Sherry’s coon dog, Zip, had a faithful nose, and when Sherry and Breeze took him out at night they seldom came home without coons, or ’possums, enough to satisfy both Big Sue and Zeda.
They came in earlier than usual one night with nine ’possums and found April sitting by the fire with Big Sue. Breeze saw Sherry’s frown and the two men hardly spoke to each other, until April eyed the ’possums with a sneering smile and said:
“Yunnuh’s got a lot o’ ’possums to-night. I heared Jake’s calf got in a bog. E must ’a’ died.”
April poked the fire until sparks flew into the room.
“Wha’ you doin’, April? Is you crazy?” Big Sue cried sharply.
April spat contemptuously far back into the live embers. “I’d as soon eat a buzzard as one o’ dem ’possums!”
“How come?” Breeze, Big Sue, Sherry, all darted astonished looks at him.
“Dey’s full up wid carrion. A ’possum ain’ decent as a buzzard. Dey’s so coward-hearted, dey durstn’ come out in de daytime to eat. No. Dem sleek-tailed devils wait till night, den goes creepin’ to carcasses and stuffs on all what de buzzards scorns.”
“Shut you’ dirty mout’, April! I declare to Gawd, you’s a-turning my stomach! Torectly, I couldn’ eenjoy eatin’ dese possums at all!” Big Sue laid stress on every word.
“When did you git so awful delicate, Big Sue?” April asked with a grin.