The Colonel ordered Si to bring his prisoner back into a gully some distance behind the line, where he could be interrogated without the sound reaching the men in the works. "Where do you belong?" asked the Colonel. "To Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint." "How many men have you got over there in the works." "Well, a right smart passul." "What do you mean by a right smart parcel?"
"Well, thar's Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint that's mine; then thar's Kunnel Tarrant's South Carliny rijimint, and then thar's Kunnel Bird's Tennessee rijimint, and I don't mind how many others. They've bin comin' and goin' all day, and I hain't paid no attention to 'em. I only know that thar's enough to give yo'uns a wallopin' if yo'uns only come on."
Uncle Remus stared at the strange darkey curiously for a moment, and then he seized him by the arm. "Come yer, son, whar dey ain't no folks an' lemme drap some Jawjy 'intment in dem years er yone. You er mighty fur ways fum home, an' you wanter be a lookin' out fer yo'se'f. Fus and fo'mus, you er thumpin' de wrong watermillion. You er w'isslin' up de wrong chube.