“Yes dey is, Miss Diddie, lots uv ’em; folks jes goes at night fur ter
save time. I knows how ter hunt fur ’possums; I kin tree ’em jes same
ez er dog.”
And the children, delighted at the novelty of the thing, all started
off “’possum-hunting,” for Mammy was helping unpack the dinner-baskets,
and was not watching them just then. They wandered off some distance,
climbing over logs and falling into mud-puddles, for they all had their
heads thrown back and their faces turned up to the trees, looking for
the ’possums, and thereby missed seeing impediments in the way.
At length Dilsey called out, “Hyear he is! Hyear de ’possum!” and they
all came to a dead halt under a large oak-tree, which Dilsey and Chris,
and even Diddie and Dumps, I regret to say, prepared to climb. But the
climbing consisted mostly in active and fruitless endeavors to make a
start, for Dilsey was the only one of the party who got as much as
three feet from the ground; but _she_ actually did climb up until she
reached the first limb, and then crawled along it until she got near
enough to shake off the ’possum, which proved to be a big chunk of wood
that had lodged up there from a falling branch, probably; and when
Dilsey shook the limb it fell down right upon Riar’s upturned face, and
made her nose bleed.
“Wat you doin’, you nigger you?” demanded Riar, angrily, as she wiped
the blood from her face. “I dar’ yer ter come down out’n dat tree, an’
I’ll beat de life out’n yer; I’ll larn yer who ter be shakin’ chunks
on.”
In vain did Dilsey apologize, and say she thought it was a ’possum;
Riar would listen to no excuse; and as soon as Dilsey reached the
ground they had a rough-and-tumble fight, in which both parties got
considerably worsted in the way of losing valuable hair, and of having
their eyes filled with dirt and their clean dresses all muddied; but
Tot was so much afraid Riar, her little nurse and maid, would get hurt
that she screamed and cried, and refused to be comforted until the
combatants suspended active hostilities, though they kept up
quarrelling for some time, even after they had recommenced their search
for ’possums.
“Dilsey don’t know how to tree no ’possums,” said Riar, contemptuously,
after they had walked for some time, and anxiously looked up into every
tree they passed.
“Yes I kin,” retorted Dilsey; “I kin tree ’em jes ez same ez er dog,
ef’n dar’s any ’possums fur ter tree; but I can’t _make_ ’possums, do;
an’ ef dey ain’t no ’possums, den I can’t tree ’em, dat’s all.”
“Maybe they don’t come out on the Fourf uv July,” said Dumps. “Maybe
’possums keeps it same as peoples,”
“Now, maybe dey duz,” said Dilsey, who was glad to have some excuse for
her profitless ’possum-hunting; and the children, being fairly tired
out, started back to the creek bank, when they came upon Uncle
Snake-bit Bob, wandering through the woods, and looking intently on the
ground.
“What are you looking for, Uncle Bob?” asked Diddie.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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