top, Tukkey he fly down an'
Tarr'pin he jes' natchully turn over an' roll down. But Tukkey git de
start an' keep hit. W'en Tarr'pin roll to de bottom uv a mountain den
he'd see Tukkey at de top er de nex' one. Dey kep' hit up dis-a-way
'cross fo' ridges, an' las' Tarr'pin he plumb wo' out an' he see he
wan't gwine ketch up at dat rate, so he gin up fer dat day. Den he go
an' hunt up de cunjerers an' ax 'em fer ter he'p him. He say, 'Y'all
know dat by'ud an' wattles er mine? Well, I done loan 'em to Mistah
Wi'yum Wil'-tukkey, 'kase he wuz my fren' an' he done ax me to. An' now
he turn out ter be no-kyount trash, an' w'at I gwine do? You bin knowin'
I is a slow man, an' if I kain't git some he'p, I hatter say good-by
by'ud an' wattles.'"

"What are 'cunjerers,' Aunt 'Phrony?" said Ned.

"Well now, honey," said she, "I dunno ez I kin jes' rightly tell you,
but deys w'at de Injuns calls 'medincin'-men,' an' dey doctors de sick
folks an' he'ps de hunters ter git game an' de gals ter git beaux, an'
putts spells on folks an' mek 'em do jes' 'bout w'at dey want 'em to.
An' so dese yer cunjerers dey goes off by derse'fs an' has a confab an'
den dey come back an' tell Mistah Tarr'pin dat dey reckon dey done fix
Mistah Tukkey dis time.

"'W'at you done wid him?' sezee.

"'We ain' ketch 'im,' dey ses, 'we lef' dat fer you, dat ain' ow'
bizness, but we done fix him up so't you kin do de ketchin' yo'se'f.'

"'W'at has you done to him, den?' sezee.

"'Son', dey ses, 'we done putt a lot er li'l bones in his laigs, an' dat
gwine slow him up might'ly, an' we 'pends on you ter do de res', 'kase
we knows dat you is a gre't chieft.'

"Den Tarr'pin amble long 'bout his bizness an' neener stop ner res'
ontwel he met up wid Tukkey onct mo'. He ax fer his by'ud an' wattles
ag'in, but Tukkey jes' turnt an' stept out f'um dat, Tarr'pin atter him.
But seem lak de cunjerers thought Mistah Tarr'pin wuz faster'n w'at he
wuz, er dat Mistah Tukkey 'z slower'n w'at _he_ wuz, 'kase Tarr'pin ain'
nuver ketch up wid him yit, an' w'ats mo', de tarr'pins is still doin'
widout by'uds an' wattles an' de gobblers is still wearin' 'em an'
swellin' roun' showin' off ter de gals, steppin' ez high ez ef dem li'l
bones w'at de cunjerers putt dar wan't still in der laigs, an' struttin'
lak dey wuz sayin' ter ev'y pusson dey meets:

_'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker,
You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'"_

THE CRITIC

BY WILLIAM J. LA