"
"An' you speck ter retch dar safe an soun'? Whar's yo' ticket?"
"Ain't got none. De man say ez how dey'd pass us thoo. I gin a
man a fi'-dollar bill 'fo' I lef' Jonesboro, an' he sed dat
settled it."
"Lemme tell you dis," said Uncle Remus, straightening up
indignantly: "you go an' rob somebody an' git on de chain-gang,
an' let de 'oman scratch 'roun' yer an' make 'er livin'; but
don't you git on dem kyars--don't you do it. Yo' bes' holt is de
chain-gang. You kin make yo' livin' dar w'en you can't make it no
whars else. But don't you git on dem kyars. Ef you do, you er
gone nigger. Ef you ain't got no money fer ter walk back wid, you
better des b'il' yo' nes' right here. I'm a-talkin' wid de bark
on. I done seed deze yer Arkinsaw emmygrants come lopin' back,
an' some un 'em didn't have rags nuff on 'em fer ter hide dere
nakidness. You leave dat box right whar she is, an, let de 'oman
take wun young un an you take de udder wun, an' den you git in de
middle er de big road an' pull out fer de place whar you come
fum. I'm preachin' now."
Those who watched say the quartet didn't take the cars.
XII. AS A MURDERER
UNCLE Remus met a police officer recently.
"You ain't hear talk er no dead nigger nowhar dis mawnin', is
you, boss?" asked the old man earnestly.
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