“There’s a mistake somewhere,” he croaked, amid the loud laughter of his friends. “I should like to know what Mistah Mule said to you.”
“He said something about you, Mr. Crow. But I’d rather not repeat it.”
Old Mr. Crow tried to make himself heard above the clamor of his cronies, who were having a better time, even, than they had expected.
“That Mistah Mule is two-faced,” he declared. “I’m going straight to him and ask him what he means by gossiping about me.”
“We’ll come too!” cried his friends.
He wished they would go away. But they all followed him as he sailed over the hillside and settled down beside Mistah Mule.
“What did you say to the Muley Cow?” Mr. Crow demanded fiercely of that dusky fellow.
“I done told her I didn’t ’spect to work none on this farm,” said Mistah Mule with a grin.
“Ha! I can well believe that,” cried Mr. Crow. “And what else, pray, did you say to her?”
“You mean, did I done say somethin’ ’bout a ole black rascal who thinks hisself mighty smart?” Mistah Mule inquired mildly.