his shoulder, en off he put fer de big flat rock. When he git dar
he lay Brer Bullfrog down on de rock, en Brer Bull-frog make like
he lookin' 'roun' fer his folks. Den Brer B'ar, he draw long
breff en pick up his axe. Den he spit in his han's en draw back
en come down on de rock--pow!"
"'Did he kill the Frog, Uncle Remus?" asked the little boy, as
the old man paused to scoop up a thimbleful of glowing embers in
his pipe.
"'Deed, en dat he didn't, honey. 'Twix' de time w'en Brer B'ar
raise up wid his axe en w'en he come down wid it, ole Brer
Bull-frog he lipt up en dove down in de mill-pon', kerblink-
kerblunk! En w'en he riz way out in de pon' he riz a singin', en
dish yer's de song w'at he sing:
"'Ingle-go-jang, my joy, my joy-
Ingle-go-jang, my joy!
I'm right at home, my joy, my joy-
Ingle-go-jang, my joy!'"
"That's a mighty funny song," said the little boy.
"Funny now, I speck," said the old man, "but 'tweren't funny in
dem days, en 'twouldn't be funny now ef folks know'd much 'bout
de Bull-frog langwidge ez dey useter. Dat's w'at."
XXV. HOW MR. RABBIT LOST HIS FINE BUSHY TAIL
"ONE time," said Uncle Remus, sighing heavily and settling
himself back in his seat with an air of melancholy resignation--
"one time Brer Rabbit wuz gwine 'long down de road shakin' his
big bushy tail, en feelin' des ez scrumpshus ez a bee-martin wid
a fresh bug." Here the old man paused and glanced at the little
boy, but it was evident that the youngster had become so
accustomed to the marvelous developments of Uncle Remus's
stories, that the extraordinary statement made no unusual
impression upon him. Therefore the old man began again, and this
time in a louder and more insinuating tone:
"One time ole man Rabbit, he wuz gwine 'long down de road
shakin' his long, bushy tail, en feelin' mighty biggity."
This was effective.
"Great goodness, Uncle Remus!" exclaimed the little boy in
open-eyed wonder, "everybody knows that rabbits haven't got long,
bushy tails."
The old man shifted his position in his chair and allowed his
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