One of the most laughable stories of a bovine kind that has ever ticked the ribs of the “only animal that laughs,” is the one in which Carl Kivett, Carthage coal and wood deal, describes his ride on the “natural state” on Squire Fry’s Taurus.
We defy a cynic, in fashionable trousers, to read it and not burst a button or two off the places to which suspenders are hitched. It is simply enormous. Carl took a notion to go swimming, and he had just got his clothes off when he saw Squire Fry’s bull making at him. The bull was a vicious animal, and had come very near killing two or three persons, consequently Carl felt rather “jubus.”
He didn’t want to call for help for he was naked, and the nearest place from which help could arrive was the meeting house, which was at that time filled with worshippers, among whom was the “gal Carl was playing devotion to.” So he dodged the bull as the animal came at him, and managed to catch him by the tail.
He was dragged around until he was nearly dead, and when he thought he could hold on no longer, he made up his mind that he’d better “holler.” And now we will let him tell his own story.
“So looking at the matter in all its bearings, I came to the conclusion that I’d better let some one know where I was. So I gave a yell louder than a locomotive whistle, and it wasn’t long before I saw the Squire’s two dogs coming down like as if they were seeing which could get there first.”
Takes Deck Passage
“I knew who they were after—they’d join the bull agin’ me, ‘So,’ says I, ‘old brindle as riding is as cheap as walking on this route, if you have no objections, I’d just take a deck passage on that there back of yours!’ So I wasn’t very long getting stride of him.
“Then if you’d been there, you’d have sworn there was nothing human in that there mix, the sile flew saw awfully, as the critter and I rolled around the field—one dog on one side and one on the other, trying to climb my feet. “I prayed and cussed, until I couldn’t tell which I did at last—and neither wasn’t of any use, they were so awfully mixed up.
“Well, I reckon I rode about a half an hour this way, when old brindle thought it was time to stop to take in a supply of wind and cool off a little. So when we got around to a tree that stood there, he naturally halted, so I says, boy, you will lose one passenger certain. So I just clum up a branch, calculating to roost till I was starved before I’d be rid around that way any longer.
“I was making tracks for the top of the tree when I heard something making an awful buzzing overhead. I kinder looked, and if there wasn’t--- well, there’s no use swearing—but it was the biggest hornet’s nest ever built.
“An idea struck me then that I stood a heap better chance a riding the bull than were I was. Says I, old fellow, if you’ll hold on I’ll ride to the next station, anyhow, let that be where it will.
Sat on the Varmints
“So I jist dropped about him agin’ and looked aloft to see what I had gained by changing quarters and gentlemen, I am a liar if there wasn’t high half a bushel pesting varmints ready to pitch into me when the word ‘go’ was given.
“Well, I reckon they got it, for all hands started for our company. Some of them bit the dogs—about a quart struck me, and the rest charged on brindle.
“This time the dogs led off first dead bent for the Squire’s and as soon as old brindle and I could get under way, we followed and as I was only a deck passenger, I had nothing to do with the steering craft; if I had we shouldn’t have run that channel anyway.
“But, as I said before, the dogs took the lead—brindle and I net and the hornets directly after. The dogs yelling, brindle hollering and the hornets buzzing and stinging.
“Well, we had got about 200 yards from the house, and the Squire heard us and came out. I saw him hold up his hands and turn white. I reckon he was praying then for he didn’t expect to be called for so soon, and it wasn’t long neither before the hole congregation—men, women and children—came out, and then all the hands wet to yelling. “None of them had first notion that brindle and I belonged to this world. I just turned my head and passed the whole congregation I saw the run would be up soon, for brindle couldn’t turn an inch from a fence that stood dead ahead.
“Well, we reached that fence, and I went ashore over the critter’s head, landing on the other side and lay there stunned.
“It wasn’t long before some of them as were not scared came running to see where I was; for all hands calculated that the bull and I belonged together. But when brindle walked off by himself, they saw how it was, they said:
“’Carl Kivett has got the worst once in his life!’
“Gentlemen, from that day I quit the courting business and did not speak to a gal for six years.”
From the front page of The Moore County News, Carthage, N.C., Thursday, April 8, 1926
In rural Southern and Appalachian dialect of 1926, “Jubus” meant nervous, uneasy or fearful, according to AI Copilot. It’s a phonetic, dialectal variant of “dubious,” which originally meant not just doubtful, but hesitant, wary, afraid to proceed. Thanks, Copilot. newspapers.digitalnc.org/lccn/sn92074101/1926-04-08/ed-1/seq-1/
No comments:
Post a Comment