“‘I’m nigher ter you, Brer Buzzard,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’dan I’ll be ter Brer Rabbit dis day,’ sezee.  ‘W’at you fool me fer?’ sezee.

“‘Lemme lone, Brer Fox,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee; my ole ’oman waitin’ fer me.  Brer Rabbit in dar,’ sezee.

“‘Dar’s a bunch er his fur on dat black-be’y bush,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ‘en dat ain’t de way he come,’ sezee.

“Den Mr. Buzzard up’n tell Brer Fox how ’twuz, en he ’low’d, Mr. Buzzard did, dat Brer Rabbit wuz de lowdownest w’atsizname w’at he ever run up wid.  Den Brer Fox say, sezee: 

“‘Dat’s needer here ner dar, Brer Buzzard,’ sezee.  ‘I lef’ you yer fer ter watch dish yere hole, en I lef’ Brer Rabbit in dar.  I comes back en I fines you at de ’ole en Brer Rabbit ain’t in dar,’ sezee.  ’I’m gwineter make you pay fer’t.  I done bin tampered wid twel plum’ down ter de sap sucker’ll set on a log en sassy me.  I’m gwineter fling you in a bresh-heap en burn you up,’ sezee.

“’Ef you fling me on der fier, Brer Fox, I’ll fly ‘way,’ sez Mr. Buzzard, sezee.

“‘Well, den, I’ll settle yo’ hash right now,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, en wid dat he grab Mr. Buzzard by de tail, he did, en make fer ter dash ’im ‘gin de groun’, but des ’bout dat time de tail fedders come out, en Mr. Buzzard sail off like one er dese yer berloons; en ez he riz, he holler back: 

“‘You gimme good start, Brer Fox,’ sezee, en Brer Fox sot dar en watch ’im fly outer sight.”

“But what became of the Rabbit, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.

“Don’t you pester longer Brer Rabbit, honey, en don’t you fret ’bout ’im.  You’ll year whar he went en how he come out.  Dish yer col’ snap rastles wid my bones, now,” continued the old man, putting on his hat and picking up his walking-stick.  “Hit rastles wid me monstus, en I gotter rack ‘roun’ en see if I kin run up agin some Chris’mus leavin’s.”

IX.  MISS COW FALLS A VICTIM TO MR. RABBIT

“Uncle remus,” said the little boy, “what became of the Rabbit after he fooled the Buzzard, and got out of the hollow tree?”

“Who?  Brer Rabbit?  Bless yo’ soul, honey, Brer Rabbit went skippin’ long home, he did, des ez sassy ez a jay-bird at a sparrer’s nes’.  He went gallopin’ ’long, he did, but he feel mighty fired out, en stiff in his jints, en he wuz mighty nigh dead for sumpin fer ter drink, en bimeby, w’en he got mos’ home, he spied ole Miss Cow feedin’ roun’ in a fiel’, he did, en he ‘termin’ fer ter try his han’ wid ’er.  Brer Rabbit know mighty well dat Miss Cow won’t give ’im no milk, kaze she done ’fuse ’im mo’n once, en w’en his ole ’oman wuz sick, at dat.  But never mind dat.  Brer Rabbit sorter dance up long side er de fence, he did, en holler out: 

“‘Howdy, Sis Cow,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“‘W’y, howdy, Brer Rabbit,’ sez Miss Cow, sez she.

“‘How you fine yo’se’f deze days, Sis Cow?’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.