“He listen an’ listen.  Then he shift ’round to the other side of the chimney an’ listen.  No matter where he sit, he can’t hear what being said down inside that lil ol’ tumble-down house.  Then what do yo’ think Mistah Buzzard do?  Why, he jes’ stretch his fool haid as far down that chimney as he can an’ listen an’ listen.  Yes, Sah, that is jes’ what that no ‘count Buzzard do.  But all he hear is jes’ a mumbling and a mumbling, an’ that make him more curious than ever.  It seem to him that he must go clean outen his haid ’less he hear what going on down inside that lil ol’ house.

“Now when he stretch his haid an’ neck down the chimney that way, he get ’em all black with soot.  But he don’t mind that.  No, Sah, he don’ mind that a bit.  Fact is, he don’ notice it.  He so curious he don’ notice anything, an’ pretty soon he plumb fo’get where he is an’ that he is listening where he have no business.  He plumb fo’get all about this, an’ he holler down that chimney.  Yes, Sah, he holler right down that chimney!

“‘Will yo’-alls please speak a lil louder,’ he holler down the chimney, jes’ like that.

“Now the lil ol’ woman what lived by herself in that lil ol’ tumble-down house hadn’t seen that no ’count Buzzard light on the chimney fo’ to warm his toes, an’ when she hear that voice coming right outen the fireplace, she was some flustrated and scared, was that lil ol’ woman.  Yes, Sah, she sho’ly was plumb scared.  She so scared she tip over a whole kettleful of soup right in the fire.  Of course that make a terrible mess an’ a powerful lot of smoke an’ hot ashes fly up the chimney.  They like to choke that no ’count Buzzard to death.  They burn the feathers offen his haid an’ neck, an’ the soot make him black, all but his feet an’ laigs an’ the inside of his wings, which he keep closed.

“Mistah Buzzard he give a mighty squawk an’ fly away.  When he get home, he try an’ try to brush that soot off, but it done get into the skin an’ it stay there.  An’ from that day his haid an’ neck stay black, an’ he never speak lessen he spoken to, an’ then he only grunt.  His chillen jes’ like him, an’ his chillen’s chillen the same way.  An’ that is the reason that mah cousin who lives down souf done have a black haid,” concluded Ol’ Mistah Buzzard.

A little sigh of satisfaction went around the circle of listeners.  As usual, Peter Rabbit was the first to speak.

“That was a splendid story, Mr. Buzzard,” said he, “and I’m ever and ever so much obliged to you.  It was just as good as one of Grandfather Frog’s.”

Ol’ Mistah Buzzard grinned and slowly winked one eye at Unc’ Billy Possum as he replied:  “Thank yo’, Brer Rabbit.  That’s quite the nicest thing yo’ could say.”

“But it’s true!” shouted all together, and then everybody gave three cheers for Ol’ Mistah Buzzard before starting off to attend to their own private affairs.

XIII