“That there track ain’t never fit Mr. Dog’s foot. What’s more,” says he, “I been acquainted with him what made that track too long ago to talk about.”
“Br’er Rabbit, please, sir, tell me his name.”
Br’er Rabbit he laughs, as if he was making light of something or other.
“If I makes no mistakes, Br’er Fox, the poor creature what made that track is Cousin Wildcat; no more and no less.”
“How big is he, Br’er Rabbit?”
“Just about your heft, Br’er Fox.” Then Br’er Rabbit make like talking to himself. “Tut, tut, tut! To be sure, to be sure! Many and many’s the times I see my old grand-daddy kick and cuff Cousin Wildcat. If you want some fun, Br’er Fox, now’s the time.”
Br’er Fox he up and axed how he’s going to have any fun.
Br’er Rabbit he say: “Easy enough. Just go and tackle old Cousin Wildcat, and lam him round.”
Br’er Fox he sorter scratch his ear, and say: “Eh, eh, Br’er Rabbit, I’m ’fraid. His track too much like Mr. Dog.”
Br’er Rabbit he sat flat down in the road, and holler, and laugh. “Shoo, Br’er Fox!” says he, “who’d ha’ thought you so skeery? Just come and look at these here tracks. Is there any sign of claw anywheres?”