“Didn’t hab no matches den, honey, an’ folkes hatter tote coals kivered wid ashes, fur miles an’ miles, if dey let de fire go out.”
“’Count of the hoof foot,” repeated Margie, coming back to the story.
“’Count er de hoof foot,” said Mammy, “so de debil castes ’roun’ who he gwine git fur ter steal hit fur him.
“Fust he went ter de b’ar, an’ stan’ er long way off, ’case anybody kin beat de debil when his fire done out, an’ he say: ’Please, Mister B’ar, won’t yo’ fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?’ But de b’ar he growl, ’My hair’s too thick, an’ de fire’s too hot, an’ de road’s too long, an’ I ’feared I git het up, an’ die.’
“Kimmin’ back, he meet wid de rabbit, wid his mouf full er green, an’ de debil he say: ’Hello, Mister Rabbit! won’t yo’ fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?’ De rabbit he look meek an’ sad, an’ he ’low, ’I sorry, Mister Debil, but my baby chile’s done got er awful cramp, an’ I gwine fur ter mek him some catnip tea. Good-day, Mister Debil!’ an’ he lope right on, an’ de debil mek er mark whar de rabbit cross his path, an’ spit in hit.
“Den he kim an’ knock at de tarrypin’s door, but de tarrypin don’t put more’n his nose outside, an’ de debil he ’low, ’Please Mister Tarrypin, won’t yo’ fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?’
“De tarrypin he draw in his door er little more, an’ ’low, ’Yo’ knows I’d ’bleege yo’, Mister Debil, but I goes so slow ’count er de mis’ry in de heart, dat de spark ’ud be out ’fore I could fetch hit! Good-day, Mister Debil!’
“De debil he ’low he must git dat fire somers, ’case dey was er needin’ uv hit down dar, an’ he ’pear ter meet up wid de fox, unbeknownst, an’ he ’low ter be mighty cute, an’ he say, ’Good-evenin’, Mister Fox!’ an’ walk ’long side er him, lack dey was thick es peas in er pod, but Mister Fox he keep er poppin’ uv his tail. Bimeby, Mister Debil he ’low, ’I got two fine segars in my ves’ pocket—tek er smoke, Mister Fox?’
“But de fox he see de debil ain’ got no light, an’ he ’low, ’I sorry ter lose such good comp’ny es yo’ is, but I gwine tek tea wid Misser Dominick Rooster. Good-evenin’, Mister Debil!’
“So de debil he were hard up now, ’case dey keep er hollerin’ fur fire down dar, so he ups an’ goes ter de ole blue jay; de jay don’ eben tek he head fum unner his wing. ’Go ’way, an’ lemme ’lone,’ say de jay—’I done been totin’ wood fur yo’ all dis Friday long, an’ I’se tired an’ I’se sleepy,’ say de jay.