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Man, sezee, 'you done change color, en you done got bigger, en yo' tail done grow out. W'at kin' er w'atzyname is you, ennyhow? sezee. "Brer Fox, he stay still, en Mr.
W'en he got dar he tuck'n drap de bag off'n his back en call up de imps, en dey des come a squallin' en a caperin', w'ich I speck dey mus' a bin hongry. Leas'ways dey des swawm'd 'roun', hollerin' out: "'Daddy, w'at you brung daddy, w'at you brung?
Putting into his hands a great pone of corn bread she urged, "Des light out, Chunk, light out sud'n. 'Twix de baid news en Miss Lou en w'at Perkins do ef he cotch you, I des dat trembly, I kyant stan'." "Perkins asleep, granny. I'se off now fer good, but I comin' back fer you some day." He disappeared, and too perturbed to think of sleep the old woman tottered back to her chimney-corner.
Dey er mighty biggity, dem house niggers is, but I notices dat dey don't let nuthin' pass. Dey goes 'long wid der han's en der mouf open, en w'at one don't ketch de tother one do." There was another pause, and finally the little boy said: "Uncle Remus, you know you promised to-day to tell me why the 'Possum has no hair on his tail."
"Well, sir, I didn't 'ave a chance to over'ear w'at 'er business were, but it seemed to work on Mr. Brian there somethin' 'orrid. They was closeted in the library upstairs not more than twenty minutes, and then she went, and 'e rung for me and to bring 'im brandy and not delay about it. 'E nearly emptied the decanter, too, before Mr. Bayard got 'ere.
Pacheco, the half-breed Mexican who freighted provisions by jack train to the mining-camps on the head waters of the Pannikin, came in to report to the chief clerk. "Well, 'Checo, what did you find out?" was the curt inquiry. The half-breed spread his palms. "W'at I see, I know. Dey'll not gone for hunt much.
Dey sorter come on wid a col', like leas'ways dat's how I commence fer ter suffer, an' den er koff got straddle er de col' one dese yer koffs w'at look like hit goes ter de foundash'n. I kep' on linger'n' 'roun' sorter keepin' one eye on the rheumatiz an' de udder on de distemper, twel, bimeby, I begin fer ter feel de trestle-wuk give way, an' den I des know'd dat I wuz gwineter gitter racket.
"Wal, if I fin' dat new place w'at I'm lookin' for I don' never come back. You people was good frien' to me, but I'm kin' of shif'less feller, you know. Mebbe I forget all 'bout Flambeau, an' stop on my 'New Countree' you never can tol' w'at dose Franchemans goin' do." "It's the wander-lust," murmured Burrell to himself; "he'll never rest." "What a child you are!" cried Necia, half angrily.
"W'en de niggers wuz gwine 'way, Mars Dugal' tole me fer ter go en hunt up Dave, en bring 'im up ter de house. I went down ter Dave's cabin, but could n' fine 'im dere. Den I look' roun' de plantation, en in de aidge er de woods, en 'long de road; but I could n' fine no sign er Dave. I wuz 'bout ter gin up de sarch, w'en I happen' fer ter run 'cross a foot-track w'at look' lack Dave's.
Primus," she called, "w'at wuz Ben Davis, w'at useter own dis yer house, sent ter de penitenchy fer?" "Hoss-stealin'," came back the reply in sleepy accents, from the man seated by the fireplace. The traveler went on to the next house. A neat-looking yellow woman came to the door when he rattled the gate, and stood looking suspiciously at him. "W'at you want?" she asked.
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