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 Remus, indignantly. "Now don't you scatter dem hog-bristle! De
time wuz w'en folks had a mighty slim chance fer ter git bristle, en dey
ain't no tellin' w'en dat time gwine come ag'in. Let 'lone dat, de time
wuz w'en de breed er hogs wuz done run down ter one po' little pig, en
it look lak mighty sorry chance fer dem w'at was bleedzd ter have
bristle."

By this time Uncle Remus's indignation had vanished, disappearing as
suddenly and unexpectedly as it came. The little boy was curious to know
when and where and how the bristle famine occurred.

"I done tole you 'bout dat too long 'go ter talk 'bout," the old man
declared; but the little boy insisted that he had never heard about it
before, and he was so persistent that at last Uncle Remus, in
self-defence, consented to tell the story of the Pigs.

"One time, 'way back yander, de ole Sow en er chilluns wuz all livin'
'longer' de yuther creeturs. Hit seem lak ter me dat de ole Sow wuz a
widder 'oman, en ef I don't run inter no mistakes, hit look like ter me
dat she got five chilluns. Lemme see," continued Uncle Remus, with the
air of one determined to justify his memory by a reference to the
record, and enumerating with great deliberation,--"dar wuz Big Pig, en
dar wuz Little Pig, en dar wuz Speckle Pig, en dar wuz Blunt, en las' en
lonesomes' dar wuz Runt.

"One day, deze yer Pig ma she kno