"Mexicans, Uncle Remus."
"Tooby sho', honey; let it go at dat. But don't less pester ole Brer Tarrypin wid it, 'kaze he done b'long ter a tribe all by he own-'lone se'f.—I 'clar' ter gracious," exclaimed the old man after a pause, "ef hit don't seem periently lak 't wuz yistiddy!"
"What, Uncle Remus?"
"Oh, des ole Brer Tarrypin, honey; des ole Brer Tarrypin en a tale w'at I year 'bout 'im, how he done tuck'n do Brer Fox."
"Did he scare him, Uncle Remus?" the little boy asked, as the old man paused.
"No, my goodness! Wuss'n dat!"
"Did he hurt him?"
"No, my goodness! Wuss'n dat!"
"Did he kill him?"
"No, my goodness! Lots wuss'n dat!"