“I wuz des worryin’ ’bout dat ’while ago,” replied the stalwart negro, passing his hand swiftly across his face. “I ’speck3 I’d be like de ole sheep you hear talk about in de tale.”
“What was the tale?” asked Joe.
“Oh, ’tain’t no long tale,” said Mink. “One time dey wuz er ole sheep what had two chilluns. She call um up one day an’ tell um dat dey better keep a sharp lookout4 whiles dey er eating kaze ef dey don’t sumpin’ n’er sholy gwine git um. Dey say ’Yessum,’ an’ dey went ter frolickin’ up an’ down de fiel’. Bimeby dey come runnin’ back, an’ ’low: “‘Oh, mammy, yon’s, a man! Mus’ we-all run?’
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“Ole mammy sheep, she ’low: ‘No! Go ’long and play.’
“Atter while, dey come runnin’ back an’ low: ‘Mammy, mammy! yon’s a hoss! Mus’ we all run?’
“Ole mammy sheep ’low: ‘’G’way frum here! Go on an’ play.’
“Bimeby dey come runnin’ back. ‘Mammy, mammy! yon’s a cow! Mus’ we all run?’
“Ole mammy sheep say: ‘Go on an’ play, an’ quit yo’ behavishness!’
“Atter while dey come runnin’ back. ‘Mammy! oh, mammy! yon’s a dog! Mus’ we-all run?’
“‘Yes, yes! Run, chillun, run!’
“Dat de way wid me,” said Mink. “Ef I wuz ter hear some un cornin’ I wouldn’t know whedder ter set still an’ nod, or whedder ter break an’ run.”
“That hain’t much of a tale,” remarked Mr. Pruitt, “but ther’s a mighty5 heap er sense in it, shore.”
“Shoo!” exclaimed Mink, “dat ain’t no tale. You oughter hear dish yer Injun Bill tell um. He kin1 set up an’ spit um out all night long.—Bill,” said he, turning to his companion, “tell um dat un ’bout how de mountains come ’bout.”
“Oh, I can’t tell de tale,” said Injun Bill, marking nervously6 in the floor with a splinter. “Ef I could tell dem like my daddy, den8 dat ’ud sorter be like sumpin’. Me an’ my mammy come from Norf Ca’liny. My daddy wuz Injun, Ef you could hear him tell dem tales, he’d make you open yo’ eyes.”
“How wuz de mountains made, Bill?” asked Mink, after a pause.
“I wish I could tell it like my daddy,” said Bill. “He wuz Cher’kee Injun, an’ he know all ’bout it, kaze he say de Injuns wuz here long time fo’ de white folks wuz, let ’lone de niggers.
“Well, one time dey wuz a great big flood. Hit rain so hard an’ it rain so long dat it fair kivver de face er de yeth. Dey wuz lots mo’ water dan what dey is in our kind er freshets, an’ it got so atter while dat de folks had ter find some place whar dey kin stay, kaze ef dey don’t dey all be drownded, dem an’ de cree-turs, too.
“Well, one day de big Injun man call dem all up, an’ say dey got ter move. So dey tuck der cloze an’ der pots an’ der pans an’ foller ’long atter de big Injun, an’ de creeters dey come ’long, too. Dey march an’ dey march, an’ bimeby dey come whar dey wuz a big hole in de groun’. Dey march in an’ de big Injun he stay behine fer stop up de hole so de water can’t leak in. ’Twant long ’fo’ dey know dey wuz in de middle er de worl’, deep down under de groun’, an’ dey had plenty room. Dey built der fires an’ cook der vittles des same ez ef dey’d a been on top er de groun’.
“Dey stayed in dar I dunner how long, an’ bimeby dey got tired er stayin’ in dar, an’ dey want ter come out. Some un um went off fer hunt fer de hole whar dey come in at, but dey can’t fine it, an’ den dey say dey skeered dey ain’t never gwine ter git out. But de big Injun say dey plenty time, kaze fo’ dey go out dey got ter know whedder de rain done stop. He say ef de smoke kin git out dey kin git out. Den dey ax ’im how he gwine fine out ’bout de rain, an’ he say he gwine sen’ some er de creeturs fer fine de hole whar de smoke go out, an’ see ’bout de rain.
