"'Now, den, folks and fr'en's, I bleedz ter say goo' bye. Cloud comin' up out yan, en mos' 'fo' we know it de rain 'll be a-po'in' en de grass 'll be a-growin'.'"
"Why, that's poetry, Uncle Remus!" interrupted the little boy.
"Tooby sho' 't is, honey! tooby sho' 't is. I des let you know Brer Rabbit 'uz a mighty man in dem days. Brer Fox, he see de cloud comin' up, en he up'n 'low he 'speck he better be gittin' 'long hisse'f, 'kaze he aint wanter git he Sunday-go-ter-meetin' cloze wet. Miss Meadows en Miss Motts, en de gals, dey want um ter stay, but bofe er dem ar creeturs 'uz mighty fear'd er gittin' der foots wet, en atter w'ile dey put out.
"W'iles dey 'uz gwine down de big road, jawin' at one er 'n'er, Brer Fox, he tuck'n stop right quick, en 'low:
"'Run yer, Brer Rabbit! run yer! Ef my eye aint 'ceive me yer de signs whar Mr. Dog bin 'long, en mo'n dat dey er right fresh.'
"Brer Rabbit, he sidle up en look. Den he 'low:
"'Dat ar track aint never fit Mr. Dog foot in de roun' worl'. W'at make it mo' bindin',' sezee, 'I done gone en bin 'quainted wid de man w'at make dat track, too long 'go ter talk 'bout,' sezee.
"'Brer Rabbit, please, sir, tell me he name.'
"Brer Rabbit, he laugh lak he makin' light er sump'n' 'n'er.
"'Ef I aint make no mistakes, Brer Fox, de po' creetur w'at make dat track is Cousin Wildcat; no mo' en no less.'