ts is Mr. Man, en Mr. Jack Sparrer say he right 'cross dar in de
new groun', en he up'n ax Mr. Lion w'at he want wid 'im, w'ich Mr. Lion
'spon' dat he gwine larrup Mr. Man, en wid dat, Mr. Jack Sparrer, he
up'n say, sezee:

"'You better let Mr. Man 'lone. You see how little I is, en likewise how
high I kin fly; yit, 'spite er dat, Mr. Man, he kin fetch me down w'en
he git good en ready,' sezee. 'You better tuck yo' tail en put out
home,' sez Mr. Jack Sparrer, sezee, 'kaze bimeby Mr. Man 'll fetch you
down,' sezee.

"But Mr. Lion des vow he gwine atter Mr. Man, en go he would, en go he
did. He aint never see Mr. Man, Mr. Lion aint, en he dunner w'at he
look lak, but he go on todes de new groun'. Sho' 'nuff, dar wuz Mr. Man,
out dar maulin' rails fer ter make 'im a fence. He 'uz rippin' up de
butt cut, Mr. Man wuz, en he druv in his wedge en den he stuck in de
glut. He 'uz splittin' 'way, w'en bimeby he year rustlin' out dar in de
bushes, en he look up, en dar wuz Mr. Lion. Mr. Lion ax 'im do he know
Mr. Man, en Mr. Man 'low dat he know 'im mo' samer dan ef he wer' his
twin brer. Den Mr. Lion 'low dat he wanter see' im, en den Mr. Man say,
sezee, dat ef Mr. Lion will come stick his paw in de split fer ter hol'
de log open twel he git back, he go fetch Mr. Man. Mr. Lion he march up
en slap his paw in de place, en den Mr. Man, he tuck'n' knock de glut
out, en de split close up, en dar Mr. Lion wuz. Mr. Man, he stan' off en
say, sezee:

"'Ef you'd 'a' bin a steer er hoss, you mought er run'd, en ef you'd
'a' bin a sparrer, you mought er flew'd, but yer you is, en you kotch
yo'se'f,' sezee.

"Wid dat, Mr. Man sa'nter out in de bushes en cut 'im a hick'ry, en he
let in on Mr. Lion, en he frail en frail 'im twel frailin' un 'im wuz a
sin. En down ter dis day," continued Uncle Remus, in a tone calculated
to destroy all doubt, "you can't git no Lion ter come up whar dey 's a
Man a-maulin' rails en put he paw in de split. Dat you can't!"

VIII

THE STORY OF THE PIGS

Uncle Remus relapsed into silence again, and the little boy, with
nothing better to do, turned his attention to the bench upon which the
old man kept his shoemaker's tools. Prosecuting his investigations in
this direction, the youngster finally suggested that the supply of
bristles was about exhausted.

"I dunner w'at Miss Sally wanter be sendin' un you down yer fer, ef you
gwine ter be stirr'n' en bodderin' 'longer dem ar doin's," exclaimed
Uncle R