Arter dinner Jim set on my knee jes' ez quiet, never axin' fer his mammy onct, an' thim babies slept on jes' like they knowed they war twins an' ther mammy gone. Pretty soon it began ter get dark an' th' snow war a-fallin' ag'in a leetle. Jim went ter sleep an' I pot him ter bed. The time 'peared ter go powerful slow arter that, an' I began ter nod.
It must have been eight o'clock whin voices in th' yard waked me. I opened th' door an' Mitch called out:
“Stir up the fire an' give us a leetle more light. Thar ain't no bones broke, but Jim don't feel egsactly piert.”
They brung him in an' his face war jes' ez pale an' he looked powerful weak.
Most of his coat war tore of'en him an' th' blood war a-droppin' from a place in his arm. Becky looked plumb wore out, but th' fust thin' she did soon ez Jim war on th' bed war ter lean over th' cradle an' sez:
“Uncle Duke, war my babies good?”
“Jes' ez good ez two leetle angels,” I sed, spitin' th' fact th' side uv my head war pretty sore from ther pullin' an' scratchin'.
She helped ter git Jim's arm wrapped up an' him warm in bed, an' thin began ter get supper, like nothin' hed happened out'n th' common. Whin I seed how pale she looked, I sed:
“Jus' yer git out th' plates an' I'll tend the fire. I 'low arter cookin' fer nigh thirty year, I kin git a snack yer can eat.”
It twarn't long until another rabbit war in th' pan an' th' coffee a-boilin'. Jim looked up whin he smelt the cookin' an' sez: