De Tar-Baby, she sot dar, she did, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

“’Mawnin’!’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee — ‘nice wedder dis mawnin’,’ sezee.

“Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

“’How duz yo’ sym’tums seem ter segashuate?’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.

“’How you come on, den? Is you deaf?’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. ‘Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,’ sezee.

“Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

“’Youer stuck up, dat’s w’at you is,’ says Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en I’m gwineter kyore you, dat’s w’at I’m a gwineter do,’ sezee.

“Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummuck, he did, but Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.

“’I’m gwineter larn you howter talk ter ‘specttubble fokes ef hit’s de las’ ack,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. ‘Ef you don’t take off dat hat en tell me howdy, I’m gwineter bus’ you wide open,’ sezee.

“Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

“Brer Rabbit keep on axin’ ‘im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on sayin’ nuthin’, twel present’y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his fis’, he did, en blip he tuck ‘er side er de head. Right dar’s whar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis’ stuck, en he can’t pull loose. De tar hilt ‘im. But Tar-Baby, she stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

“’Ef you don’t lemme loose, I’ll knock you agin,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch ‘er a wipe wid de udder han’, en dat stuck. Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

“’Tu’n me loose, fo’ I kick de natal stuffin’ outen you,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’. She des hilt on, en den Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de same way. Brer Fox, he lay low. Den Brer Rabbit squall out dat ef de Tar-Baby don’t tu’n ’im loose he butt ‘er cranksided. En den he butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox, he sa’ntered fort’, lookin’ des ez innercent ez wunner yo’ mammy’s mockin’-birds.

“’Howdy, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. ‘You look sorter stuck up dis mawnin’,’ sezee, en den he rolled on de groun’, en laft en laft twel he couldn’t laff no mo’. ‘I speck you’ll take dinner wid me dis time, Brer Rabbit. I done laid in some calamus root, en I ain’t gwineter take no skuse,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.”

Here Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two-pound yam out of the ashes.

“Did the fox eat the rabbit?” asked the little boy to whom the story had been told.

“Dat’s all de fur de tale goes,” replied the old man. “He mout, en den agin he mountent. Some say Jedge B’ar come ‘long en loosed ’im — some say he didn’t. I hear Miss Sally callin’. You better run ’long.”

III.

WHY MR. POSSUM
LOVES PEACE.

“One night,” said Uncle Remus — taking Miss Sally’s little boy on his knee, and stroking the child’s hair thoughtfully and caressingly — “one night Brer Possum call by fer Brer Coon, ‘cordin’ ter greement, en atter gobblin’ up a dish er fried greens en smokin’ a seegyar, dey rambled fort’ fer ter see how de ballunce er de settlement wuz gittin’ ’long. Brer Coon, he wuz wunner deze yer natchul pacers, en he racked ‘long same ez Mars John’s bay pony, en Brer Possum he went in a han’-gallup; en dey got over heap er groun’, mon. Brer Possum, he got his belly full er ‘simmons, en Brer Coon, he scoop up a ‘bunnunce er frogs en tadpoles. Dey amble ‘long, dey did, des ez soshubble ez a baskit er kittens, twel bimeby dey hear Mr. Dog talkin’ ter hisse’f way off in de woods.

“’Spozen he runs up on us, Brer Possum, w’at you gwineter do?’ sez Brer Coon, sezee. Brer Possum sorter laff ‘round de cornders un his mouf.

“’Oh, ef he come, Brer Coon, I’m gwineter stan’ by you,’ sez Brer Possum. ‘W’at you gwineter do?’ sezee.

“’Who? me?’ sez Brer Coon. ‘Ef he run up onter me, I lay I give ‘im one twis’,’ sezee.”

“Did the dog come?” asked the little boy.

“Go ‘way, honey!” responded the old man, in an impressive tone. “Go way! Mr. Dog, he come en he come a zoonin’.