"He dart down, he did," continued Uncle Remus, rubbing his hand thoughtfully across the top of his head, "but stidder he hittin' de chick'ns, he tuck'n hit 'pon de sharp een' un a fence-rail. He hit dar, he did, en dar he stuck."
"Ah-yi-ee!" exclaimed Daddy Jack.
"Dar he stuck. Brer Buzzard sot en watch 'im. Mr. Hawk ain't move. Brer Buzzard sot en watch 'im some mo'. Mr. Hawk ain't move. He done stone dead. De mo' Brer Buzzard watch 'im de mo' hongrier he git, en bimeby he gedder up he wings, en sorter clean out he year wid he claw, en 'low, sezee:—
"'I know'd de Lord 'uz gwineter pervide.'"
"Trufe too!" exclaimed Aunt Tempy. "'T ain't bin in my min' dat Buzzard got sense lak dat!"
"Dar's whar you missed it, Sis Tempy," said Uncle Remus gravely. "Brer Buzzard, he tuck'n drap down fum de dead lim', en he lit on Mr. Hawk, en had 'im fer brekkus. Hit's a mighty 'roun' about way fer ter git chick'n-pie, yit hit's lots better dan no way."
"I 'speck Hawk do tas'e like chicken," remarked 'Tildy.
"Dey mos' sho'ly does," said Uncle Remus, with emphasis.