"Whin bofe sides 'ud stop ter sorter blow er lit'le, an' think mebbe dey kin confab de res' er de fight out,--ole Grab-All'd come fus' ter de Hawnits, an' den ter de Jackits, an' tell 'em dey boun' ter whup out de nex' jump. Whin he see de Hawnits gittin' de wus er de charge, he run tell 'em wharbouts ter hit de Jackits. Whin he see too minny er de Jackits gittin' kilt, he run tell dem wharbouts ter cripple de Hawnits. He keep on gwine fus' ter one, den ter de uth'r twell dey wusn't er han' full lef' on bofe sides." "Why didn't they turn in and beat old Mister Grab-All?" Willis bristled. "'Caze bofe uv 'em think Grab-All wus on der side. Grab-All ain' lef' no tracks ter pint out whar he bin--nor, suh, he so full er dat spid'r web biznes' er his'n dat he kin swing hisse'f fum ennywhar,--an' fo' yer kin kitch 'im, he done swing 'roun' in ernuth'r place onti'ly." "Captain Yellow Jacket's side beat the fight, didn't they, Mammy?" Mary Van desired the hornets vanquished. "No, they didn't," contradicted Willis, "a hornet can beat a Yellow Jacket every time!" "Jes' hole on dar!" Phyllis steadied the hammock. "I'm de onlies' one dat seen who 'twas whup'd." "I want Captain Yellow Jacket's side to kill all of the hornets," whimpered Mary Van. "But they can't," persisted Willis vehemently. Once more Phyllis held the hammock. "You dunno nuthin' tall erbout hit, suh," as she saw the little girl about to cry, "Hawnits is got mo' pow'r en Jackits is got, but er Jackit is mo' smart'r en er Hawnit. I 'speck ef Grab-All had er helt his mouf out'n de fracus, de Jackits wud er outfit de Hawnits, but es hit wus, Grab-All keep 'em fightin' tell dem whut wusn't kilt wus hit so hard dat hit 'twan' long 'fo' de ve'y las' one uv 'em died. Atter dat hap'n Grab-All, he got de cid'r! "He spin erlong b'ildin' on some houses he fixin' ter rent tell bimeby Mist'r Blue Bot'le Fly an' his fambly come erlong. Mist'r Blue Bot'le whisper ter his chillun ter give Grab-All plenty er road. I tell yer Grab-All swing hisse'f down, he do, an' ax Mist'r Blue Bot'le whut ail his fambly dat dey look so po'ly. "Blue Bot'le say: 'I ain' nuv'r see sich er time in m' life! De rich fokes done stretch wire ov'r de vit'als s'tight dat dey ain' nuthin' fur de po' flies ter do 'cep'n ter starve.' "Grab-All say, 'Dat's de trufe, Brer Blue Bot'le, an' I feels s' sorry fur yer dat I'm gwine give you an' yo' fambly all de vit'als yer kin eat.' "Bot'le Fly so glad he gwine git sumthin' fur nuthin', dat he fergit ter 'member how raskilly Grab-All wus, an' whin he do 'member 'bout hit, he think he gwine keep his eye op'n an' git de fus' lick. He jes' nachelly can't let dat free vit'als git way fum 'im, doan keer how low down Grab-All wus. So him an' his fambly foll'r Grab-All ter de pan er cider, an' dey so hongry, dey fergits 'bout ev'ythin' 'cep'n eatin'. Grab-All set up on de ash-hopp'r an' mos' kill hisse'f laffin'." "Why, Mammy?"