“HIT turn out one time,” said Uncle Remus, grinding some crumbs of tobacco between the palms of his hands, preparatory to enjoying his usual smoke after supper—“hit turn out one time dat Brer Rabbit make so free wid de man’s collard-patch dat de man he tuck’n sot a trap fer ole Brer Rabbit.”

“Which man was that, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“Des a man, honey. Dat’s all. Dat’s all I knows—des wunner dese yer mans w’at you see trollopin ’roun’ eve’y day. Nobody ain’t never year w’at his name is, en ef dey did dey kep’ de news mighty close fum me. Ef dish yer man is bleedzd fer ter have a name, den I’m done, kaze you’ll hatter go fudder dan me. Ef you bleedzd ter know mo’ dan w’at I duz, den you’ll hatter hunt up some er deze yer niggers w’at’s sprung up sence I commence fer ter shed my ha’r.”

“Well, I just thought, Uncle Remus,” said the little boy, in a tone remarkable for self-depreciation, “that the man had a name.”

“Tooby sho,” replied the old man, with unction, puffing away at his pipe. “Co’se. Dat w’at make I say w’at I duz. Dish yer man mout a had a name, en den ag’in he moutn’t. He mout er bin name Slip-shot Sam, en he mouter bin name ole One-eye Riley, w’ich ef ’twuz hit ain’t bin handed roun’ ter me. But dish yer man, he in de tale, en w’at we gwine do wid ’im? Dats de p’int, kase w’en I git ter huntin’ ’roun’ ’mong my ’membunce atter dish yer Mister W’atyoumaycollum’s name, she ain’t dar. Now den, less des call ’im Mr. Man en let ’im go at dat.”

The silence of the little boy gave consent.

“One time,” said Uncle Remus, carefully taking up the thread of the story where it had been dropped, “hit turn out dat Brer Rabbit bin makin’ so free wid Mr. Man’s greens en truck dat Mr. Man, he tuck’n sot a trap for Brer Rabbit, en Brer Rabbit he so greedy dat he tuck’n walk right spang in it, ’fo’ he know hisse’f. Well, ’twa’n’t long ’fo’ yer come Mr. Man, broozin’ ’roun’, en he ain’t no sooner see ole Brer Rabbit dan he smack his han’s tergedder en holler out:

“‘Youer nice feller, you is! Yer you bin gobblin’ up my green truck, en now you tryin’ ter tote off my trap. Youer mighty nice chap—dat’s w’at you is! But now dat I got you, I’ll des ’bout settle wid you fer de ole en de new.’

“En wid dat, Mr. Man, he go off, he did, down in de bushes atter han’ful er switches. Ole Brer Rabbit, he ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, but he feelin’ mighty lonesome, en he sot dar lookin’ like eve’y minnit wuz gwineter be de nex’. En w’iles Mr. Man wuz off prepa’r’n his bresh-broom, who should come p’radin’ long but Brer Fox. Brer Fox make a great ’miration, he did, ’bout de fix w’at he fine Brer Rabbit in, but Brer Rabbit he make like he fit ter kill hisse’f laffin’, en he up’n tell Brer Fox, he did, dat Miss Meadows’s fokes want ’im ter go down ter der house in ’tennunce on a weddin’, en he low w’ich he couldn’t, en dey low how he could, en den bimeby dey take’n tie ’im dar w’iles dey go atter de preacher, so he be dar’ w’en dey come back. En mo’n dat, Brer Rabbit up’n tell Brer Fox dat his chillun’s mighty low wid de fever, en he bleedzd ter go atter some pills fer’m, en he ax Brer Fox fer ter take his place en go down ter Miss Meadows’s en have nice time wid de gals. Brer Fox, he in fer dem kinder pranks, en ’twa’n’t no time ’fo’ Brer Rabbit had ole Brer Fox harness up dar in his place, en den he make like he got ter make ’as’e en git de pills fer dem sick chilluns. Brer Rabbit wa’n’t mo’n out er sight ’fo’ yer come Mr. Man wid a han’ful er hick’ries, but w’en he see Brer Fox tied up dar, he look like he ’stonished.

“‘Heyo!’ sez Mr. 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. Man, he talk on:

“‘Hit’s mighty big luck,’ sezee, ‘ef w’en I ketch de chap w’at nibble my greens, likewise I ketch de feller w’at gnyaw my goose,’ sezee, en wid dat he let inter Brex Fox wid de hick’ries, en de way he play rap-jacket wuz a caution ter de naberhood. Brer Fox, he juk en he jump, en he squeal en he squall, but Mr. Man, he shower down on ’im, he did, like fightin’ a red was’nes’.”

The little boy laughed, and Uncle Remus supplemented this indorsement of his descriptive powers with a most infectious chuckle.

“‘Bimeby,” continued the old man, “de switches, dey got frazzle out, en Mr. Man, he put out atter mo’, en w’en he done got fa’rly outer yearin’, Brer Rabbit, he show’d up, he did, kaze he des bin hidin’ out in de bushes lis’nin’ at de racket, en he low hit mighty funny dat Miss Meadows ain’t come ’long, kaze he done bin down ter de doctor house, en dat’s fudder dan de preacher, yit. Brer Rabbit make like he hurr’in’ on home, but Brer Fox, he open up, he did, en he say:

“‘I thank you fer ter tu’n me loose, Brer Rabbit, en Ill be ’blije,’ sezee, ‘Kaze you done tie me up so tight dat it make my head swim, en I don’t speck I’d las’ fer ter git ter Miss Meadows’s,’ sezee.

“Brer Rabbit, he sot down sorter keerless like, en begin fer ter scratch one year like a man studyin’ ’bout sump’n.

“‘Dat’s so, Brer Fox,’ sezee, ‘you duz look sorter stove up. Look like sump’n bin onkoamin’ yo’ ha’rs,’ sezee.

“Brer Fox ain’t sayin’ nothin’, but Brer Rabbit, he keep on talkin’:

‘Dey ain’t no bad feelin’s ’twix’ us, is dey, Brer Fox? Kaze ef dey is, I ain’t got no time fer ter be tarryin’ ’roun’ yer.’

“Brer Fox say w’ich he don’t have no onfrennelness, en wid dat Brer Rabbit cut Brer Fox loose des in time fer ter hear Mr. Man w’isserlin up his dogs, en one went one way en de udder went nudder.”