“‘How’s dat?’ ses Ou’ Wolf, a-sittin’ down an’ proppin’ hisse’f up wid his front foots, an’ his tongue hangin’ out like a sheepskin.
“‘Dere’s a farmer de yonder side de ridge, an’ he want some’dy to do a bit in his to’acco, an’ he’ll give us a share of his scoff same as hisse’f,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse; an’ he look at Ou’ Wolf as if he ought to drop two tickies in de bag next time he goes to church, like an ole dopper farmer when de rain save de crop.
“But Ou’ Wolf he look at Ou’ Jackalse sort o’ s’picious. ‘Do a bit in de to’acco?’ ses he. ‘Dat’s work, ain’t it?’ ses he.
“‘An’ mighty glad to get it,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, out big an’ loud, makin’ as if he was just wishin’ dere was a hoe dere dis minute, so he could lick right in.
“‘But—work,’ ses Ou’ Wolf, an’ he droop his head an’ he shake it slow an’ swingin’.
“‘Well,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, sort o’ like he’s ponderin’ it. ‘Darie baas he reckon de man on de hoe is a-gun’ to be workin’, but de man on de hoe he might reckon he don’t know so much about dat. He might reckon he’ll knock it off in his own time. He might s’pose it’s him ha’ to do it; an’ he might ’member dat de longer dat yob last de longer his scoff last. See? fathead!’ ses he.
“‘Well, I wants de scoff,’ ses Ou’ Wolf; ‘dere ain’t no shadda ’bout dat. But, de work; I don’t know,’ ses he.
“‘Now you look-a’-me,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, ’s if he was fair tired o’ fool argyin’. ‘You knows me. Is I likely to make de grass fly much a-workin’? or is I de sort o’ one to work at all if dere was any oder snift of a chance o’ scoff?’ ses he.
“Ou’ Wolf tink he know Ou’ Jackalse pretty well by dis time. ‘No,’ ses he, kind o’ considerin’. ‘I don’t tink you’d work if dere was any oder chance,’ ses he.
“‘Come along o’ me, den,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, an’ away dey pops.