“The rabbit rode the Fox to Miss Meadows’s and hitched him to the horse-rack,” said the little boy.
“Why co’se he did,” said Uncle Remus. “Co’se he did. Well, Brer Rabbit rid Brer Fox up, he did, en tied ’im to de rack, en den sot out in the peazzer wid de gals a smokin’ er his seegyar wid mo’ proudness dan w’at you mos’ ever see. Dey talk, en dey sing, en dey play on de peanner, de gals did, twel bimeby hit come time for Brer Rabbit fer to be gwine, en he tell um all good-by, en strut out to de hoss-rack same’s ef he was de king er der patter-rollers, en den he mount Brer Fox en ride off.
“Brer Fox ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ ’tall. He des rack off, he did, en keep his mouf shet, en Brer Rabbit know’d der wuz bizness cookin’ up fer him, en he feel monstous skittish. Brer Fox amble on twel he git in de long lane, outer sight er Miss Meadows’s house, en den he tu’n loose, he did. He rip en he r’ar, en he cuss en he swar; he snort en he cavort.”
“What was he doing that for. Uncle Remus?” the little boy inquired.
“He wuz tryin’ fer ter fling Brer Rabbit off’n his back, bless yo’ soul! But he des might ez well er rastle wid his own shadder. Every time he hump hisse’f Brer Rabbit slap de spurrers in ’im, en dar dey had it up en down. Brer Fox fa’rly to’ up de groun’, he did, en he jump so high en he jump so quick, dat he mighty nigh snatch his own tail off. Dey kep’ on gwine on dis way twel bimeby Brer Fox lay down en roll over, he did, en dis sorter unsettle Brer Rabbit, but by de time Brer Fox got en his footses agin, Brer Rabbit wuz gwine thoo de underbresh mo’ samer dan a race hoss. Brer Fox, he lit out atter ’im, he did, en he push Brer Rabbit so close, dat it wuz ’bout all he could do fer ter git in a holler tree. Hole too little fer Brer Fox fer to git in, en he hatter lay down en res’ en gadder his mine tergedder.
“While he wuz layin’ dar, Mr. Buzzard come floppin long, en seein’ Brer Fox stretch out on the groun’, he lit en view the premusses. Den Mr. Buzzard sorter shake his wing, en put his head on one side, en say to hisse’f like, sezee:
“‘Brer Fox dead, en I so sorry,’ sezee.
“‘No I ain’t dead, nudder,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee. ‘I got ole man Rabbit pent up in yer,’ sezee, ’en I’m gwineter git ’im dis time, ef it take twel Chris’mus,’ sezee.
“Den, atter some mo’ palaver, Brer Fox make a bargain dat Mr. Buzzard wuz ter watch de hole, en keep Brer Rabbit dar wiles Brer Fox went atter his axe. Den Brer Fox, he lope off, he did, en Mr. Buzzard, he tuck up his stan’ at de hole. Bimeby, w’en all get still, Brer Rabbit sorter scramble down close ter de hole, he did, en holler out:
“‘Brer Fox! Oh! Brer Fox!’