when the little boy had grown tired of waiting for a story,
he looked at Uncle Remus and said:--

"I wonder what ever became of old Brother Tarrypin."

Uncle Remus gave a sudden start, glanced all around the cabin, and then
broke into a laugh that ended in a yell like a view-halloo.

"Well, well, well! How de name er goodness come you ter know w'at
runnin' on in my min', honey? Mon, you skeer'd me; you sho'ly did; en
w'en I git skeer'd I bleedz ter holler. Let 'lone dat, ef I keep on
gittin' skeerder en skeerder, you better gimme room, 'kaze ef I can't
git 'way fum dar somebody gwine ter git hurted, en deyer gwine ter git
hurted bad. I tell you dat right pine-blank.[47]

"Ole Brer Tarrypin!" continued Uncle Remus in a tone of exultation. "Ole
Brer Tarrypin! Now, who bin year tell er de beat er dat? Dar you sets
studyin' 'bout ole Brer Tarrypin, en yer I sets studyin' 'bout ole Brer
Tarrypin. Hit make me feel so kuse dat little mo' en I'd 'a' draw'd my
Rabbit-foot en shuck it at you."

The little boy was delighted when Uncle Remus went off into these
rhapsodies. However nonsensical they might seem to others, to the child
they were positively thrilling, and he listened with rapt attention,
scarcely daring to stir.

"Ole Brer Tarrypin? Well, well, well!--

"'_Wen in he prime
He tuck he time!_'

"Dat w'at make he hol' he age so good. Dey tells me dat somebody 'cross
dar in Jasper county tuck'n kotch a Tarrypin w'ich he got marks cut in
he back dat 'uz put dar 'fo' our folks went fer ter git revengeance in
de Moccasin war. Dar whar yo' Unk' Jeems bin," Uncle Remus explained,
noticing the little boy's look of astonishment.

"Oh!" exclaimed the child, "that was the Mexican war."

"Well," responded Uncle Remus, closing his eyes with a sigh, "I ain't
one er deze yer kinder folks w'at choke deyse'f wid names. One name
ain't got none de 'vantage er no yuther name. En ef de Tarrypin got de
marks on 'im, hit don't make no diffunce whe'er yo' Unk' Jeems
Abercrombie git his revengeance out'n de Moccasin folks, er whe'er he
got it out'n de Mackersons."

"Mexicans, Uncle Remus."

"Tooby sho', honey; let it go at dat. But don't less pester ole Brer
Tarrypin wid it, 'kaze he done b'long ter a tribe all by he own-'lone
se'f.--I 'clar' ter gracious," exclaimed the old man after a pause, "ef
hit don't seem periently lak 't wuz yistiddy!"

"What, Uncle Remus?"

"Oh, des ole Brer Tarrypin, honey; des ole Brer Tarrypin