UNCLE Remus met a police officer recently.
You aint hear talk er no dead nigger nowhar dis mawnin, is you,
boss? asked the old man earnestly.
No, replied the policeman, reflectively. No, I believe not. Have
you heard of any?
Pears unter me dat I come mighty nigh gittin some news bout
dat size, an dats wat Im a hunfin fer. Bekaze ef dey er foun a
stray nigger layin roun loose, wid is bref gone, den I wanter go
home an git my brekfus an put on some clean cloze, an liver
mysef up ter wunner deze yer jestesses er de peace, an git a far
Why, have you killed anybody?
Dats wats Im a quinn inter now, but I wouldnt be sustonished
ef I aint laid a nigger out somers on de subbubs. Hits done got so
its agin de law fer ter bus loose an kill a nigger, aint it, boss?
Well, I should say so. You dont mean to tell me that you have
killed a colored man, do you?
I speck I is, boss. I speck I done gone an done it dis time, sho.
Hits bin sorter growin on me, an it come ter a head dis mawnin,
les my name aint Remus, an dats wat dey bin er callin me sence I
wuz ole er nuff fer ter scratch mysef wid my lef han.
Well, if youve killed a man, youll have some fun, sure enough.
How was it?
Hit wuz dis way, boss: I wuz layin in my bed dis mawnin sorter
ruminatin roun, when de fus news I knowd I year a fus mong de
chickens, an den my brissels riz. I done had lots er trubble wid
dem chickens, an wen I years wun un um squall my vey shoes
comes onfied. So I des sorter riz up an retch fer my ole muskit,
and den I crope out er de back do, an watter you reckin I seed?
I couldnt say.
I seed de biggest, blackest nigger dat you ever laid eyes on. He
shined like de paint on im was fresh. He bed done grabbed foer
my forwardes pullets. I crope up nigh do do, an hollered an axed
im how he wuz a gittin on, an den he broke, an ez he broke I
jammed de gun in de small er his back and banged aloose. He let a
yell like forty yaller cats a courtin, an den he broke. You aint seed
no nigger hump hissef like dat nigger. He tore down de well
shelter and fo, pannils er fence, an de groun look like wunner
deze yer harrycanes had lit dar and fanned up de yeath.
Why, I thought you killed him?
He bleedzed ter be dead, boss. Aint I put de gun right on im?
Seem like I feel im give way wen she went off.
Was the gun loaded?
Dats wat my ole oman say. She had de powder in dar, sho, but I
disremember wedder I put de buckshot in, er wedder I lef urn out.
Leasways, Im gwineter call on wunner deze yer jestesses. So long,