“Ah-yi!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, in a tone of exultation; “dat’s diffunt. Now, dat’s diffunt. De creeturs talk des ’bout like dey allus did, but folks ain’t smart ez dey used ter wuz. You kin year de creeturs talkin’, but you dunner w’at dey say. Yit I boun’ you ef I wuz ter pick you up, en set you down in de middle er de Two-Mile Swamp, you’d year talkin’ all night long.”
The little boy shivered at the suggestion.
“Uncle Remus, who talks out there in the swamp?”
“All de creeturs, honey, all de creeturs. Mo’ speshually ole man Owl, en all he famberly connexion.”
“Have you ever heard them, Uncle Remus?”
“Many’s en many’s de time, honey. W’en I gits lonesome wid folks, I des up en takes down my walkin’ cane, I does, en I goes off dar whar I kin year um, en I sets dar en feels dez es familious ez w’en I’m a-settin’ yer jawin’ ’long er you.”
“What do they say, Uncle Remus?”
“It seems like ter me,” said the old man, frowning, as if attempting to recall familiar names, “dat one er um name Billy Big-Eye, en t’er one name Tommy Long-Wing. One er um sets in a poplar-tree on one side er de swamp, en t’er one sets in a pine on t’er side,” Uncle Remus went on, as the child went a little closer to him. “W’en night come, good en dark, Billy Big-Eye sorter cle’r up he th’oat en ’low:
“‘Tom! Tommy Long-Wing! Tom! Tommy Long-Wing!’”
Uncle Remus allowed his voice to rise and fall, giving it a far-away but portentous sound, the intonation being a weirdly-exact imitation of the hooting of a large swamp-owl. The italicized words will give a faint idea of this intonation.