The child admitted with a laugh that perhaps he had, and he was very sorry of it afterwards, for when he went to bed he dreamed that something scratched at his door and made such a fuss that he was obliged to get up and let it in. He didn’t wait to see what it was, but just flung the door open, and ran and jumped back in bed, pulling the cover over his head. In the dream he lay right still and listened. Everything was so quiet that he became curious, and finally ventured to look out from under the cover. Well, sir, the sight that he saw was enough, for between the door and the bed a big black dog was lying. He seemed to be very tired, for his tongue hung out long and red, and he was panting as though he had come a long way in a very short time.
Uncle Remus groaned in sympathy. The black dog that gallops through a dream with his tongue hanging out was one of his familiars. “I know dat dog,” he said. “He got a bunch er white on de een’ er his tail, an’ his eyeballs look like dey green in de dark. You call him an’ he’ll growl, call him ag’in, an’ he’ll howl. I’d know dat dog ef I wuz ter see him in de daytime—I’d know him so well dat I’d run an’ ax somebody fer ter please, suh, wake me up, an’ do it mighty quick.”
The little boy didn’t know anything about that; what he did know was that the dog in his dream, when he had rested himself, jumped up on the bed, and began to nose at the cover, and he seemed to get mad when he failed to pull it off the little boy. He tried and tried, and then he seized a corner of the counterpane, or the spread, or whatever you call it, and shook it with his teeth. When he grew tired of this, the little boy could hear him smelling all about over the bed, and then he knew the creature was hunting for the piece of apple-pie.
Uncle Remus agreed with the child about this. “’Cordin’ ter my notion,” he said, “when folks slip ’roun’ an’ take dat what don’t b’long ter um er dat what dey oughtn’t ter have by good rights, de big black dog is sho’ ter come ’roun’ growlin’ an’ smellin’ atter dey goes ter bed. Dey ain’t no two ways ’bout dat. Dey may not know it, dey may be too sleepy fer ter see ’im in der dreams, but de dog’s dar. Mo’ dan dat, dogs will growl an’ smell ’roun’ ef deyer in dreams er outer dreams. Dey got in de habits er smellin’ ’way back yander in de days when ol’ Brer Rabbit had tooken de place er de King one time when de King wanter go off down de country fishin’.”
The little boy seemed to be very much interested in this information, but while they were speaking of this curious habit that is common to dogs, a hound that had been raised on the place came into view. He was going at a gallop, as if he had important business to attend to, but when he had galloped past a large tree, he paused suddenly, and turned back to investigate it with his nose; and though he was entirely familiar with the tree, it seemed to be new to him now, for he smelled all around the trunk of it and was apparently much perplexed. Whatever information he received was sufficient to cause him to forget all about the business that had caused him to come galloping past the tree, for when his investigation had ended, he turned about and went back the way he had come.
“Now, you see dat, don’t you?” exclaimed Uncle Remus, with some show of indignation. “Ain’t it des a little mo’ dan you wanter stan’? Here he come, gwine, I dunner whar, des a-gallin’-up like he done been sent fer. He come ter dat ar tree, he did, an’ went on by—spang by!—an’ den ’fo’ you kin bat yo’ eyeball, whiff, he turn roun’ an’ go ter smellin’ at de tree, des like he ain’t never seed it befo’; an’ he must ’a’ got some kind er news whar he smellin’ at, kaze atter he smell twel it look like he gwineter smell de bark clean off, he fergit all ’bout whar he gwine, an’ tuck his tail an’ go on back whar he come fum. Maybe you know sump’n ’bout it, honey—you an’ de balance er de white folks, but me—I’m bofe blin’ an’ deff when it come ter tellin’ you what de dog foun’ out. I may know what make ’im smell at de tree, but what news he got I never is ter tell you.”
“Well, you know you said that dogs got in the habit of smelling away back yonder when old Brother Rabbit took the place of the King, who had gone fishing. I was wondering if that was a story.”
“Wuz you, honey?” Uncle Remus asked with a pleased smile. “Well, you sho’ is got a dumplin’ eye fer de kinder tales what I tells. I b’lieve ef I wuz ter take one er dem ol’-time tales an’ skin it an’ drag de hide thoo de house an’ roun’ de lot—ef I wuz ter do dat, I b’lieve you’d open up on de trail same ez ol’ Louder follerin’ on atter Brer Possum; I sho’ does!”