“Den de big Injun he went off by hisse’f an’ study an’ study how he gwine fine de hole whar de smoke go out. He sent de dog—de dog can’t fine it. He sent de coon—de coon can’t fine it. He sent de rabbit—de rabbit can’t fine it. Den he went off by hisse’f an’ study some mo’, an’ ’bout dat time de buzzud come ’long an’ he ax de big Injun what make him look so lonesome.
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“Den de big Injun tell de buzzud ’bout ’im tryin’ fer fine de hole whar de smoke went fru. De buzzud he ’low dat him an’ his ole ’oman kin fine it, an’ den de big Injun tuck an’ sent um off.
“Dey riz up, de buzzuds did, an’ flewd de way de smoke went. Dey flewd up an’ dey flewd down, an’ dey flewd all ’roun’ an’ ’roun,’ but dey ain’t seed no hole whar de smoke go out at. Den dey come back, an’ dis make de big Injun feel mo’ lonesomer dan befo’. He study an’ he study, un’ bimeby he sent um out agin, an’ tole um ter go high ez dey kin an’ spy out de hole.
“So dey riz an’ flewd up agin, an’ dis time dey flewd right agin de top er de yeth, up an’ down an’ ’roun’ an’ ’roun’. It bin9 rainin’ so long dat de crust er de yeth wuz done wet plum fru, an’ it wuz saft, an’ when dey struck agin it dey made de print whar dey bin fly in’. Bimeby, de old man buzzud, he got mad, an’ he sail ’roun’ twel he git a good start, an’ den he plow10 right ’long agin de roof. De ol’ ’oman buzzud, she done de same, an’ bimeby dey fine de hole whar de smoke went out. Dey peeped out, dey did, an’ dey seed dat de rain done stop, but it monstus damp outside.
“Den dey went back an’ de big Injun feel mighty good kaze dey done fine de hole. After so long a time he giv de word, an’ dey all marched out fum de inside er de yeth an’ went back ter whar dey useter live. It tuck um a mighty long time ter fine de place, kaze when dey went away de lan’ wuz level, but when dey come back hit wuz full er hills an’ mountains dat look like great big bumps an’ long ridges11. Dey ax dey se’f how come dis, an’ dey study an’ study. Bimeby de buzzud, he up’n say dat dem wuz de print he lef’ when him an’ his ole ’oman wuz a-flyin’ roun’ tryin’ fer fine de hole whar de smoke went out. De groun’ wuz saft, an’ eve’y time de buzzuds ’ud fly agin it dey’d make hills an’ mountains. Dat what my daddy say,” said Injun Bill, decisively. “He wuz Injun man, an’ he oughter know ef anybody do.”
“What did I tell you?” exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, who, up to this time, had said nothing. “Mix Injun wi’ nigger an’ they hain’t no kind er rigamarole they won’t git up.”
They all agreed, however, that Injun Bill’s story was amusing, and after a while Mink said:
“I speck Marse John dar mought match dat tale ef he wuz ter try right hard.”
Mr. Pruitt turned his pocket inside out to get some tobacco-crumbs for his pipe.
“Buddy,” he remarked, turning to Joe Maxwell, “did you ever hear tell how the fox gits rid er fleas12?”
Joe had never heard.
“Weil,” said Mr. Pruitt, “it’s this away. When the fox, speshually ef it’s one er these here big reds, gits full er fleas, which they er bleedze ter do in hot weather, he puts out an’ goes tell he finds a flock er sheep. Then he runs in amongst ’em, an’ runs along by the side er one tell he gits a chance ter pull a mouffle er wool out. Then he makes a break fer the creek13 an’ finds him a wash-hole an’ wades14 in.
“He don’t, ez you may say, splunge in. He jest wades in, a little bit at a time. Fust he gits in up ter his knees, an’ then he goes in deeper an’ deeper. But he hain’t in no hurry. When the water strikes the fleas, nachally they start fer high-water mark. The fox feels ’em crawl up, an’ then he goes in a little deeper. When they crawl up ez high ez his back he goes in furder, an’ then they-crawl to’rds his head. He gits a little deeper, an’ they crawl out on his nose. Then he gits deeper, tell they hain’t nothin’ out er the water but the pint15 er his nose.
“Now all this time he’s got that chunk16 er wool in his mouf, an’ when the fleas hain’t got nowheres else ter go they make fer that. Then when the fleas is all in the wool, the fox drops it in the water, comes out, shakes hisse’f, an’ trots17 off ter do some other devilment.”
