“What did the Buzzard do then?” asked the little boy.

“Dey riz,” continued Uncle Remus, “en w’en dey lit, dey lit in de top er de highest sorter pine, en de pine w’at dey lit in wuz growin’ on er ilun, en de ilun wuz in de middle er de river, wid de deep water runnin’ all ‘roun’.  Dey ain’t mo’n lit ‘fo’ Brer Rabbit, he know w’ich way de win’ ‘uz blowin’, en by de time ole Brer Buzzard got hisse’f balance on a lim’, Brer Rabbit, he up’n say, sezee: 

“’W’iles we er res’n here, Brer Buzzard, en bein’s you bin so good, I got sump’n fer ter tell you,’ sezee.  ’I got a gol’-mine er my own, one w’at I make myse’f, en I speck we better go back ter mine ‘fo’ we bodder ‘longer yone,’ sezee.

“Den ole Brer Buzzard, he laff, he did, twel he shake, en Brer Rabbit, he sing out: 

“‘Hol’ on, Brer Buzzard!  Don’t flop yo’ wings w’en you laff, kaze den if you duz, sump’n ’ill drap fum up yer, en my gol’-mine won’t do you no good, en needer will yone do me no good.’

“But ‘fo’ dey got down fum dar, Brer Rabbit done tole all ’bout de crap, en he hatter prommus fer ter ’vide fa’r en squar.  So Brer Buzzard, he kyar ’im back, en Brer Rabbit he walk weak in de knees a mont’ atterwuds.”

XXII.  A STORY ABOUT THE LITTLE RABBITS

“Fin’ um whar you will en w’en you may,” remarked Uncle Remus with emphasis, “good chilluns allers gits tuck keer on.  Dar wuz Brer Rabbit’s chilluns; dey minded der daddy en mammy fum day’s een’ ter day’s een’.  W’en ole man Rabbit say scoot,’ dey scooted, en w’en ole Miss Rabbit say ‘scat,’ dey scatted.  Dey did dat.  En dey kep der cloze clean, en dey ain’t had no smut on der nose nudder.”

Involuntarily the hand of the little boy went up to his face, and he scrubbed the end of his nose with his coat-sleeve.

“Dey wuz good chilluns,” continued the old man, heartily, “en ef dey hadn’t er bin, der wuz one time w’en dey wouldn’t er bin no little rabbits—­na’er one.  Dat’s w’at.”

“What time was that, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked.

“De time w’en Brer Fox drapt in at Brer Rabbit house, en didn’t foun’ nobody dar ceppin’ de little Rabbits.  Ole Brer Rabbit, he wuz off some’rs raiding on a collard patch, en ole Miss Rabbit she wuz tendin’ on a quiltin’ in de naberhood, en wiles de little Rabbits wuz playin’ hidin’-switch, in drapt Brer Fox.  De little Rabbits wuz so fat dat dey fa’rly make his mouf water, but he ’member ’bout Brer Wolf, en he skeer’d fer ter gobble urn up ceppin’ he got some skuse.  De little Rabbits, dey mighty skittish, en dey sorter huddle deyse’f up tergedder en watch Brer Fox motions.  Brer Fox, he sot dar en study w’at sorter skuse he gwineter make up.  Bimeby he see a great big stalk er sugar-cane stan’in’ up in de cornder, en he cle’r up his th’oat en talk biggity: 

“’Yer! you young Rabs dar, sail ‘roun’ yer en broke me a piece er dat sweetnin’-tree,’ sezee, en den he koff.