"I sorter sprained
my han', boss, but dog my cats if I don't bleeve I spattered de
nigger's eyeballs on de groun', and w'en he riz his count'nence
look fresh like beef-haslett. I look mighty spindlin' an' puny
now, don't I, boss?" inquired the old man, with great apparent
earnestness.
"Rather."
"Well, you des oughter see me git my Affikin up. Dey useter call
me er bad nigger long 'fo' de war, an hit looks like ter me dat I
gits wuss an' wuss. Brer John Henry say dat I oughter subdue my
rashfulness, an' I don't 'spute it, but tu'n a Mobile nigger
loose in dis town, fote er July or no fote er July, an', me er
him, one is got ter lan' in jail. Hit's proned inter me."
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, UNCLE REMUS ***
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