“Some run fer ter dig bait”
The child seemed to appreciate the compliment, and he laughed in a way that did the old negro a world of good. “I have found out one thing,” said the little boy with emphasis. “Whenever you are hinting at a story, you always look at me out of the corner of your eye, and there’s always a funny little wrinkle at the corner of your mouth.”
“Well, suh!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, gleefully; “well, suh! an’ me a-settin’ right here an’ doin’ dat a-way ’fo’ yo’ face an’ eyes! I never would ’a’ ’speckted it. Peepin’ out de cornder er my eyeball, an’ a-wrinklin’ at de mouf! It look like I mus’ be gettin’ ol’ an’ fibble in de min’.” He chuckled as proudly as if some one had given him a piece of pound-cake of which he was very fond. But presently his chuckling ceased, and he leaned back in his chair with a serious air.
“I dunno so mighty well ’bout all de yuther times you talkin’ ’bout, honey, but when I say what I did ’bout ol’ Brer Rabbit takin’ de place er der King, I sho’ had a tale in my min’. I say tale, but I dunner what you’ll say ’bout it; you kin name it atter you git it. Well, way back yander, mos’ ’fo’ de time when folks got in de habits er dreamin’ dreams, dey wuz a King an’ dish yer King king’d it over all un um what wuz dar, mo’ speshually de creeturs, kaze what folks dey wuz ain’t know nothin’ ’tall ’bout whedder dey need any kingin’ er not; look like dey didn’t count.
“Well, dish yer King what I’m a-tellin’ you ’bout had purty well grow’d up at de business, and de time come when he got mighty tired er settin’ in one place an’ hol’in’ a crown on his head fer ter keep it fum fallin’ on de flo’. He say ter hisse’f dat he wanter git out an’ git de fresh a’r, an’ have some fun ’long wid dem what he been kingin’ over. He ’low dat he wanter fix it so dat he ain’t a-keerin’ whedder school keep er no, an’ he ax um all what de best thing he kin do. Well, one say one thing an’ de yuther say t’other, but bimeby some un um chipped in an’ say dat de best way ter have fun is ter go fishin’, an’ dis kinder hit de King right in de middle er his notions.
“He jump up an’ crack his heels tergedder, he did, an’ he say dat dat’s what he been thinkin’ ’bout all de time. A-fishin’ it wuz an’ a-fishin’ he’d go, ef his life wuz spar’d twel he kin git ter de creek. An’, wid dat, dey wuz a mighty stirrin’ roun’ ’mongs’ dem what he wuz a-kingin’ over; some un um run off ter git fishin’-poles, an’ some run fer ter dig bait, an’ some run fer ter git de bottle, an’ dar dey had it—you’d ’a’ thunk dat all creation wuz gwine fishin’.”
“Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, interrupting the old man, “what did they want with a bottle?”
The old man looked at the child with a puzzled expression on his face. “De bottle?” he asked with a sigh. “I b’lieve I did say sump’n ’bout de bottle. I dunner whedder it ’uz a long white bottle er a chunky black un. Dem what handed de tale down ter me ain’t say what kinder one it wuz, an’ I’m fear’d ter say right short off dat it ’uz one er de yuther. We’ll des call it a plain, eve’yday bottle an’ let it go at dat.”
“But what did they want with a bottle, Uncle Remus?” persisted the little boy.
“You ain’t never been fishin’, is you honey? An’ you ain’t never see yo’ daddy go fishin’. All I know is dat whar dey’s any fishin’ gwine on, you’ll fin’ a bottle some’rs in de neighborhoods ef you’ll scratch about in de bushes. Well, de creeturs done like folks long ’fo’ folks got ter doin’ dat a-way, an’ when dish yer King went a-fishin’, he had ter have a bottle fer ter put de bait in.