Page:The International Folk-Lore Congress of the World's Columbian Exposition, Chicago, July, 1893.djvu/384

318 dey's fallin' weddeh a-comin,' an' dat's mighty bad, ez dis hyeah niggeh know by de twis' in de marrer ob he own bone wut smell de rain w'en he nose kyarn't. Wy, des las' week sez I ter Mandy sez I, 'Mandy, borry de loan ob my ole yoller ombrell, my chile, kase hit's gwinter rain.' I knowed hit, dough de sky wuz cl'ar, kase my cunjered laig buhn lak er red-hot trace-chain wuz run thu hit—dat laig dat wuz' cunjered 'fo' I larnt how by er lil niggeh dat up an' died 'thout tellin' wut de trick wuz so's I c'd tek hit off."

"I thought, uncle, this was to be a fish-hawk story.

"So 'tis! so' tis! ef e'er I gits de charnce ter tell de tale, but how dat gwine be, ef yo' grabs de wuhd right outen my mouf, arnser me dat, now? Shuh! Shucks! ez I wuz des a-sayin' w'en yo' flustrate me so, one day w'en de win' wuz in de east an' de rain wuz drap sorter drizzle-drozzle an' den quit, dat shin huht so mighty bad dat de Ole Boy' low dat 'e kyarn't ten, ter bizniz nohow.' E riz up, 'e did an' den 'e grunt an' set down 'gin, an' throw hisse'f back an' look 'cross de lake de w'ich 'e wuz asettin' on de aige ob. Den 'e lif up de laig sorter easy an' 'e rub hit some sorter serf an' den 'e e—e—ease hit down offen de well one, an' 'e projec' how 'e gwine ter cross dat lake. Troof tell, dey wuz er m-ighty likely witch-gyurl on turr side de watteh an' he got er wuhd dat 'e hone ter say in huh yeah. In co'se, 'e could a-cunjered huh 'cross de watteh unter 'im, but dat won't do tall, kase 'e ole ooman am mighty onreasonable 'bout de gyurls.

"Well den! 'e set an' study an' study, an' 'e rub 'e laig some mo' an' cuss, but dat don' he'p out none. 'E hone mighty hahd foh de sight o' dat gurl, but 'e ain't hone hahd 'nuff ter hanker arter kickin' out dat lame shin twell 'e swim 'cross dat ice-cole watteh.

"Den 'e see er big fish-hawk a-sailin' eroun' an' a-peekin' in de watteh, an' 'e ax 'im howdy.

"'Howdy yo'se'f,' say Fish-Hawk, mighty s'prise.

"'Po'ly, my fr'en', po'ly. Ise hed er tech o' de rheumatiz all dis winteh an' spring.'

"'I spoge hit sech er light tech dat yo' ain't tuck de trouble ter cunjer hit off.'

"'Nuh,' say de Ole Boy, a-rollin' er blade o' grass in he