he ax Brer Fox how de name er goodness come he hongry w'en ole Mr.
Benjermun Ram layin' up dar in de house des a-rollin' in fat.

"Den Brer Fox tuck'n 'low, he did, dat he done bin in de habits er
eatin' Mr. Benjermun Ram chillun, but he sorter fear'd er de ole
creetur 'kaze he look so bad on de 'count er he red eye en he wrinkly
hawn.

"Brer Wolf des holler en laugh, en den he 'low:

"'Lordy, Brer Fox! I dunner w'at kinder man is you, nohow! W'y, dat ar
ole creetur aint never hurted a flea in all he born days--dat he
aint,' sezee.

"Brer Fox, he look at Brer Wolf right hard, he did, en den he up'n
'low:

"'Heyo, Brer Wolf! manys de time dat you bin hongry 'roun' in deze
diggin's en I aint year talk er you makin' a meal off'n Mr. Benjermun
Ram,' sezee.

"Brer Fox talk so close ter de fatal trufe, dat Brer Wolf got tooken wid
de dry grins, yit he up'n 'spon', sezee:

"'I des lak ter know who in de name er goodness wanter eat tough creetur
lak dat ole Mr. Benjermun Ram--dat w'at I lak ter know,' sezee.

"Brer Fox, he holler en laugh, he did, en den he up'n say:

"'Ah-yi, Brer Wolf! You ax me w'at I goes hongry fer, w'en ole Mr.
Benjermun Ram up dar in he house, yit you done bin hongry manys en manys
de time, en still ole Mr. Benjermun Ram up dar in he house. Now, den,
how you gwine do in a case lak dat?' sez Brer Fox, sezee.

"Brer Wolf, he strak de een' er he cane down 'pun de groun', en he say,
sezee:

"'I done say all I got ter say, en w'at I say, dat I'll stick ter. Dat
ole creetur lots too tough.'

"Hongry ez he is, Brer Fox laugh way down in he stomach. Atter w'ile he
'low:

"'Well, den, Brer Wolf, stidder 'sputin' 'longer you, I'm gwine do w'at
you say; I'm gwine ter go up dar en git a bait er ole Mr. Benjermun Ram,
en I wish you be so good ez ter go 'long wid me fer comp'ny,' sezee.

"Brer Wolf jaw sorter fall w'en he year dis, en he 'low:

"'Eh-eh, Brer Fox! I druther go by my own--'lone se'f,' sezee.

"'Well, den,' sez Brer Fox, sezee, 'you better make 'as'e,' sezee,
''kaze 't aint gwine ter take me so mighty long fer ter go up dar en
make hash out'n ole Mr. Benjermun Ram,' sezee.

"Brer Wolf know mighty well," said Uncle Remus, snapping his huge tongs
in order to silence a persistent cricket in the chimney, "dat ef he dast
ter back out fum a banter lak dat he never is ter year de las' un it fum
Miss Meadows en Miss Motts en de gals, en he march off todes Mr.
Benjermun Ram house.

"Littl