Uncle Abe was imperturbable. “Yaas, suh.”
“I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Dat yo’ priv-lige, Marse Joyce.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound likely to me, especially when you say you’ve rheumatism in your feet.”
“I’se gotter eat, suh.”
“What’s that got to do with it? There are no stores on these trails. What do you pretend you were doing, anyway?”
Ol’ Man River chuckled gently. “Baitin’ traps.”
“Catch anything?” Joyce sneered. “I don’t suppose you did.”
“Den you’s a mighty bad ’sposer, suh. Kaze I done cotch dat der rabbit yonder!”
Following the direction of his pointed finger, Dorothy saw for the first time that a large jackrabbit hung from a crossbeam in a corner.