Bypaths In Dixie Part 20

"No, Mist'r Rattlesnake shan't bite Miss Eve's children," said Mary Van, shaking her curls.

"You late in de day gittin' in yo' sayso, 'caze Mist'r Rattlesnake bite you ef you fools wid 'im; he ain' nuv'r git in er good hum'r wid n.o.body sense de Lawd make him wurk fur his livin'. He bin crawlin' crookid, an'

doin' fokes crookid ev'r sense."

"How does he work?" Willis pulled her face to him.

"He wurk makin' uth'r fokes do his wurk fur 'im, dat's how he wurk. His ole 'ooman an' de chillun keep de sto', an' Unk Toad Frog try ter wurk de farm fur 'im, but Mist'r Rattlesnake done eat up so miny er de Toad Frog fambly dat Unk Toad ain' got nuf han's lef' ter make er c.r.a.p. He tell Mist'r Rattlesnake ef he doan git sumbody ter hope him, he ain' gwine have no corn, so Mist'r Rattlesnake take out down de big road huntin' fur farm han's, he do. He come ter er pa.s.sel er Hop'r Gra.s.ses settin' down on de side de road doin' nuthin', an' he tell 'em ef dey come an' hope him raise er c.r.a.p er corn, he'll give 'em ha'f de c.r.a.p. Well, suh, dem Hop'r Gra.s.ses plow an' hoe, an' weed, an' pick bugs off an'--"

"Mammy, don't call them 'hopper gra.s.ses,' Mary Van says you must say 'Gra.s.s-hoppers.'"

"In de name er de Lawd, whut do Ma'y Van know 'bout varmints an' beastes?"

"My papa says you must call them Gra.s.s-hoppers," protested Mary Van.

"I doan speck Mist'r Hop'r Gra.s.s menshun ter yo' pa dat Hop'r wus jes' er nickname, did he?"

The little girl was obliged to acknowledge that no such communication had taken place.

"Den he ain' got no 'pin'ons ter scat'r on de subjec'--Hop'r Gra.s.s say he wush ter de Lawd fokes'd stop nam'n' him hine part b'fo', ennyhow. He say he plum ti'ed white fokes med'lin' in his 'far's--"

"Mammy, go on about Mister Rattlesnake," Willis began to fidget.

"Set still den, lemme see whar 'bouts I wus at--"

"The Hopper Gra.s.ses were working in the field," Mary Van prompted.

"Dat's de trufe, dat's jes' whar dem po' things wus at. Lawdee, how dem varmints jes' nach.e.l.ly wurk derse'fs mouty nigh ter death. Bimeby, de corn 'gun ter tos'l an' git ripe, an' Mist'r Rattlesnake see de harves' ain'

fur off, an' he know he bleeg'd ter 'vide dat corn wid dem Hop'r Gra.s.ses.

He lay out on de creek bank an' study how he gwine ter cheat 'em. One day de Hop'r Gra.s.ses wus er settin' down in de shade er de corn jes' waitin'

fur Mist'r Rattlesnake ter give de wurd ter go ter cuttin', whin Mist'r Rattlesnake crope up ter de back er de fiel' an' clim' on top er de fence an' give er crack er his tail so loud dat de po' Hop'r Gra.s.ses scat'r all ov'r de country ev'y which er way. Dey wus so skeer'd, hit take 'em er long time fo' dey da.r.s.en't ter come back ter see whut 'twus skeer'd 'em.

By dat time, Mist'r Rattlesnake had done trench hisse'f on dis side de law. Yas, suh, he tak'n his seat 'pon top er dat gate, an' 'fuse ter let er one on 'em come in de fiel'. He tell 'em dey done flew'd off an' lef'

him 'fo' harves' time, an' dee done broke der corntrack, an' no law ain'

gwine hole him ter his'n, an' dey mout jes' es well ter g'long off an' git ernuth'r job."

"Didn't the Hopper Gra.s.ses fight him?" Willis' fists closed at the thought.

"Fight? Whut chanct wud dey had 'ginst dat low down Rattlesnake?" lifting Mary Van from her ap.r.o.n and trying to pull herself up by the bushes. "Dey done whut ev'ybody does dat runs up 'ginst snake law--dey got swindl'd."

"What's snake law?" he tried to a.s.sist her.

"Snake law is sin law, doan you nuv'r fergit dat," she smoothed her ap.r.o.n out, and adjusted the little boy's blouse, "an' whin you gits ter be er big man like yo' pa, jes' recoleck whut yo' Mammy tole yer, dat law whut ain't right right, is snake law, an' dem whut foll'rs 'long b'hime hit has got ter go in er crook'd track. 'Memb'r dat long es you live, Mammy's man."

Willis again begged to show Mary Van the green snakes, when Phyllis exclaimed, "Sakes er live, look at de peaches dat nigg'r Zeek is got."

XV

MISS QUEEN BEE

"Keep way fum dem bee hives, yer hyah?" admonished Phyllis from her old rocking chair under the cherry tree, where she alternately dozed and kept watch on the children playing around her in the yard.

"Mammy, the bees are all crawling out of the hive," exclaimed Willis.

"Lawdy mussy, dem bees fixin' ter swarm!" then raising her voice, "Zeek'l,--ah Zeek!--come quick, yer bees fixin' ter swarm!"

Zeek came running up through the garden, with a tin pan and stick in hand calling, "Which way'd dey go?"

But the bees answered the question themselves, for at that moment they started in the direction of the garden. Zeek began to beat furiously upon the tin pan, while the children screamed in excitement as they beheld the bees hover a moment above Zeek's head, then descend one and all upon his hat. Many straggling ones crawled about his face, one in its distraction landed upon his eyelid, closing the eye.

Zeek walked steadily without batting the open eye, until he reached an empty gum. There with the a.s.sistance of Phyllis, he carefully relieved his head of its dangerous burden.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his head, "dat's de out-bangin'es' hivin' I ev'r done in all m' life, an' dat hive in dat ole gum ain't wurth er cent," he ended reflectively.

"Howc.u.m yer sayso?"

"Lawd, Phyllis," he replied pus.h.i.+ng his hat on the back of his head and folding his arms across his chest, "you'se he'rd er menny time dat

"'De bees dat swarms in May, Is wurth er load er hay, De bees dat swarms in June Is wurth er silv'r spoon; Dem dat swarms in July Ain't wurth er house fly.'

An' dem bees er swarmin' hyah in Argus' ain' wurth nuthin' but ter show you whut er bee-hiv'r I is."

"Hit show pertic'ler you ain' nuthin' ter make honey out'n," Phyllis laughed.

"I ain' notice none uv 'em smackin' der mouf' ov'r you yerse'f, Sis'

Phyllis," he retorted grinning.

"Bees don't eat people, Uncle Zeek," Mary Van endeavored to explain, "they just sting them like hornets do."

"Does dey, honey? Well, I boun' none uv 'em ain' gwine wase er sting on dat ole black bag er salt ov'r yond'r," pointing at Phyllis.

"My Mammy's not any old black salt either!" And Willis squeezed her around the neck.

"She's er ole black nigg'r, dat's whut she is," teased Zeek.

"She's not black!--and she's not a n.i.g.g.e.r either!" and he began to kiss her face.

"Name er de Lawd, ef she ain't er nigg'r, an' she ain' black, whut is she?" Zeek thoroughly enjoyed the little boy's very evident discomfort.

"She's my Mammy,--and she's purty like my mama." Willis was dangerously near tears, as he left Phyllis's lap and made for Zeek. "I'll hit you if you call my mammy a n.i.g.g.e.r."

Mary Van had thrown an iron toy at him, whereupon Phyllis interfered.

"G'long an' 'ten' ter yer biznes', Zeek,--I'm gwine call Miss Lucy ef you starts dese chillun ter cryin'.--Chillun, youall bring yer lit'le cheers yond'r an' set hyah in front uv Mammy, an' she'll tell yer 'bout Miss Queen Bee an' her fambly."

"Mammy, what made Miss Queen Bee move out from her house just now?" Willis interposed.