“Brer Fox son wuz name Tobe, en Brer Rabbit tell Tobe fer ter keep still w’iles his mammy cook de nice beef w’at his daddy sont ’im.  Tobe he wuz mighty hongry, en he look in de pot he did w’iles de cookin’ wuz gwine on, en dar he see his daddy head, en wid dat he sot up a howl en tole his mammy.  Miss Fox, she git mighty mad w’en she fine she cookin’ her ole man head, en she call up de dogs, she did, en sickt em on Brer Rabbit; en ole Miss Fox en Tobe en de dogs, dey push Brer Rabbit so close dat he hatter take a holler tree.  Miss Fox, she tell Tobe fer ter stay dar en mine Brer Rabbit, w’ile she goes en git de ax, en w’en she gone, Brer Rabbit, he tole Tobe ef he go ter de branch en git ’im a drink er water dat he’ll gin ’im a dollar.  Tobe, he put out, he did, en bring some water in his hat, but by de time he got back Brer Rabbit done out en gone.  Ole Miss Fox, she cut and cut twel down come de tree, but no Brer Rabbit dar.  Den she lay de blame on Tobe, en she say she gwineter lash ’im, en Tobe, he put out en run, de ole ’oman atter ’im.  Bimeby, he come up wid Brer Rabbit, en sot down fer to tell ’im how ’twuz, en w’iles dey wuz a settin’ dar, yer come ole Miss Fox a slippin’ up en grab um bofe.  Den she tell um w’at she gwine do.  Brer Rabbit she gwineter kill, en Tobe she gwineter lam ef its de las’ ack.  Den Brer Rabbit sez, sezee: 

“’Ef you please, ma’am, Miss Fox, lay me on de grinestone en groun off my nose so I can’t smell no mo’ w’en I’m dead.’

“Miss Fox, she tuck dis ter be a good idee, en she fotch bofe un um ter de grinestone, en set um up on it so dat she could groun’ off Brer Rabbit nose.  Den Brer Rabbit, he up’n say, sezee: 

“’Ef you please, ma’am, Miss Fox, Tobe he kin turn de handle w’iles you goes atter some water fer ter wet de grinestone,’ sezee.

“Co’se, soon’z Brer Rabbit see Miss Fox go atter de water, he jump down en put out, en dis time he git clean away.”

“And was that the last of the Rabbit, too, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, with something like a sigh.

“Don’t push me too close, honey,” responded the old man; “don’t shove me up in no cornder.  I don’t wanter tell you no stories.  Some say dat Brer Rabbit’s ole ‘oman died fum eatin’ some pizen-weed, en dat Brer Rabbit married ole Miss Fox, en some say not.  Some tells one tale en some tells nudder; some say dat fum dat time forrerd de Rabbits en de Foxes make fren’s en stay so; some say dey kep on quollin’.  Hit look like it mixt.  Let dem tell you w’at knows.  Dat w’at I years you gits it straight like I yeard it.”

There was a long pause, which was finally broken by the old man: 

“Hit’s ‘gin de rules fer you ter be noddin’ yer, honey.  Bimeby you’ll drap off en I’ll hatter tote you up ter de big ’ouse.  I hear dat baby cryin’, en bimeby Miss Sally’ll fly up en be a holler’n atter you”

“Oh, I wasn’t asleep,” the little boy replied.  “I was just thinking.”