Chapter 11 - Myths and Legends of the Old Plantation by Joel Harris

HOW MR. ROOSTER LOST HIS DINNER

It seemed that the rainy season had set in in earnest, but the little boy went down to Uncle Remus’s cabin before dark. In some mysterious way, it appeared to the child, the gloom of twilight fastened itself upon the dusky clouds, and the great trees without, and the dismal perspective beyond, gradually became one with the darkness. Uncle Remus had thoughtfully placed a tin pan under a leak in the roof, and the drip-drip-drip of the water, as it fell in the resonant vessel, made a not unmusical accompaniment to the storm.

The old man fumbled around under his bed, and presently dragged forth a large bag filled with lightwood knots, which, with an instinctive economy in this particular direction, he had stored away for an emergency. A bright but flickering flame was the result of this timely discovery, and the effect it produced was quite in keeping with all the surroundings. The rain, and wind, and darkness held sway without, while within, the unsteady lightwood blaze seemed to rhyme with the drip-drip-drip in the pan. Sometimes the shadow of Uncle Remus, as he leaned over the hearth, would tower and fill the cabin, and again it would fade and disappear among the swaying and swinging cobwebs that curtained the rafters.

“W’en bed-time come, honey,” said Uncle Remus, in a soothing tone, “I’ll des snatch down yo’ pa buggy umbrell’ fum up dar in de cornder, des lak I bin a-doin’, en I’ll take’n take you und’ my arm en set you down on Miss Sally h’a’th des ez dry en ez wom ez a rat’-nes’ inside a fodder-stack.”

At this juncture ’Tildy, the house-girl, rushed in out of the rain and darkness with a water-proof cloak and an umbrella, and announced her mission to the little boy without taking time to catch her breath.

“Miss Sally say you got ter come right back,” she exclaimed. “Kaze she skeerd lightin’ gwine strak ‘roun’ in yer ‘mongs’ deze high trees some’rs.”

Uncle Remus rose from his stooping posture in front of the hearth and assumed a threatening attitude.

“Well, is anybody year de beat er dat!” was his indignant exclamation. “Look yer, gal! don’t you come foolin’ ’longer me-now, don’t you do it. Kaze ef yer does, I’ll take’n hit you a clip w’at’ll put you ter bed ‘fo’ bed-times come. Dat ’s w’at!”

“Lawdy! w’at I done gone en done ter Unk’ Remus now?” asked ’Tildy, with a great affectation of innocent ignorance.

“I’m gwine ter put on my coat en take dat ar umbrell’, en I’m gwine right straight up ter de big house en ax Miss Sally ef she sont dat kinder wud down yer, w’en she know dat chile sittin’ yer ’longer me. I’m gwine ter ax her,” continued Uncle Remus, “en if she aint sont dat wud, den I’m gwine ter fetch myse’f back. Now, you des watch my motions.”

“Well, I year Miss Sally say she ‘feard lightnin’ gwine ter strak some’rs on de place,” said ’Tildy, in a tone which manifested her willingness to compromise all differences, “en den I axt ’er kin I come down yer, en den she say I better bring deze yer cloak en pairsol.”

“Now you dun brung um,” responded Uncle Remus, “you des better put um in dat cheer over dar, en take yo’se’f off. Thunder mighty ap’ ter hit close ter whar deze here slick-head niggers is.”

But the little boy finally prevailed upon the old man to allow ’Tildy to remain, and after a while he put matters on a peace footing by inquiring if roosters crowed at night when it was raining.

“Dat dey duz,” responded Uncle Remus. “Wet er dry, dey flops der wings en wakes up all de neighbors. Law, bless my soul!” he exclaimed suddenly, “w’at make I done gone en fergit ’bout Mr. Rooster?”

“What about him?” inquired the little boy.

