'Tain't bin proned inter no Brer B'ar fer ter kotch Brer Rabbit.
Hit sorter like settin' a mule fer ter trap a hummin'-bird. But
Brer B'ar, he tuck'n got hisse'f inter some mo' trubble, w'ich it
look like it mighty easy. Ef folks could make der livin' longer
gittin' inter trubble," continued the old man, looking curiously
at the little boy, "ole Miss Favers wouldn't be bodder'n yo' ma
fer ter borry a cup full er sugar eve'y now en den; en it look
like ter me dat I knows a nigger dat wouldn't be squattin' 'roun'
yer makin' dese yer fish-baskits."
"How did the Bear get into more trouble, Uncle Remus?" asked the
little boy.
"Natchul, honey. Brer B'ar, he tuck a notion dat ole Brer
Bull-frog wuz de man w'at fool 'im, en he say dat he'd come up
wid 'im ef 'twuz a year atterwuds. But 'twan't no year, an
'twan't no mont', en mo'n dat, hit wa'n't skasely a week, w'en
bimeby one day Brer B'ar wuz gwine home fum de takin' un a
bee-tree, en lo en behol's, who should he see but ole Brer
Bull-frog settin' out on de aidge er de mud-muddle fas' 'sleep!
Brer B'ar drap his axe, he did, en crope up, en retch out wid his
paw, en scoop ole Brer Bull-frog in des dis away." Here the old
man used his hand ladle-fashion, by way of illustration.
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