"Dey pass de time er day, en den dey went joggin' 'long de road same lak dey 'uz gwine 'pun a journey. Brer Rabbit he keep on snuffin' de a'r. Mr. Man up'n ax 'im is he got a bad cole, en Brer Rabbit 'spon' dat he smell sump'n' w'ich it don't smell like ripe peaches. Bimeby, Brer Rabbit 'gun to hoi' he nose, he did, en atter w'ile he sing out:—
"'Gracious en de goodness, Mr. Man! hit's dat meat er yone. Phew! Whar'bouts is you pick up dat meat at?'
"Dis make Mr. Man feel sorter 'shame' hisse'f, en ter make marters wuss, yer come a great big green fly a-zoonin' 'roun'. Brer Rabbit he git way off on t'er side er de road, en he keep on hol'in' he nose. Mr. Man, he look sorter sheepish, he did, en dey ain't gone fur 'fo' he put de meat down on de side er de road, en he tuck'n ax Brer Rabbit w'at dey gwine do 'bout it. Brer Rabbit he 'low, he did:—
"'I year tell in my time dat ef you take'n drag a piece er meat thoo' de dus' hit'll fetch back hits freshness. I ain't no superspicious man myse'f,' sezee, 'en I ain't got no 'speunce wid no sech doin's, but dem w'at tell me say dey done try it. Yit I knows dis,' says Brer Rabbit, sezee,—'I knows dat 't ain't gwine do no harm, 'kaze de grit w'at gits on de meat kin be wash off,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
"'I ain't got no string,' sez Mr. Man, sezee.
"Brer Rabbit laff hearty, but still he hol' he nose.
"'Time you bin in de bushes long ez I is, you won't miss strings,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
"Wid dat Brer Rabbit lipt out, en he ain't gone long 'fo' he come hoppin' back wid a whole passel er bamboo vines all tied tergedder. Mr. Man, he 'low:—
"'Dat line mighty long.'
"Brer Rabbit he 'low:—