“EN EVE’Y TIME HE SWUNG MR. BLACK SNAKE TUCK ’N LASH ’IM WID HE TAIL.”
“Den, atter so long a time, Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n tie Brer Wolf up ter a lim’, en dar dat creetur swung ’twixt de hevin en de yeth. He swung en swayed, en eve’y time he swung Mr. Black Snake tuck ’n lash ’im wid he tail, en eve’y time he lash ’im Brer Rabbit holler out, he did:
“‘Sarve ’im right! sarve ’im right!’
“En I let you know,” said the old man, refilling his pipe, “dat w’en Mr. Black Snake git thoo wid dat creetur, he ain’t want no mo’ goodies.”
WHY THE GUINEAS STAY AWAKE
One night when the little boy was waiting patiently for Uncle Remus to tell him a story, the guineas began to scream at a great rate, and they kept it up for some time.
“Ah, Lord!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, blowing the ashes from a sweet potato that had been roasting in the embers. “Ah, Lord! dem ar creeturs is mighty kuse creeturs. I boun’ you ef you go up dar whar dey is right now, you’ll fin’ some kind er varmint slippin’ ’roun’ und’ de bushes. Hit mout be ole Brer Fox. I won’t say p’intedly dat it’s Brer Fox,” the old man continued, with the air of one who is willing to assert only what he can prove, “yit it mout be. But ne’er min’ ’bout dat; Brer Fox er no Brer Fox, dem guinea hens ain’t gwine ter be kotch. De varments kin creep up en slip up ez de case may be, but dey ain’t gwine to slip up en ketch dem creeturs asleep.”
“Don’t the guineas ever sleep, Uncle Remus?” the little boy inquired. His curiosity was whetted.
“Oh, I ’speck dey does sleep,” replied the old man. “Yasser, dey er bleege ter sleep, but dey ain’t bin kotch at it—leastways, dey aint bin kotch at it not sence Brer Fox crope up on um long time ago. He kotch um a-snorin’ den, but he ain’t kotch um sence, en he ain’t gwine kotch um no mo’.