“One time Brer Wolf wuz gwine ’long de big road feelin’ mighty proud en high-strung. He wuz a mighty high-up man in dem days, Brer Wolf wuz, en mos’ all de yuther creeturs wuz feard tin ’im. Well, he wuz gwine ’long lickin’ his chops en walkin’ sorter stiff-kneed, w’en he happen ter look down ’pon de groun’ en dar he seed a track in de san’. Brer Wolf stop, he did, en look at it, en den he ’low:
“‘Heyo! w’at kind er creetur dish yer? Brer Dog ain’t make dat track, en needer is Brer Fox. Hit’s one er deze yer kind er creeturs w’at ain’t got no claws. I’ll des ’bout foller ’im up, en ef I ketch ’im he’ll sholy be my meat.’
“Dat de way Brer Wolf talk. He followed ’long atter de track, he did, en he look at it close, but he ain’t see no print er no claw’. Bimeby de track tuck ’n tu’n out de road en go up a dreen whar de rain done wash out. De track wuz plain dar in de wet san’, but Brer Wolf ain’t see no sign er no claws.
“He foller en foller, Brer Wolf did, en de track git fresher en fresher, but still he ain’t see no print er no claw. Bimeby he come in sight er de creetur, en Brer Wolf stop, he did, en look at ’im. He stop stock-still en look. De creetur wuz mighty quare lookin’, en he wuz cuttin’ up some mighty quare capers. He had big head, sharp nose, en bob tail, en he wuz walkin’ ’roun’ en ’roun’ a big dog-wood tree, rubbin’ his sides ag’in it. Brer Wolf watch ’im a right smart while, en den he ’low:
“‘Shoo! dat creetur done bin in a fight en los’ de bes’ part er he tail, en mo’ ’n dat, he got de eatch, kaze ef he ain’t got de eatch w’at make he scratch hisse’f dat away? I lay I ’ll let ’im know who he foolin’ ’long wid.’
“Atter while, Brer Wolf went up a leetle nigher de creetur, en holler out:
“‘Heyo, dar! w’at you doin’ scratchin’ yo’ scaly hide on my tree, en tryin’ fer ter break hit down?’
“De creetur ain’t make no answer. He des walk ’roun’ en ’roun’ de tree scratchin’ he sides en back. Brer Wolf holler out:
“‘I lay I ’ll make you year me ef I hatter come dar whar you is.’
“De creetur des walk ’roun’ en ’roun’ de tree, en ain’t make no answer. Den Brer Wolf hail ’im ag’in, en talk like he mighty mad: