“No! No! Certainly not!” cried old Mr. Crow.
“Yes’m—yes, sah! If a fly lights on the Muley Cow’s back, I’se a-goin’ to swish it off with my tail.”
“No! No! My goodness, no!” exclaimed old Mr. Crow. “Listen to me. I’ll explain carefully. I trust—” he added—“I trust it’s not necessary for me to use words of one syllable.”
“One which?” Mistah Mule inquired, cocking a long ear towards Mr. Crow.
Mr. Crow paid no heed to the question. “I’ll put it this way,” he said: “I want to have a little fun with the Muley Cow. I want to tease her a bit. So when you meet her—as you’re sure to, if you stay here on the farm—just say, ‘Good morning, madam! I see your tail is very much like mine.’ Now you understand, don’t you?”
Mistah Mule scratched his head with one hind foot. Something still puzzled him.
“How that a-goin’ to tease her?” he asked. “’Pears to me it a-goin’ to please her.”
“You think so?” Mr. Crow retorted with a sly smile. “Well, perhaps you’re right. Try it, anyhow. And let me know what she says to you.”
Then Mr. Crow flew away towards the cornfield.
“Huh!” Mistah Mule grunted as he watched Mr. Crow growing smaller and smaller in the distance. “That ole rascal, he a-tryin’ to git me into trouble. That old Jim Crow, he think he’s mighty sly. But I reckon maybe I kin play a trick or two my own self.” And Mistah Mule laughed in his odd fashion, “Hee-haw! Hee-haw!”