“Well, dis yere scoff turn out to be all bisceyt, Boer bisceyt, an’ de baas he give Ou’ Jackalse enough fo’ bofe o’ dem, an’ Ou’ Jackalse he start back.
“Now on de way he see a bushy little bush, an’ he t’row one bisceyt in dere to hide it. An’ on de way he seen anoder little bush, an’ he t’row anoder bisceyt into dat bush too, an’ he do like a-dat till he ha’n’t on’y one bisceyt left. An’ den he up an’ show Ou’ Wolf dat leetle one bisceyt. ‘Dat’s all de man had,’ ses he. ‘One f’r hisse’f, one f’r his wife an’ childer, an’ one f’r us. But he’s a-gun’ to have mo’ to-morro’, he ses.’
“‘I reckon he yust is,’ ses Ou’ Wolf, letting de hoe drop like he never had hold of it yet. ‘If he’s a-gun’ to get any more o’ dis yere lan’s hoed den he yust is. How’s I a-gun’ to hoe to’acco on half a bisceyt?’ ses he. ‘An’ dis is de sort o’ yob you was so sa’cy dat you’d got it to keep us f’m starvin’, is it?’ ses he. ‘A whole one half o’ one bisceyt!’ snorts he, ’s if he wants to see some’dy yust step on his shadda, dat’s all.
“‘Well, half o’ one bisceyt—dat’s a deal better’n de whole o’ one day widout no scoff at all,’ sniffs Ou’ Jackalse, mighty insulted. ‘But den, never mind. I is a bit stronger’n you, anyhow; so you yust eat my half o’ dat bisceyt as well’s your own, an’ I’ll slip back an’ eat some o’ de corn I seen dropped by de barn. Dere’s two-t’ree grains dere yet if de birds ain’t pick ’em up ’fore dis,’ an’ off he flops, lookin’ yust as full o’ pious as a location predicant (Parson) when he’s got a good collection on a Sunday.
“Ou’ Wolf he feel a mighty sneak to let Ou’ Jackalse lose his half de bisceyt like dat, but he don’t can he’p it nohow, an’ he’s yust so ’ongry dat while he bite off his own half o’ de bisceyt he mess de yonder half de same time, an’ den he might yust as well eat dat half too, ’cause he cahnt offer it to Ou’ Jackalse now when it’s all mussed. An’—well; de fus’ ting Ou’ Wolf know, gop! he scoff dat half too. But he feel dat mean dat he work dat hoe like steam to easy his mind a bit.
“All dis time Ou’ Jackalse he’s a-pickin’ up dem bisceyt he hid in de bushes, an’ yust a-blowin’ hisse’f out, till he cahnt on’y wink an’ har’ly stir his tail where he lie an’ bake alongside a stone.
“Well, it go on like dis for one day after anoder, till one day along comes Ou’ Mensefreiter, an’ he see Ou’ Wolf a-hoein’ in de to’acco, an’ he see Ou’ Jackalse a-snuggin’ an’ a-bakin’ atween a bush an’ a stone. ‘Wotto!’ ses Ou’ Mensefreiter. ‘Here’s two,’ an’ he fair seizes ’em, an’ he offs.”
“But Ou’ Ta’,” interjected the little girl. “What was that Mensefreiter like?”
“Oh, he was one o’ dese yere bo’-constructors yo’ daddy tells you about. An’ yet he don’t was yust a constructor needer. He was one o’ dese puff-adders what spring t’ree yards high an’ t’ree yards far at you, quicker’n you’ eye can flash to watch ’em; only he was de grandaddy of ’em all, an’ so he was bigger’n a bo’-constructor, an’ de same way he could strike forty yard high, an’ forty yard far, an’ forty times quicker’n de biggest puff-adder dat ever make you yump an’ run in de veldt. An’ he yust grab dese two and offs wid ’em to where he live—an’ dat’s de yonder side de drift down here.
“Well, de Mensefreiter he took de two out an’ look ’em up an down, top an’ bottom, as soon as he gets to his kraal. He feel Ou’ Wolf’s bones an’ he shake his head. ‘You is pretty fine drawed,’ ses he. ‘It ’ud take two o’ you to make a shadda. You’ll want some fattin’ ’fore you’s good enough for a bile, let alone a roast.’