“‘I’ll des shake han’s wid one un um en den I’ll go.’
“Well,” continued Uncle Remus, “Brer Fox went up en shuck han’s wid one un um, en he must ’a’ squoze mighty hard, kaze de guinea make a mighty flutterment; en he mus’ ’a’ helt on wid a mighty tight grip, kaze w’en he tuck off his hat en bowed good-by de guinea went ’long wid ’im.
“Well, suh,” said the old man solemnly, “you never is year tell er sech a racket ez dem guineas kicked up w’en dey ’skiver dat Brer Fox done make off wid one un um. Dey squall en dey squall twel dey rousted up de whole neighborhoods. De dogs got ter barkin’, de owls got ter hootin’, de hosses got ter kickin’, de cows got ter lowin’, en de chickens got ter crowin’.
“En mo’ dan dat,” Uncle Remus continued, “de guineas wuz dat skeered dat dey tu’n right pale on de neck en on de gills, en ef you don’t b’lieve me you kin go up dar in de gyarden en look at um fer yo’se’f.”
But the little boy had no idea of going. He saw by Uncle Remus’s air of preoccupation that the story was not yet concluded.
“En mo’ dan dat,” said the old man, after a short pause, “dey got skeerd so bad dat from dat day ter dis dey don’t sleep soun’ at night. Dey may squat ’roun’ in de shade en nod in de daytime, dough I ain’t kotch um at it, en dey may sort er nod atter dey go ter roos’ at night; but ef a betsey bug flies by um, er yit ef a sparrer flutters in de bushes, dey er wide awake; dey mos’ sholy is.
“Hit seem like ter me,” Uncle Remus continued, “dat dey mus’ be ha’nted in der dreams by ole Brer Fox, kaze all times er night you kin year um gwine on:
“‘L-o-o-o-o-k, look, look! Dar he is, dar he is! Go ’way, go ’way!’
“Some folks say dat dey holler, ‘Pot-rack! pot-rack!’ but dem w’at talk dat away is mostly w’ite folks, en dey ain’t know nuthin’ ’t all ’bout dem ole times. Mars John en Miss Sally mout know, but ef dey does I ain’t year um sesso.”