"Well, in de name er de Lord, don't come a-cunju'n wid me, 'kaze I'm des as peaceable ez de day's long," said Aunt Tempy.
Uncle Remus smiled and closed his eyes with an air of disdain, caught from his old Mistress, the little boy's grandmother, long since dead.
"Tell yo' tale, Sis Tempy," he said pleasantly, "en leave de talk er cunju'n ter de little nigger childun. We er done got too ole fer dat kinder foolishness."
This was for the ear of the little boy. In his heart Uncle Remus was convinced that Daddy Jack was capable of changing himself into the blackest of black cats, with swollen tail, arched back, fiery eyes, and protruding fangs. But the old man's attitude reassured Aunt Tempy, as well as the child, and forthwith she proceeded with her story:
"Hit seem like dat one time w'en Brer Rabbit fine hisse'f way off in de middle er de woods, de win' strike up un 'gun ter blow. Hit blow down on de groun' un it blow up in de top er de timber, un it blow so hard twel terreckerly Brer Rabbit tuck a notion dat he better git out fum dar 'fo' de timber 'gun ter fall.
"Brer Rabbit, he broke en run, un, Man—Sir![72] w'en dat creetur run'd he run'd, now you year w'at I tell yer! He broke un run, he did, un he fa'rly flew 'way fum dar. W'iles he gwine 'long full tilt, he run'd ag'in' ole Mr. Lion. Mr. Lion, he hail 'im:
"'Heyo, Brer Rabbit! W'at yo' hurry?'
"'Run, Mr. Lion, run! Dey's a harrycane comin' back dar in de timbers. You better run!'
"Dis make Mr. Lion sorter skeer'd. He 'low:
"'I mos' too heavy fer ter run fur, Brer Rabbit. W'at I gwine do?'