Now, den, 'possum, speak out and tell me is
you 'libe or is you dead?'
"Dat are question frew de 'possum inter a pow'ful sweat. If he told de
truf an' said he was alibe he knowed well 'nuf dat de bar would gobble
him up quicker'n if he'd been a hot ash cake an' a bowl of buttermilk;
but if he said he was dead so's de bar wouldn't eat him, de bar, like
'nuf, would know he lied, an' would eat him all de same. So he turn de
matter ober an' ober in his min', an' he wrastled with his 'victions,
but he couldn't come ter no 'clusion. 'Now don't you tink,' said de bar,
'dat I's got time to sit here de whole mawnin' waitin' fer you ter make
up your mind whether you's dead or not. If you don't 'cide pretty quick,
I'll put a big rock a-top o' you, an' stop fer you answer when I come
back in de ebenin'.' Now dis gib de 'possum a pow'ful skeer, an' 'twas
cl'ar to his min' dat he mus' 'cide de question straight off. If he tole
de truf, and said he was alibe, he'd be eat up shuh; but if he said he
was dead, de bar mought b'lieve him. 'Twarn't very likely dat he would,
but dar was dat one leetle chance, an' he done took it. 'I is dead,'
says he. 'You's a long time makin' up your min' 'bout it,' says de bar.
'How long you been dead?' 'Sence day 'fore yestidday,' says the 'possum.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106