Bypaths In Dixie Part 10

"Shoo Fly done full er vit'als now, so he g'long ter bed b'hime yer gran'pa's pictur'. In de mawnin', he git up an' look erbout, he do, an' I tell yer he git pow'ful wo' out waitin' fur dem sleepy haid'd n.i.g.g.e.rs ter start dey wurk, so by de time de cant'lopes git fix'd, Shoo Fly wus so hongry dat he eat hisse'f plum full er mush-mil'n 'fo' brekfus' time. He fly 'roun' an' zamine dat fly pap'r but he ain' got no room fur no mo'

eatin'; den he look at dat cur'us Pison flow'r, but he keep way fum dat, 'caze he say he ain' no bee. Jes' den heah come Miss Lucy wid 'er fly-kill'r. Him an' her dances considerbul ergin, but bimeby he g'long ter take er nap b'hime yer gran'pa, an' Miss Lucy set down ter read de mawnin'

pap'r.

"Whin he wake up, he sort'r feel holl'r, he do, 'caze cant'lope res'

mighty light yer knows, so he g'long ter hunt sumpin' nuth'r ter eat. He think Miss Lucy done fergit 'im by now, but no, Lawd, he dunno Miss Lucy, fur he ain' buz hisse'f mo'n er time er two, 'fo' Miss Lucy take atter him. She skeer 'im so bad, dat he fergit all 'bout dem wire things in de wind'r, but Lawsee, whin his haid come 'ginst de wire, hit knock de senses out'n 'im, an' whin dat fly-kill'r er Miss Lucy's. .h.i.t his toe, hit tu'n 'im so sick, he fell blip! right on de fly pap'r. Mussy grashus! you ort'r heah Shoo Fly holl'rin' an' er buzzin' fur Hoss Fly.

"'Bout dis time, whin Hoss Fly doan see nuthin' er Shoo Fly on de cherry tree, he g'long ter git er peep in at de wind'r ter see ef he kin git enny news uv 'im; an' bless de Lawd, he ain' git ter de wind'r 'fo' he heah Shoo Fly holl'rin': 'Oh, Hoss Fly, p-l-e-a-s-e come hope me out'n heah!'

"Hoss Fly run ter de front do', but dat's shet tight, so he take an' run 'roun' ter de kitchin do' whar he know dey's allus keerles'. He fly ter de kitchin' do' an' seen Kitty standin' wid her foot in de do' pa.s.sin' news wid ole An' Malviny, an' he know he got plenty time ter go in an' 'ten'

ter his biznes', 'fo' dat do' git shet ergin. He fly thu de kitchin, an'

make fur de liberry, whar po' Shoo Fly had done mos' buzz hisse'f ter death.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHOO-FLY HOLL'R, 'LOOK OUT FUR M' LEGS!'"]

"Hoss Fly swoop down an' grab 'im by de wing, but Shoo Fly holl'r, 'Look out fur m' legs! Oh, Lawdy, you'se pullin' m' wing off--Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy!'

"n.o.body dunno de mis'ry po' Shoo Fly wus in. I tell yer Hoss Fly wurk mouty keerful ter git 'im all out tergeth'r. Den he liftes 'im up, but he doan hatt'r hole on ter 'im, 'caze Shoo Fly so sticky he hole his own se'f on. Hoss Fly come er flyin' back thu de kitchin."

"Did Kitty have the door open for him?"

"Cose, boy, ain't I done alreddy tole yer Kitty an' Mal gwine talk tell Miss Lucy come an' put 'em ter wurk? Yas, suh, Hoss Fly didn't had no trub'le gittin' 'im out er dat kitchin,--an' he come flyin' straight ter de stable, an' light wid Shoo Fly on top er de kerrige. He tell 'im ter roll hisse'f erbout on de kiv'r tell he git shed er dat sticky pison on 'im."

"Did Shoo Fly go back to the house when he got well?"

Willis rose as he saw the old woman preparing to take her plate to the kitchen.

"Nor, suhree, Shoo Fly say, he done got his full er big fokes! He say he done foun' out hit wus er heap bett'r ter g'long an' live whar de Lawd born'd yer ter live at, dan ter go 'mongst fokes dat doan want yer."

IX

ELECTION DAY

"Mammy, can't my papa be mayor if he wants to?" bragged Willis, darting a satisfied look at Mary Van.

"I'll tell yer mo' 'bout dat dis time termorrer," was the unexpected reply.

