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stran' er ha'r tied tergedder in a hoss' mane, dar you see a witch-stirrup, en, mo'n dat, dat hoss done bin rid by um.”

"Do you reckon they have been riding Charley ? ” inquired the little boy.

“Co’se, honey. Tooby sho dey is. W'at else dey bin doin' ? ” Did

you ever see a witch, Uncle Remus ? " “Dat ain't needer yer ner dar.

W’en I see coon track in de branch, I know de coon bin ’long dar."

The argument seemed unanswerable, and the little boy asked, in a confidential tone :

Uncle Remus, what are witches like ? "

Dey comes diffunt,” responded the cautious old darkey. “Dey comes en dey cunjus fokes. Squinch-owl holler eve'y time he see a witch, en w’en you hear de dog howlin' in de middle er de night, one un um's mighty ap' ter be prowlin' 'roun'. Cunjun fokes kin tell a witch de minnit dey lays der eyes on it, but dem w'at ain't cunjun, hit's mighty hard ter tell w'en dey see one, kase dey might come in de 'pearunce un a cow en all kinder beas's.

I ain't bin useter no cunjun myse'f, but I bin livin' long nuff fer ter

place 'fo'

know w'en you meets up wid a big black cat in de middle er de road, wid yaller eyeballs, dar yo' witch fresh fum de Ole Boy. En, fuddermo', I know dat 'tain't proned inter no dogs fer ter ketch de rabbit w’at use in a berryin’-groun'. Dey er de mos' ongodlies' creeturs w'at you ever laid eyes on,” continued Uncle Remus, with unction. “Down dar in Putmon County yo' Uncle Jeems, he make like he gwineter ketch wunner dem dar graveyard rabbits. Sho nuff, out he goes, en de dogs aint no mo'n got ter de

up jump de ole rabbit right ’mong um, en atter runnin' 'roun' a time or two, she skip right up ter Mars Jeems, en Mars Jeems, he des put de gun-bairl right on 'er en lammed aloose. Hit tored up de groun' all 'roun', en de dogs, dey rush up, but dey wan't no rabbit dar : but bimeby Mars Jeems, he seed de dogs tuckin' der tails 'tween der legs, en he look up, en dar wuz de rabbit caperin' 'roun' on a toomstone, en wid dat Mars Jeems say he sorter feel like de time done come w'en yo gran'ma was 'specktin’un him home, en he call off de dogs en

But dem wuz ha'nts. Witches is deze yer kinder fokes wat kin drap der body

put out.

en change inter a cat en a wolf en all kinder creeturs.”

Papa says there ain't any witches," the little boy interrupted.

“Mars John ain't live long ez I is,” said Uncle Remus, by way of comment.

« He ain't bin broozin' 'roun' all hours er de night en day. I know'd a nigger w'ich his brer wuz a witch, kaze he up'n tole me how he tuck'n kyo'd ’im ; en he kyo'd 'im good, mon.” " How was that ?" inquired the little boy.

Hit seem like,” continued Uncle Remus, “dat witch fokes is got a slit in de back er de neck, en w'en dey wanter change derse'f, dey des pull de hide over der head same ez if 'twuz a shut, en dar dey is.”

“Do they get out of their skins ?” asked the little boy, in an awed tone.

Tooby sho, honey. You see yo pa pull his shut off? Well, dat des 'zackly de way dey duz. But dish yere nigger w'at I'm tellin' you 'bout, he kyo'd his brer de ve’y fus pass he made at him. Hit got so dat fokes in de settlement didn't have no peace.

De chilluns ’nd wake up in de mawnins wid der ha'r tangle up, en wid scratches on um like dey bin thoo a brier-patch, twel bimeby one day de nigger he 'low dat he'd set up dat night en keep one eye on his brer; en sho' nuff dat night, des ez de chickens wuz crowin' fer twelve, up jump de brer an pull off his skin en sail out'n de house in de shape un a bat, en w'at duz de nigger do but grabup de hide, en turn it wrongsud'-out'ards en sprinkle it wid salt. Den he lay down en watch fer ter see w'at de news wuz gwineter be. Des 'fo' day yer come a big black cat in de do', en de nigger git up, he did, en druv her away. Bimeby, yer come a big black dog snuffin' roun', en de nigger up wid a chunk en lammed 'im side er de head. Den a squinch-owl lit on de koam er de house, en de nigger jam de shovel in de fier en make 'im flew away. Las', yer come a great big black wolf wid his eyes shinin' like fier coals, en he grab de hide and rush out. 'Twa’n't long 'fo' de nigger year his brer holler'n en squallin', en he tuck a light, he did, en went out, en dar wuz his brer des a waller'n on de groun' en squirmin' 'roun', kaze de salt on de skin wuz stingin' wuss'n ef he had his britches lineded wid yaller-jackets. By nex'


mawnin' he got so he could sorter shuffle 'long, but he gun up cunjun, en ef dere wuz enny mo' witches in dat settlement dey kep' mighty close, en dat nigger he ain't skunt hisse'f no mo' not endurin'er my 'membunce."

The result of this was that Uncle Remus had to take the little boy by the hand and go with him to the “big house,” which the old man was not loath to do; and the child, when he went to bed, lay awake a long time expecting an unseemly visitation from some mysterious source. It soothed him, however, to hear the strong, musical voice of his sable patron, not very far away, tenderly contending with a lusty tune; and to that accompaniment the little boy dropped asleep.

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