' 'fo' she gits de wuds out'n 'er mouf, Brer Rabbit done grab de
money-pus en gone!"

"Which way did he go, Uncle Remus?" the little boy asked, after a while.

"Well, I tell you dis," Uncle Remus responded emphatically, "Brer Rabbit
road ain't lay by de spring; I boun' you dat!"

Presently 'Tildy put her head in the door to say that it was bedtime,
and shortly afterward the child was dreaming that Daddy Jack was
Mammy-Bammy Big-Money in disguise.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] Disease.

[28] If, as some ethnologists claim, the animal myths are relics of
zooetheism, there can scarcely be a doubt that the practice here
described by Uncle Remus is the survival of some sort of obeisance or
genuflexion by which the negroes recognized the presence of the Rabbit,
the great central figure and wonder-worker of African mythology.

[29] Never mind.

[30] Sometime, any time, no time. Thus: "Run fetch me de ax, en I'll
wait on you one er deze odd-come-shorts."

[31] Assurance.

XXXI

"IN SOME LADY'S GARDEN"

When the little boy next visited Uncle Remus the old man was engaged in
the somewhat tedious operation of making shoe-pegs. Daddy Jack was
assorting a bundle of sassafras roots, and Aunt Tempy was transforming
a meal-sack into shirts for some of the little negroes,--a piece of
economy of her own devising. Uncle Remus pretended not to see the child.

"Hit's des lak I tell you all," he remarked, as if renewing a
conversation; "I monst'us glad dey ain't no bad chilluns on dis place
fer ter be wadin' in de spring-branch, en flingin' mud on de yuther
little chilluns, w'ich de goodness knows dey er nasty nuff bidout dat. I
monst'us glad dey ain't none er dat kinder young uns 'roun' yer--I is
dat."

"Now, Uncle Remus," exclaimed the little boy, in an injured tone,
"somebody's been telling you something on me."

The old man appeared to be very much astonished.

"Heyo! whar you bin hidin', honey? Yer 't is mos' way atter supper en
you ain't in de bed yit. Well--well--well! Sit over ag'in in de chimbly
jam dar whar you kin dry dem shoes. En de ve'y nex' time w'at I see you
wadin' in dat branch, wid de sickly season comin' on, I'm a-gwine ter
take you 'cross my shoulder en kyar you ter Miss Sally, en ef dat ain't
do no good, den I'll kyar you ter Mars John, en ef dat ain't do no good,
den I'm done wid you, so dar now!"

The little boy sat silent a long time, listening to the casual talk of
Uncle Remus and his guests, an