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En he didn't hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit pacin' down de road lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity dez ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come prancin' 'long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz 'stonished. De Tar Baby, she sot dar, she did, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
W'en she got de goopher all ready en fix', she tuk 'n went out in de woods en buried it under de root uv a red oak tree, en den come back en tole one er de niggers she done goopher de grapevimes, en a'er a nigger w'at eat dem grapes 'ud be sho ter die inside'n twel' mont's.
Dey keep on talkin', dey did, twel bimeby dey gotter 'sputin' 'bout w'ich wuz de swif'es'. Brer Rabbit, he say he kin outrun Brer Tarrypin, en Brer Tarrypin, he des vow dat he kin outrun Brer Rabbit. Up en down dey had it, twel fus news you know Brer Tarrypin say he got a fifty-dollar bill in de chink er de chimbly at home, en dat bill done tole 'im dat he could beat Brer Rabbit in a fa'r race.
Over the broad meadows, filled with scattered wild flowers, the sound of the chant still floated, with a shrill and troubled sweetness, upon the wind. As he listened the little negro broke into a jubilant refrain, beating his naked feet in the dust: "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Me et a gin." Then he looked slyly up at his young master. "I 'low dar's one thing you cyarn do, Marse Champe."
I go wid you now, dis berry minute, en I neber breve easy till we way, way off enywhar, I doan keer whar. Oh, Chunk, you doan know w'at been gwine on en I darsn't tell you twel we gits way off." "I isn't feared," replied Chunk easily. "Dat's kaze you doan know. I des been tremblin' stiddy sence las' night en I'se feared hit begin eny minute now."
"You'll tromple on dat bark twel hit won't be fitten fer ter fling 'way, let 'lone make hoss-collars out'n," said Uncle Remus, as the little boy came running into his cabin out of the rain. All over the floor long strips of "wahoo" bark were spread, and these the old man was weaving into horse-collars. "I'll sit down, Uncle Remus," said the little boy.
"Dey wuk on twel bimeby de butter tas'e so good dat ole Brer Rabbit want some mo'. Den he raise up his head, he did, en holler out: "'Heyo! Hol' on! I'm a comin'! en off he put. "Dis time he stay right smart w'ile, en w'en he git back Brer Fox ax him whar he bin. "'I been ter see my ole 'oman, en she's a sinkin', sezee.
De rain fall so saf' in de long dark night, Twel you hatter hol' yo' han' for a sign, But de drizzle w'at sets de tater-slips right Is de makin' er de May-pop vine. In de mellerest groun' de clay root 'll ketch En hol' ter de tongue er de plow, En a pine-pole gate at de gyardin-patch Never 'll keep out de ole brindle cow.
En ef ole man M'thoozlum wuz livin' clean twel yit, he'd up'n tell you de same. Sho ez you er settin' dar. You 'member w'at 'come er de bird w'at went tattlin' 'roun' 'bout Brer Rabbit?" The little boy didn't remember, but he was very anxious to know, and he also wanted to know what kind of a bird it was that so disgraced itself.
"Conjure quick and I won't holler," she said. "Gawd in heaven!" exclaimed Aunt Ailsey. Her dim old eyes brightened as she gently stroked the child's brow with her palsied fingers. "Dis yer ain' no way ter conjure, honey," she whispered. "You des wait twel de full er de moon, w'en de devil walks de big road." She was wandering again after the fancies of dotage, but Betty threw herself upon her.
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