“‘How I gwineter git down, Brer Rabbit?’

“’Jump inter de bucket, Brer Fox.  Hit’ll fetch you down all safe en soun’.’

“Brer Rabbit talk so happy en talk so sweet dat Brer Fox he jump in de bucket, he did, en, ez he went down, co’se his weight pull Brer Rabbit up.  W’en dey pass one nudder on de half-way growl’, Brer Rabbit he sing out: 

“‘Good-by, Brer Fox, take keer yo’ cloze,
Fer dis is de way de worl’ goes;
Some goes up en some goes down,
You’ll git ter de bottom all safe en soun’.’ 1

“W’en Brer Rabbit got out, he gallop off en tole de fokes w’at de well blong ter dat Brer Fox wuz down in dar muddyin’ up de drinkin’ water, en den he gallop back ter de well, en holler down ter Brer Fox: 

“’Ye come a man wid a great big gun—­W’en he haul you up, you jump en run."’

“What then, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy, as the old man paused.

“In des ’bout half ’n hour, honey, bofe un um wuz back in de new groun’ wukkin’ des like dey never heer’d er no well, ceppin’ dat eve’y now’n den Brer Rabbit’d bust out in er laff, en old Brer Fox, he’d git a spell er de dry grins.”

1 As a Northern friend suggests that this story may be somewhat
   obscure, it may be as well to state that the well is supposed
   to be supplied with a rope over a wheel, or pulley, with a
   bucket at each end.

XVII.  MR. RABBIT NIBBLES UP THE BUTTER

’"De animils en de creeturs,” said Uncle Remus, shaking his coffee around in the bottom of his tin-cup, in order to gather up all the sugar, ‘dey kep’ on gittin’ mo’ en mo’ familious wid wunner nudder, twel bimeby, ’twan’t long ‘fo’ Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum got ter sorter bunchin’ der perwishuns tergedder in de same shanty.  Atter w’ile de roof sorter ’gun ter leak, en one day Brer Rabbit, en Brer Fox, en Brer Possum, ’semble fer ter see ef dey can’t kinder patch her up.  Dey had a big day’s work in front un um, en dey fotch der dinner wid um.  Dey lump de vittles up in one pile, en de butter w’at Brer Fox brung, dey goes en puts in de spring-’ouse fer ter keep cool, en den dey went ter wuk, en ’twan’t long ‘fo’ Brer Rabbit’s stummuck ’gun ter sorter growl en pester ’im.  Dat butter er Brer Fox sot heavy on his mine, en his mouf water eve’y time he ’member ’bout it.  Present’y he say ter hisse’f dat he bleedzd ter have a nip at dat butter, en den he lay his plans, he did.  Fus’ news you know, w’ile dey wuz all wukkin’ long, Brer Rabbit raise his head quick en fling his years forerd en holler out: 

“‘Here I is.  W’at you want wid me?’ en off he put like sump’n wuz atter ’im.

“He sallied ‘roun’, ole Brer Rabbit did, en atter he make sho dat nobody ain’t foller’n un ’im, inter de spring-’ouse he bounces, en dar he stays twel he git a bait er butter.  Den he santer on back en go to wuk.