“Dat cert’ny is one way fer ter git red er fleas,” exclaimed Mink, laughing heartily18. Then he turned to Injun Bill.
“Bill, what tale is dat I been hear you tell ’bout ole Brer Rabbit an’ de overcoat? Dat ain’t no nigger tale.”
“Naw!” said Injun Bill, contemptuously. “Dat ain’t no nigger tale. My daddy tell dat tale, an’ he wa’nt no nigger. I wish I could tell it like I near him tell it.”
“How did it go?” asked Mr. Wimberly.
“Well,” said Injun Bill, rolling his eyes to-ward the rafters, “it sorter run dis way, nigh ez I kin reckermember: De time wuz when Mr. Beaver19 wuz de boss er all de creeturs. He wa’nt de biggest ner de strongest, but he wuz mighty smart. Fine cloze make fine folks in dem days, an’ dat what Mr. Beaver had. Eve’ybody know him by his fine overcoat. He look slick all de week, an’ he mighty perlite—he ain’t never fergit his manners. Mr. Rabbit see all dis an’ it make ’im feel jealous. He dunner how come Mr. Beaver kin be sech a big man, an’ he study how he gwine make hisse’f populous20 wid de yuther creeturs.
“One time dey all make it up dat dey wuz gwine ter have a big meetin’, an’ so dey ’gun ter fix up. De word went ’roun’ an’ all de creeturs make ready ter come. Mr. Beaver he live up in de mountains, an’ it wuz lots mo’ dan a day’s journey fum his house ter de place whar de creeturs gwine ter hoi’ der big meetin’. But he waz bleedze ter be dar, kaze he de head man. Ole Mr. Rabbit ’low ter hisse’f dat sumpin’ got ter be done, an’ dat mighty quick, an’ so he put out fer Mr. Beaver house. Mr. Rabbit sho is a soon mover, mon, an’ he git dar in little er no time. He say dey all so ’fraid Mr. Beaver ain’t comin’ ter de meetin’ dat dey sont ’im atter ’im, an’ he help Mr. Beaver pack his kyarpet-bag, an’ went on back wid ’im fer comp’ny.
“Mr. Beaver can’t git ’long ez peart ez Mr. Rabbit, kaze he so fat an’ chunky, yit he don’t lose no time; he des keep gwine fum sunup ter sundown. Des ’fo’ dark dey come ter whar dey wuz a river, an’ Mr. Rabbit, he ’low dey better camp out on de bank, an’ git soon start in de mornin’. So dey built up a fier, an’ cook der supper, an’ ’bout de time dey wuz gittin’ ready ter go ter bed Mr. Rabbit ’low:
“‘Brer Beaver, I mighty feared we gwine ter have trouble dis night!’ Mr. Beaver say, ‘How comes so, Brer Rabbit?’
“Mr. Rabbit ’low: ‘Dis country what we er in is called Rainin’ Hot Embers, an’ I don’t like no sech name. Dat de reason I wanter stop close ter water.’
“Mr. Beaver ax, ‘What de name er goodness we gwine do, Brer Rabbit?’
“Mr. Rabbit sorter scratch his head an’ say, ‘Oh, we des got ter put up wid it, an’ do de bes’ we kin.’ Den he sorter study, an’ ’low: ’I speck you better pull off dat fine overcoat er yourn, Brer Beaver, an’ hang it up in de tree dar, kaze ef de wuss come ter de wuss, you sholy want ter save dat.’
“Den Mr. Beaver tuck off his overcoat an’ hang it up in de tree, an’ atter while dey lay down fer ter take a nap. Mr. Rabbit he stay wake, but twa’nt long ’fo’ Mr. Beaver wuz done gone ter sleep an’ snorin’ right along. He sno’ so loud dat Mr. Rabbit laugh ter hisse’f, an’ ’low: ‘Hey! Ole Brer Beaver pumpin’ thunder fer dry wedder, but we gwine ter have some rain, an’ it’ll be a mighty hot rain, mon.’
“Den Mr. Rabbit raise hisse’f on his elbow an’ look at Mr. Beaver. He soun’ asleep, an’ he keep on a snorin’. Mr. Rabbit got up easy, an’ slipped roun’ an’ got ’im a great big piece er bark, an’ den he slip back ter de fier an’ run de piece er bark un’ de hot embers des like it wuz a shovel21. He flung um up in de air, he did, an’ holler out:
“‘Run fer de water, Brer Beaver! run fer de water! It’s a rainin’ hot embers! Run, Brer Beaver! run!’
