“Old lady Inch Wurm git up an’ g’long down town, an’ start ter spindin’ dat money right den. Soon es she done out’n de way, Grab-All tell Inch Wurm ’bout de cid’r in de pan b’hime de ash-hopp’r; an’, sez he, ‘we’ll make de Hawnits an’ Yall’r Jackits fight derse’fs ter death, den me an’ you’ll ’vide de cid’r, dat is ef you kin mea’jer off how much dey is in de pan ’thout lettin’ fokes know whut you doin’.’

“Yer see Grab-All sich er big biznes’ man dat he bleege ter know how big de pan is, an’ how much’s in dar, down ter de ve’y drap. So Inch Wurm he put on his ole close an’ went er crawlin’ off ter mea’jer de cid’r, an’ ’tain’ long ’fo’ hyah he come back ergin wid de news fur Grab-All. Grab-All tell ’im: ‘You done wurk fine, an’ you done wurk quick,—in fack,’ sez he, ‘you done yo’ wurk s’ good I gwine fix yer, so you doan hatt’r do no mo’ wurk long es you live.’ Den he laf in his sleeve.

“Mammy, don’t let Grab-All hurt Inch Wurm,” begged Mary Van.

“Dat can’t be hop’d, honey, Inch Wurm know too much ’bout Grab-All’s biznes’, an’ Grab-All got ter shet his mouf some way,—He take an’ spin er teenchy-weenchy lit’le web, right whar Inch Wurm got ter git out at. Inch Wurm, he start off, feelin’ pow’ful fine he do, an’ ’fo’ yer knows hit, dar he wus all tangle up in Grab-All’s web. Grab-All, he run ’roun’ like he tryin’ ter hope ’im out, but he jes’ spinnin’ de web tight’r so Inch Wurm nuv’r is ter git out no mo’.—He got ter starve ter death, ’caze he’s in Grab-All’s way, an’ Grab-All gwine see nobody doan come ’roun’ dar ter hope ’im neeth’r. ’Cose he doan mine Miss Lightnin’ Bug passin’ de time er night wid him, ’caze she can’ do nuthin’ mo’en ter bright’n ’im up er lit’le,—but he keep his eye on her, too.

“Nex’ day, de fight commence! Suh, I tell yer hit wus de pepperes’ fight yer ev’r seed. Dem Hawnits fly inter dem Yall’r Jackits, tell yer can’t see de groun’ fur de dead Jackits; but hyah come de Jackits back at de Hawnits! Lawdee! dey come wid der foots, an’ der han’s, an’ der haids all tergeth’r.—Yas, suh, dey come er buttin’ an’ er bitin’ an’ er stingin’ mouty nigh at de same time! Yas, my Lawd, de dead Jackits wus kiv’r’d up wid de dead Hawnits! Oh! I tell yer dem varmints fit like sho’ nuf war times!

“Whin bofe sides ’ud stop ter sorter blow er lit’le, an’ think mebbe dey kin confab de res’ er de fight out,—ole Grab-All’d come fus’ ter de Hawnits, an’ den ter de Jackits, an’ tell ’em dey boun’ ter whup out de nex’ jump. Whin he see de Hawnits gittin’ de wus er de charge, he run tell ’em wharbouts ter hit de Jackits. Whin he see too minny er de Jackits gittin’ kilt, he run tell dem wharbouts ter cripple de Hawnits. He keep on gwine fus’ ter one, den ter de uth’r twell dey wusn’t er han’ full lef’ on bofe sides.”

“Why didn’t they turn in and beat old Mister Grab-All?” Willis bristled.

“’Caze bofe uv ’em think Grab-All wus on der side. Grab-All ain’ lef’ no tracks ter pint out whar he bin—nor, suh, he so full er dat spid’r web biznes’ er his’n dat he kin swing hisse’f fum ennywhar,—an’ fo’ yer kin kitch ’im, he done swing ’roun’ in ernuth’r place onti’ly.”

“Captain Yellow Jacket’s side beat the fight, didn’t they, Mammy?” Mary Van desired the hornets vanquished.

“No, they didn’t,” contradicted Willis, “a hornet can beat a Yellow Jacket every time!”