“‘Ain’t you gwine ter min’ me, you imperdent scoundul? Ain’t you gwine ter mozey outer my woods en let my tree ’lone?’
“Wid dat, Brer Wolf march todes des creetur des like he gwine ter squ’sh ’im in de groun’. De creetur rub hisse’f ag’in de tree en look like he feel mighty good. Brer Wolf keep on gwine todes ’im, en bimeby w’en he git sorter close de creetur tuck ’n sot up on his behime legs des like you see squir’ls do. Den Brer Wolf, he ’low, he did:
“‘Ah-yi! you beggin’, is you? But ’t ain’t gwine ter do you no good. I mout er let you off ef you’d a-minded me w’en I fus’ holler atter you, but I ain’t gwine ter let you off now. I’m a-gwine ter l’arn you a lesson dat’ll stick by you.’
“Den de creetur sorter wrinkle up his face en mouf, en Brer Wolf ’low:
“‘Oh, you neenter swell up en cry, you ’ceitful vilyun. I’m a-gwine ter gi’ you a frailin’ dat I boun’ yer won’t forgit.’
“Brer Wolf make like he gwine ter hit de creetur, en den——”
Here Uncle Remus paused and looked all around the room and up at the rafters. When he began again his voice was very solemn.
——“Well, suh, dat creetur des fotch one swipe dis away, en ’n’er swipe dat away, en mos’ ’fo’ you kin wink yo’ eye-balls, Brer Wolf hide wuz mighty nigh teetotally tor’d off’n ’im. Atter dat de creetur sa’ntered off in de woods, en ’gun ter rub hisse’f on ’n’er tree.”
“What kind of a creature was it, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy.
“Well, honey,” replied the old man in a confidential whisper, “hit wa’n’t nobody on de top-side er de yeth but ole Brer Wildcat.”