“One time, ’way back yander,” said Uncle Remus, knocking the ashes off his hands and knees, “dey wuz two plan’ations right ’longside one er ’ne’r, en on bofe er deze plan’ations wuz a whole passel of fowls. Dey wuz mighty sociable in dem days, en it tu’n out dat de fowls on one plan’ation gun a party, w’ich dey sont out der invites ter de fowls on de ’t’er plan’ation.

“W’en de day come, Mr. Rooster, he blow his hawn, he did, en ’semble um all tergedder, en atter dey ’semble dey got in line. Mr. Rooster, he tuck de head, en atter ’im come olé lady Hen en Miss Pullet, en den dar wuz Mr. Peafowl, en Mr. Tukkey Gobbler, en Miss Guinny Hen, en Miss Puddle Duck, en all de balance un um. Dey start off sorter raggedy, but ’t wa’n’t long ‘fo’ dey all kotch de step, en den dey march down by de spring, up thoo de hoss-lot en ’cross by de gin-house, en ’t wa’n’t long ‘fo’ dey git ter whar de frolic wuz.

“‘Dey dance, en dey play, en dey sing. Mo’ ’speshually did dey play en sing dat ar song w’ich it run on lak dis:

“’Come under, come under,
My honey, my love, my own true love;
My heart bin a-weepin’
Way down in Galilee.’

“Dey wuz gwine on dis a-way, havin’ der ’musements, w’en, bimeby, olé Mr. Peafowl, he got on de comb er de barn en blow de dinner-hawn. Dey all wash der face en ban’s in de back po’ch, en den dey went in ter dinner. W’en dey git in dar, dey don’t see nothin’ on de table but a great big pile er co’n-bread. De pones was pile up on pones, en on de top wuz a great big ash-cake. Mr. Rooster, he look at dis en he tu’n up he nose, en bimeby, atter aw’ile, out he strut. Olé Miss Guinny Hen, she watchin’ Mr. Rooster motions, en w’en she see dis, she take’n squall out, she did:

“’Pot-rack! Pot-rack! Mr. Rooster gone back! Pot-rack! Pot-rack! Mr. Rooster gone back!’

“Wid dat dey all make a great ter-do. Miss Hen en Miss Pullet, dey cackle en squall, Mr. Gobbler, he gobble, en Miss Puddle Duck, she shake ’er tail en say, quickity-quack-quack. But Mr. Rooster, he ruffle up he cape, en march on out.

“Dis sorter put a damper on de yuthers, but ‘fo’ Mr. Rooster git outer sight en year’n dey went ter wuk on de pile w’at wuz ’pariently co’n-bread, en, lo en beholes, un’need dem pone er bread wuz a whole passel er meat en greens, en bake’ taters, en bile’ turnips. Mr. Rooster, he year de ladies makin’ great ’miration, en he stop en look thoo de crack, en dar he see all de doin’s en fixin’s. He feel mighty bad, Mr. Rooster did, w’en he see all dis, en de yuther fowls dey holler en ax ’im fer ter come back, en he craw, w’ich it mighty empty, likewise, it up’n ax ’im, but he mighty biggity en stuck up, en he strut off, crowin’ ez he go; but he ‘speunce er dat time done las’ him en all er his fambly down ter dis day. En you neenter take my wud fer’t, ne’r, kaze ef you’ll des keep yo’ eye open en watch, you’ll ketch a glimse er olé Mr. Rooster folks scratchin’ whar dey ’specks ter fine der rations, en mo’ dan dat, dey’ll scratch wid der rations in plain sight. Since dat time, dey aint none er de Mr. Roosters bin fool’ by dat w’at dey see on top. Dey aint res’ twel dey see w’at und’ dar. Dey’ll scratch spite er all creation.”

“Dat ’s de Lord’s truth!” said ’Tildy, with unction. “I done seed um wid my own eyes. Dat I is.”

This was ’Tildy’s method of renewing peaceful relations with Uncle Remus, but the old man was disposed to resist the attempt.

“You better be up yander washin’ up dishes, stidder hoppin’ down yer wid er whole packet er stuff w’at Miss Sally aint dreamp er sayin’.”