"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' en it blow up in de top er de timber, en 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, en, Man—Sir![72] w'en dat creetur run'd he run'd, now you year w'at I tell yer! He broke en run, he did, en 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! Wat 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?'
"'Lay down, Mr. Lion, lay down! Git close ter de groun'!'
"Mr. Lion shake his head. He 'low:—
"'Ef win' lierbul fer ter pick up little man like you is, Brer Rabbit, w'at it gwine do wid big man like me?'
"'Hug a tree, Mr. Lion, hug a tree!'