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The Gray Wolf's Ha'nt     179

I tried ter l'arn him de arrer er his ways en make him go ter chu'ch en pra'r-meetin'; but it wa'n't no use.  I dunno who killt 'im, en I doan wanter know, fer I'd be mos' sho'ter fin' out day my boy had sta'ted de fuss.  Ef I'd 'a' had a son lack you, Brer Dan, I'd 'a' be'n a proud nigger; oh, yas, I would, sho's you bawn.  But you ain' lookin' ez well ez you oughter, Brer Dan.  Dey's sump'n de matter wid you, en w'at's mo', I 'spec' you dunno w'at it is.'
"Now, dis yer kin' er talk nach'ly th'owed Dan off'n his gya'd, en fus' things he knowed he wuz talkin' ter dis ole cunjuh man des lack he wuz one er his bes' frien's.  He tol' 'im all 'bout not feelin well in de mawnin', en ax' 'im ef he could tell w'at wuz de matter wid 'im.
"'Yas,' sez de cunjuh man.  'Dey is a witch be'n ridin' you righ 'long.  I kin see de marks er de bridle on yo'