“De hot embers drapped on Mr. Beaver, an’ he scuffled ’bout mightily22. Time Mr. Rabbit hollered, he flung an’er shower er embers on ’im, an’ Mr. Beaver gun one loud squall an’ splunged inter7 de water head over heels. Mr. Rabbit grab de fine overcoat an’ run down de bank twel he come ter whar dey wuz a canoe, an’ he got in dat an’ went cross, an’ den he put out ter whar de creeturs gwine ter hol’ der big meetin’. Des ’fo’ he got dar, he put on de overcoat, an’ he ain’t do it none too soon, nudder, kaze some un um had done got so unpatient ’long er waitin’ fer Mr. Beaver dat dey went out on de road a little fer ter meet ’im.
“De overcoat wuz lots too big fer Mr. Rabbit, but it bin sech a long time sence de creeturs had seed Mr. Beaver dat it look all right ter dem, an’ so dey gallanted Mr. Rabbit ter de meetin’-place same like he wuz big man ez Mr. Beaver. Dey tuck ’im dar an’ gallanted ’im up on de flatform, an’ sot ’im down in de big cheer, an’ made ’im de boss er de meetin’. Mr. Rabbit ’gun ter speak an’ tell um he mighty much ’blige fer all deze favers, an’ ’bout dat time Mr. Fox ’low:
“‘Hey! Mr. Beaver done los’ his voice!’”
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“Mr. Rabbit say he can’t have no talkin’, an’ he kep on wid his speech. Bimeby Mr. Wolf say: ‘Hey! Mr. Beaver bin sick, kaze his cloze ain’t fit ’im.’ Mr. Rabbit say he bleeze ter have order in de ’sembly, an’ he go on wid his speech. ’Twan’t long ’fo’ Mr. Fox jump an’ holler out:
“‘Hey! Mr. Beaver done bought ‘im some new years!’
“Mr. Rabbit cock up one eye, an’ see dat bofe er his long years done come out fum un’ de overcoat, an’ den he know dat he better be gwine. He make er break, he did, an’ bounced off’n de flatform, an’ start fer de bushes, but some er de yuther creeturs head ‘im off an’ kotched ‘im, an’ den dey tuck ‘im an’ tried ‘im, an’ de jedge what sot on ‘im say he mus’ have mark on ‘im so he can’t fool um no mo’. Den dey tuck er sharp flint rock an’ split his upper lip, an’ dat how de rabbits is got der lip split.”
“Shoo!” said Mink. “Dat Injun rabbit. Nigger rabbit would ‘a’ fooled dem creeturs right straight along, an’ he wouldn’t ’a’ bin cotch, nudder.”
“Jim,” said Mr. Pruitt to Mr. Wimberly, “would it strain you too much ter whirl in an’ tell us a tale? We wanter show this young un here that country folks hain’t ez no ’count ez they look ter be.”
“Jesso!” exclaimed Mr. Wimberly, with much animation23. “I wuz jest a-thinkin’ about one that popped in my min’. It ain’t much of a tale, but it tickled24 me might’ly when I fust heard it, an’ I hain’t never fergot it.”
“Well,” said Mr. Pruitt, “out wi’ it. It ain’t nigh bedtime, an’ ef it wuz we hain’t got no beds ter go ter—that is, we hain’t got none ter speak of.”
“One time,” Mr. Wimberly began, smacking25 his lips, “there wuz a man what took the idee that he had done gone an’ larnt ever’ blessid thing under the sun that thar’ wuz ter larn, and it worried him might’ly. He took the idee wi’ ’im ever ’whar he went. Folks called ’im Ole Man Know-all. He sarched in ever’ hole an’ cornder arter sump’n that he didn’t know, but, hunt whar he would an’ when he might, he couldn’t fin’ it. It looked like he know’d ever’-thing ther’ wuz an’ had been. Nobody couldn’t tell ’im nothin’ that he didn’t know, an’ it made ’im feel mighty lonesome. He studied an’ studied, an’ at last he said ter hisse’f, sezee, that ef thar’ wan’t nothin’ more fer ’im ter larn, he jest might ez well lay down an’ die. He said ter hisse’f, sezee, that may be Grandsir Death could larn ’im sumpin. Jesso!
