“No, Sabey. Beaver Dam is more than two miles off, and I heard a gun in the Stackyard.”
“Yaas, suh, but duh Beabuh Dam uh shoot’um. Uh mek uh bline’ on da’ po’ buckruh’ groun’, ’cause him all-time duh mek bline’ ’puntop’uh yo’ groun’, en’ uh shoot him tuckrey fuh pay’um back, en’ uh ’spec’ da’ gun you yeddy shoot duh da’ po’ buckruh wuh bin attuh da’ gang uh tuckrey wuh use een dem dogwood t’icket. Meself been yeddy uh gun shoot Stackyaa’d w’en uh bin Beabuh Dam.” “Mas’ Rafe” passed his hand admiringly over the glossy breast of the largest bird while deftly feeling his crop. “What did you bait these turkeys with?”
“Uh bait’um wid cawn, ’cause uh nebbuh mek no peas las’yeah, needuhso no rice.”
“Did you work here last week?”
“Yaas, suh, uh wu’k Chuesday and T’ursday ebenin’.”
“What did you do?”
“Uh beat rice, suh.”
“How much rice did you take home in that bag you carried?”
“Eh, eh, Mas’ Rafe! You see me wid bag? You t’ink suh me t’ief yo’ rice? Wuh nyuse me hab fuh rice? Me en’ Bess alltwo lub fuh eat cawn hom’ny tummuch.”
“You didn’t bait these turkeys with rice, did you?”