt. Now, den, right dar whar olé Brer Wolf slip up at. He lak some folks w’at I knows. He’d ‘a’ bin mighty smart, ef he had n’t er bin too smart. Runt wuz de littles’ one er de whole gang, yit all de same news done got out dat she ’uz pestered wid sense like grown folks.

“Brer Wolf, he crope up ter Runt house, en he got un’need de winder, he did, en he sing out:

“‘Ef you’ll open de do’ en let me in,
I’ll wom my han’s en go home ag’in.’

“But all de same, Brer Wolf can’t coax Runt fer ter open de do’, en needer kin he break in, kaze de house done made outer rock. Bimeby Brer Wolf make out he done gone off, en den atter while he come back en knock at de do’-blam, blam, blam!

“Runt she sot by de fier, she did, en sorter scratch ’er year, en holler out:

“‘Who dat?’ sez she.

“’Hit ‘s Speckle Pig,’ sez olé Brer Wolf, sezee, ‘twix’ a snort en a grunt. ‘I fotch yer some peas fer yo’ dinner!’

“Runt, she tuck’n laugh, she did, en holler back:

“‘Sis Speckle Pig aint never talk thoo dat many toofies.’

“Brer Wolf go off ’g’in, en bimeby he come back en knock. Runt she sot en rock, en holler out:

“‘Who dat?’

“‘Big Pig,’ sez Brer Wolf. ‘I fotch some sweet-co’n fer yo’ supper.’

“Runt, she look thoo de crack un’need de do’, en laugh en say, sez she:

“’Sis Big Pig aint had no ha’r on ‘er huff.’

“Den olé Brer Wolf, he git mad, he did, en say he gwine come down de chimbley, en Runt, she say, sez she, dat de onliest way w’at he kin git in; en den, w’en she year Brer Wolf clam’in’ up on de outside er de chimbley, she tuck’n pile up a whole lot er broom sage front er de h’a’th, en w’en she year ‘im clam’in’ down on de inside, she tuck de tongs en shove de straw on de fier, en de smoke make Brer Wolf head swim, en he drap down, en ‘fo’ he know it he ’uz done bu’nt ter a cracklin’; en dat wuz de las’ er olé Brer Wolf. Leas’ways,” added Uncle Remus, putting in a cautious proviso to fall back upon in case of an emergency, “leas’ways, hit ‘uz de las’ er dat Brer Wolf.”