er Fox look 'roun' en he see all de leafs done come off, en wid dat
he make a break, en he wa'n't none too soon, n'er, 'kaze little mo' en
de creeturs 'ud 'a' kotch 'im."

Without giving the little boy time to ask any questions, Uncle Remus
added another verse to his Rabbit song, and harped on it for several
minutes:--

"_O Mr. Rabbit! yo' year mighty long--
Yes, my Lord! dey made fer ter las';
O Mr. Rabbit! yo' toof mighty sharp--
Yes, my Lord! dey cuts down grass!_"

FOOTNOTES:

[83] Assuaged their thirst.

[84] Cupboard.

LXIX

BRER FOX'S FISH-TRAP

The little boy wanted Uncle Remus to sing some more; but before the old
man could either consent or refuse, the notes of a horn were heard in
the distance. Uncle Remus lifted his hand to command silence, and bent
his head in an attitude of attention.

"Des listen at dat!" he exclaimed, with some show of indignation. "Dat
ain't nothin' in de roun' worl' but ole man Plato wid dat tin hawn er
his'n, en I boun' you he's a-drivin' de six mule waggin, en de waggin
full er niggers fum de River place, en let 'lone dat, I boun' you deyer
niggers strung out behime de waggin fer mo'n a mile, en deyer all er
comin' yer fer ter eat us all out'n house en home, des 'kaze dey year
folks say Chris'mus mos' yer. Hit's mighty kuse unter me dat ole man
Plato ain't done toot dat hawn full er holes long 'fo' dis.

"Yit I ain't blamin' um," Uncle Remus went on, with a sigh, after a
little pause. "Dem ar niggers bin livin' 'way off dar on de River place
whar dey ain't no w'ite folks twel dey er done in about run'd wil'. I
ain't a-blamin' um, dat I ain't."

Plato's horn--a long tin bugle--was by no means unmusical. Its range was
limited, but in Plato's hands its few notes were both powerful and
sweet. Presently the wagon arrived, and for a few minutes all was
confusion, the negroes on the Home place running to greet the
new-comers, who were mostly their relatives. A stranger hearing the
shouts and outcries of these people would have been at a loss to account
for the commotion.

Even Uncle Remus went to his cabin door, and, with the little boy by his
side, looked out upon the scene,--a tumult lit up by torches of resinous
pine. The old man and the child were recognized, and for a few moments
the air was filled with cries of:--

"Howdy, Unk Remus! Howdy, little Marster!"

After a while Uncle Remus closed his door, laid away his tools, and
drew his