b one gun two
tam.[74] Let da Pa'tridge fly, B'er Lion; but wun da Buckra Man come you
bes' keep in de shady side. I tell you dis, B'er Lion.'

"Da Lion, 'e stan' um down 'e no skeer da Buckra Man, en bimeby 'e say
goo'-bye; 'e say 'e gwan look fer da Buckra Man fer true.

"So long tam, B'er Rabbit is bin yeddy one big fuss in da timber; 'e
yeddy da Lion v'ice. B'er Rabbit foller da fuss tel 'e is bin come 'pon
da Lion wey 'e layin' 'pon da groun'. Da Lion, 'e is moan; 'e is groan;
'e is cry. 'E hab hole in 'e head, one, two, t'ree hole in 'e side; 'e
holler, 'e groan. B'er Rabbit, 'e ahx um howdy. 'E say:--

"'Ki, B'er Lion, wey you hab fine so much trouble?'

"Da Lion, 'e moan, 'e groan, 'e cry; 'e say:--

"'Ow, ma Lord! I hab one hole in me head, one, two, t'ree hole in me
side, me leg bin bruk!'

"B'er Rabbit bin hol' 'e head 'pon one side; 'e look skeer. 'E say:--

"'Ki, B'er Lion! I no know da Pa'tridge is so bahd lak dat. I t'ink 'e
fly 'way un no hu't-a you. Shuh-shuh! wun I see dem Pa'tridge I mus' git
'pon turrer side fer keep me hide whole.'

"Da Lion, 'e groan, 'e moan, 'e cry. B'er Rabbit, 'e say:--

"'Da Pa'tridge, 'e berry bahd; 'e mus' bin borry da Buckra Man gun.'

"Da Lion, 'e groan, 'e cry:--

"''E no da Pa'tridge no'n 'tall. Da Buckra Man is bin stan' way off un
shoot-a me wit' 'e gun. Ow, ma Lord!'

"B'er Rabbit, 'e h'ist 'e han'; 'e say:--

"'Wut I bin tell-a you, B'er Lion? Wut I bin tell you 'bout da Buckra
Man? Da Pa'tridge no hu't-a you lak dis. 'E mek-a da big fuss, but 'e no
hu't-a you lak dis. Da Buckra Man, 'e no mek no fuss 'cep' 'e p'int 'e
gun at you--_bang!_'"

"And what then?" the little boy asked, as Daddy Jack collapsed in his
seat, seemingly forgetful of all his surroundings.

"No'n 't all," replied the old African, somewhat curtly.

"De p'ints er dat tale, honey," said Uncle Remus, covering the
brusqueness of Daddy Jack with his own amiability, "is des 'bout lak
dis, dat dey ain't no use er dodgin' w'iles dey's a big fuss gwine on,
but you better take'n hide out w'en dey ain't no racket; mo' speshually
w'en you see Miss Sally lookin' behine de lookin'-glass fer dat ar
peach-lim' w'at she tuck'n make me kyar up dar day 'fo' yistiddy; yit
w'en she fine it don't you git too skeer'd, 'kaze I tuck'n make some
weak places in dat ar switch, en Miss Sally won't mo'n strak you wid it
'fo' hit'll all come onjinted."

Parts of this moral the little boy understood thoroughl