better don't eat
too much now, else you'll get scoffed 'fore you know it. You better to
get t'in like me an' den you'll live longer. I's yust a-gun' to pick
berries till de sweat run, den Ou' Mensefreiter ain't a-gun' to was'e
time eatin' me, I'll keep dat t'in.'

"`A' right I'll tink on,' ses Ou' Jackalse, but he ain't no more'n see
de berries in de sun dan he wink to his nose end. `I's fat,' ses he to
hisse'f. `I's fat, an' I's a-goin' to keep fat Ou' Mensefreiter ain't
a-eat me yet, and he ha'n't better hold his breat' till he does, needer,
else he's likely to get black in de face 'fore he finis'.'

"Next he tas'e one berry, an' ahter dat he yust about put one berry in
his basket and forty-one in his mout', till the yuice run all down his
chest, an' he feel dat good he yust cahnt he'p it but he fair stan' on
his head wid fun like a wildebeeste.

"Well, it come along to time to get back to de kraal, an' yust when Ou'
Wolf was fair a-workin' an' a-snatchin' at de berries to fill his
basket, Ou' Jackalse he sort o' sa'nter past de basket behind him an'
swop his own for it, yust so slim an' so quick dat Ou' Wolf never dream
on it. On'y when dey start fo' de kraal, he say. `Dese yere berries is
mighty light, considerin' what a lot I picked an' all,' an' he mop his
fore'ead as if he's glad dat yob's done.

"Dis went on de same every day; Ou' Wolf bringin' yust a han'ful home,
an' Ou' Jackalse a fat basket, till one day Ou' Mensefreiter he wink at
Ou' Jackalse. `You is a bit slim, ain't you, bringin' all your berries
home an' eatin' none, so's you won't get no fatter, huh? But dis is
where _I_ comes in. I yust drops you inside dis hock,' ses he, droppin'
him in an empty place like a pigsty, `an' I fat you up wid seven days'
feed o' pun'kin like a little pig. Den we'll see if you don't make de
finest kind o' dinner,' ses he. `An' you, Ou' Wolf,' ses he, `you's de
all right sort. Yust you keep on in de berries, eatin plenty like you
bin a doin', an' den one o' dese days you'll be nice an' fat too.'

"Ou' Wolf he take his basket at dat an' off out to de bessie berries
agen, an' he won'er a bit; an' Ou' Jackalse he stop in de hock an' he
kind o' begin to won'er too. Dere's two or t'ree pun'kins, de finest
kind o' pampoene, in de hock wid him--dat's his scoff fo' de day, an' if
he don't eat 'em all up 'fore night, den he's yust agun' to ketch it.

"Well, Ou' Jackalse he look at dem pampoene an' he kind o' feel