“Brer Rabbit make like he didn’t want ter tell, but Brer Fox he ’sist en ‘sist, twel at las’ Brer Rabbit he up en tell Brer Fox dat he hear Jack Sparrer say all dis.

“‘Co’se,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, ’w’en Brer Jack Sparrer tell me dat I flew up, I did, en I use some langwidge w’ich I’m mighty glad dey weren’t no ladies ‘round’ nowhars so dey could hear me go on, sezee.

“Brer Fox he sorter gap, he did, en say he speck he better be sa’nter’n on.  But, bless yo’ soul, honey, Brer Fox ain’t sa’nter fur, ‘fo’ Jack Sparrer flipp down on a ’simmon-bush by de side er de road, en holler out: 

“‘Brer Fox!  Oh, Brer Fox!—­Brer Fox!’

“Brer Fox he des sorter canter long, he did, en make like he don’t hear ’im.  Den Jack Sparrer up’n sing out agin: 

“‘Brer Fox!  Oh, Brer Fox!  Hol’ on, Brer Fox!  I got some news fer you.  Wait Brer Fox!  Hit’ll ‘stonish you.’

“Brer Fox he make like he don’t see Jack Sparrer, ner needer do he hear ’im, but bimeby he lay down by de road, en sorter stretch hisse’f like he fixin’ fer ter nap.  De tattlin’ Jack Sparrer he flew’d ‘long, en keep on callin’ Brer Fox, but Brer Fox, he ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.  Den little Jack Sparrer, he hop down on de groun’ en flutter ‘roun’ ’mongst de trash.  Dis sorter ’track Brer Fox ‘tenshun, en he look at de tattlin’ bird, en de bird he keep on callin’: 

“‘I got sump’n fer ter tell you, Brer Fox.’

“‘Git on my tail, little Jack Sparrer,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee, ’kaze I’m de’f in one year, en I can’t hear out’n de udder.  Git on my tail,’ sezee.

“Den de little bird he up’n hop on Brer Fox’s tail.

“’Git on my back, little Jack Sparrer, kaze I’m de’f in one year en I can’t hear out’n de udder.’

“Den de little bird hop on his back.

“’Hop on my head, little Jack Sparrer, kaze I’m de’f in bofe years.’

“Up hop de little bird.

“’Hop on my toof, little Jack Sparrer, kaze I’m de’f in one year en I can’t hear out’n de udder.’

“De tattlin’ little bird hop on Brer Fox’s toof, en den—­”

Here Uncle Remus paused, opened wide his mouth and closed it again in a way that told the whole story. 1

“Did the Fox eat the bird all—­all up?” asked the little boy.

“Jedge B’ar come long nex’ day,” replied Uncle Remus, “en he fine some fedders, en fum dat word went roun’ dat ole man Squinch Owl done kotch nudder watzizname.”

1 An Atlanta friend heard this story in Florida, but an
   alligator was substituted for the fox, and a little boy for
   the rabbit.  There is another version in which the impertinent
   gosling goes to tell the fox something her mother has said,
   and is caught; and there may be other versions.  I have adhered
   to the middle Georgia version, which is characteristic enough. 
   It may be well to state that there are different versions of
   all the stories—­the shrewd narrators of the mythology of the
   old plantation adapting themselves with ready tact to the
   years, tastes, and expectations of their juvenile audiences.