ce, en he up'n say, sezee:

"'You know dat ar place whar you went atter sweetgum fer Miss Meadows en
de gals t'er day?' sezee.

"Brer Fox 'low dat he know dat ar place same ez he do he own
tater-patch.

"'Well, den,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'de grapes aint dar. You git ter
de sweetgum,' sezee, 'en den you go up de branch twel you come ter a
little patch er bamboo brier--but de grapes aint dar. Den you follow
yo' lef' han' en strike 'cross de hill twel you come ter dat big red oak
root--but de grapes aint dar. On you goes down de hill twel you come
ter 'n'er branch, en on dat branch dars a dogwood-tree leanin' 'way
over, en nigh dat dogwood dars a vine, en in dat vine, dar you'll fine
yo' grapes. Deyer dat ripe,' sez ole Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'dat dey look
like deyer done melt tergedder, en I speck you'll fine um full er bugs,
but you kin take dat fine bushy tail er yone, Brer Fox,' sezee, 'en
bresh dem bugs away.'

"Brer Fox 'low he much 'blige, en den he put out atter de grapes in a
han'-gallop, en w'en he done got outer sight, en likewise outer year'n,
Brer Rabbit, he take'n git a blade er grass, he did, en tickle hisse'f
in de year, en den he holler en laff, en laff en holler, twel he hatter
lay down fer ter git he breff back 'gin.

"Den, atter so long time, Brer Rabbit he jump up, he do, en take atter
Brer Fox, but Brer Fox, he aint look ter de right ner de lef', en
needer do he look behime; he des keep a-rackin' 'long twel he come ter
de sweetgum-tree, en den he tu'n up de branch twel he come ter de bamboo
brier, en den he tu'n squar ter de lef' twel he come ter de big red-oak
root, en den he keep on down he hill twel he come ter de yuther branch,
en dar he see de dogwood; en mo'n dat, dar nigh de dogwood he see de
vine, en in dat vine dar wuz de big bunch er grapes. Sho' nuff, dey wuz
all kivvud wid bugs.

"Ole Brer Rabbit, he'd bin a-pushin' 'long atter Brer Fox, but he des
hatter scratch gravel fer ter keep up. Las' he hove in sight, en he lay
off in de weeds, he did, fer ter watch Brer Fox motions. Present'y Brer
Fox crope up de leanin' dogwood-tree twel he come nigh de grapes, en den
he sorter ballunce hisse'f on a lim' en gun um a swipe wid his big bushy
tail, fer ter bresh off de bugs. But, bless yo' soul, honey! no sooner
is he done dat dan he fetch a squall w'ich Miss Meadows vow atterwards
she year plum ter her house, en down he come--_kerblim_!"

"What was the matter, Uncle Remus?" the little boy a