“Well, he went home one night an’ built ’im up a big fire an’ fixed26 his pallet an’ lay down. ‘I won’t lock the door,’ sezee; ‘I’ll jist leave it onlatched so Grandsir Death can come in, an’ maybe he can larn me sump’n.’ Jesso!
“Ole Man Know-all lay thar on the pallet an’ waited. He’d doze27 a little an’ then he’d wake up, an’ he rolled an’ tossed about tell purty nigh day. He wan’t oneasy, so to speak, but he wuz mighty restless. To’rds mornin’ he heard some un knock on his door—bam-bam! bam-bam! He wan’t skeered, but he got right weak. His mouth got dry, an’ a big holler place come in his stomach. He sez ter hisse’f, sezee, ‘Shorely that’s Grandsir Death at the door.’ Then he kivvered up his head an’ shuck all over. ’Twan’t long ’fo’ the knock come agin:
“Bim-bim! bim-bim! bim!
“Ole Man Know-all thought his time wuz done come, certain an’ shore, an’ so he hollered:
“‘Come in!’
“The door opened, but stedder it’s bein’ Grandsir Death it wuz a little nigger boy. Ole Man Know-all sez, sezee:
“‘What you want this time er night?’
“The little nigger boy sez, sezee, ‘Mammy sent me arter some fier.’
“Old Man Know-all told ’im ter come in an’ git it. The little nigger boy went in an’ started ter the fireplace.
“‘Don’t want no shovel,’ sez the little nigger.
“’ How you gwine ter take it?’ sez Old Man Know-all.
“‘Easy enough,’ sez the little nigger.
“Ole Man Know-all turned over an’ watched ’im. He went ter the h’ath, filled the palm er one hand full er dead ashes, made a little nest in the middle, an’ then picked up a fire-coal this way.”
Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Wimberly picked up a glowing coal of fire, dropped it in the palm of his hand, whirled it around rapidly, and then neatly29 transferred it to the bowl of his pipe, where it lay glowing.
“The little nigger picked up the coal that way,” Mr. Wimberly continued, “an’ then he started out. Ole Man Know-all hollered at ’im.
“‘Easy enough,’ sez the little nigger.
“Ole Man Know-all jumped up an’ follered ’im, an’ when the little nigger come ter his mammy’s house he got two fat pine splinters, picked up the coal er fire wi’ ’em jest ez ef they’d ’a’ been tongs31, whirled it once-t er twice-t aroun’ his head, an’ thar wuz the blaze.
“‘Well,’ sez Ole Man Know-all, ‘I’m mighty glad Grandsir Death gimme the go-by last night, ’cause I’ve larnt sump’n new. An’ I reckon, ef I keep my eyes open, I can larn lots more.’ Jesso!”
“I’ve saw folks that thought they know’d it all,” said Mr. Pruitt, “an’ it most inginer’lly happens that all what they know wouldn’t make the linin’ fer a bug’s nest.”
There was some further talk, in which Joe Maxwell joined, or thought he did, and then the cabin and all its occupants seemed to fade before his eyes. He seemed, as in a dream, to hear Mr. Pruitt say that he wished to the Lord that his little boy was as healthy and as well fed as the boy from town, and Joe thought he heard the deserter telling his companions of the desperate condition in which he found his wife and two little children, who were living in a house remote from any settlement. The lad, much interested in this recital32, opened his eyes to ask Mr. Pruitt some of the particulars, and, lo! it was morning. The fire was out, and the deserters and negroes had disappeared. In the east the sky glowed with the promise of the sun, the birds were singing in the old apple-trees, and the cows were lowing. In the distance Joe could hear the plow-hands singing as they rode to their tasks, and, when the sound of their song had died away, he thought he could hear, ever so faintly, the voice of Harbert calling his hogs33.
Mink had told Joe where he was, and how to get home, and he had no difficulty in finding his way.
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收听单词发音
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1
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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2
mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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3
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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4
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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5
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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6
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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7
inter
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| v.埋葬 | |
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8
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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9
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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10
plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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11
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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12
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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13
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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14
wades
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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15
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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16
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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17
trots
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| 小跑，急走( trot的名词复数 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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18
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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19
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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20
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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21
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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22
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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23
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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24
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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25
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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26
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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27
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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28
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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29
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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30
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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31
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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32
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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33
hogs
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| n.（尤指喂肥供食用的）猪( hog的名词复数 )；（供食用的）阉公猪；彻底地做某事；自私的或贪婪的人 | |
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