"Yahn, yahn, yahn," taunted Mary Van.

"He can, too," retorted Willis.

Willis's papa was a candidate for mayor, hence in the family politics colored the conversation from the parlor through the nursery even to the kitchen.

"De reason I says whut I does," Mammy apologized, "is 'caze dey tells me er dark hoss kin jump in at de las' minit an bus' de whole thing all ter pieces."

"Does he kick up and run away?" Willis jerked at her ap.r.o.n to hasten the reply.

"Dey runs erway wid de 'lection sometimes, ef de uth'r run'rs ain' sho'

nuf race hosses an' got mighty strong harnes' on 'em."

"Mammy, less me an' Mary Van be race hosses, an' you be er dark hoss, an'

see which one can beat."

"I low ef we-all wuster race hoss 'roun' dis hyah garret, 'tain' long fo'

yo' ma'll be de dark hoss ter do de beatin'."

"No, Mammy, put m' harness on," shaking the bells in impatience.

"I can't play no race hoss up hyah terday, boy, 'caze Miss Lucy got her mine on 'lection news, an' she say you got ter be quiet."

"No, I'm going to be a race horse, put m' harness on!"

"Auntie might whip you, Willis," ventured Mary Van, "mightn't she, Mammy Phyllis?"

"She whup 'im in er minit, ef he fool wid her terday."

"Well, Mammy--" he fretted.

"Lis'n hyah, baby--Miss Race Hoss settin' ov'r yond'r in de pastur'

waitin' jes' like yo' ma is terday."

"What's she waiting for?"

"Waitin' ter hyah ef Mist'r Race Hoss beat Brer Bar ter be ruler er de beastes. Oh, I tell yer Ned Dog mos' run hisse'f plum ter death gittin'

votes fur Mist'r Race Hoss; an' Mist'r Wile Cat, he de haid man gittin'

votes fur Brer Bar."

"But, Mammy--"

"Lawd, boy, I wush you cud heah de scand'lous bettin' gwine on in dat pastur'--ev'ybody puttin' money on Mist'r Race Hoss, 'caze dey see Brer Bar's too slow an' sleepy mind'd ter keep up wid Mist'r Race Hoss. An'

den, too, n.o.body doan trus' Mist'r Wile Cat fur nuthin'. Mist'r Wile Cat all time projeckin' wid some sorter big sumpin' nuth'r dat nuv'r do tu'n out ter be er thing. So yer see n.o.body ain' gwine vote fur Brer Bar, 'caze dey skeer'd er Mist'r Wile Cat's dealin's. Dey talks all dis out in de pastur', an' Mist'r Tom Cat he set an' lis'n ter de confab. Sometime he buse Brer Bar, an' sometime he make out he 'sleep an' doan heah.

"One day Mist'r Jack Donkey wint up ter de fod'r rack ter git er chaw er fod'r, an' whin he come thu de cow shed he come 'cross Mist'r Tom Cat stretchin' his claws. Atter dey pa.s.ses howdy wid one nuth'r, Mist'r Tom Cat, he say, 'Jack, I heah some fokes say, dey wush ter de Lawd you wus in Brer Bar's place.'

"Jack, he tu'n his ye'rs 'roun', he do, an' say, 'Who say dat, Tom?'

"Tom Cat say, 'Ev'ybody jes' wus.h.i.+n' fur er big sho' nuf man like you ter come in an' whoop out dat ole stuck up Race Hoss.'

"Whin Jack Donkey heah dat, he sorter switch his tail, an' stomp fus' one foot an' den de uth'rs uv his foots, an' he keep his ye'rs tu'nin' 'roun'

an' 'roun'."

"What's the reason he does that, Mammy Phyllis; were the flies bothering him?" asked the little girl.

"He studyin', honey, dat sort'r confab'll wurk on men fokes, let lone er donkey. Jack sort'r tu'n matt'rs ov'r in his mine, an' he say ter hisse'f, 'I sho' is er sho' nuf big man, an' I sho' is got er heap er sense, 'caze I kin outdo Mist'r Man up yond'r enny day. n.o.body can't make me do nuthin' my mine ain' sot on doin', an' enybody kin hitch up dat high steppin' Race Hoss, an' make 'im plow er do enny sort'r thing whut dey pleases. Yas,' he says, 'I got mo' sense dan Race Hoss, an' bless de Lawd, ef I doan b'leef I'm bett'r lookin', too!'