"He wurk makin' uth'r fokes do his wurk fur 'im, dat's how he wurk. His ole 'ooman an' de chillun keep de sto', an' Unk Toad Frog try ter wurk de farm fur 'im, but Mist'r Rattlesnake done eat up so miny er de Toad Frog fambly dat Unk Toad ain' got nuf han's lef' ter make er crap. He tell Mist'r Rattlesnake ef he doan git sumbody ter hope him, he ain' gwine have no corn, so Mist'r Rattlesnake take out down de big road huntin' fur farm han's, he do. He come ter er passel er Hop'r Grasses settin' down on de side de road doin' nuthin', an' he tell 'em ef dey come an' hope him raise er crap er corn, he'll give 'em ha'f de crap. Well, suh, dem Hop'r Grasses plow an' hoe, an' weed, an' pick bugs off an'--" "Mammy, don't call them 'hopper grasses,' Mary Van says you must say 'Grass-hoppers.'" "In de name er de Lawd, whut do Ma'y Van know 'bout varmints an' beastes?" "My papa says you must call them Grass-hoppers," protested Mary Van. "I doan speck Mist'r Hop'r Grass menshun ter yo' pa dat Hop'r wus jes' er nickname, did he?" The little girl was obliged to acknowledge that no such communication had taken place. "Den he ain' got no 'pin'ons ter scat'r on de subjec'--Hop'r Grass say he wush ter de Lawd fokes'd stop nam'n' him hine part b'fo', ennyhow. He say he plum ti'ed white fokes med'lin' in his 'far's--" "Mammy, go on about Mister Rattlesnake," Willis began to fidget. "Set still den, lemme see whar 'bouts I wus at--" "The Hopper Grasses were working in the field," Mary Van prompted. "Dat's de trufe, dat's jes' whar dem po' things wus at. Lawdee, how dem varmints jes' nachelly wurk derse'fs mouty nigh ter death. Bimeby, de corn 'gun ter tos'l an' git ripe, an' Mist'r Rattlesnake see de harves' ain' fur off, an' he know he bleeg'd ter 'vide dat corn wid dem Hop'r Grasses. He lay out on de creek bank an' study how he gwine ter cheat 'em. One day de Hop'r Grasses wus er settin' down in de shade er de corn jes' waitin' fur Mist'r Rattlesnake ter give de wurd ter go ter cuttin', whin Mist'r Rattlesnake crope up ter de back er de fiel' an' clim' on top er de fence an' give er crack er his tail so loud dat de po' Hop'r Grasses scat'r all ov'r de country ev'y which er way. Dey wus so skeer'd, hit take 'em er long time fo' dey darsen't ter come back ter see whut 'twus skeer'd 'em. By dat time, Mist'r Rattlesnake had done trench hisse'f on dis side de law. Yas, suh, he tak'n his seat 'pon top er dat gate, an' 'fuse ter let er one on 'em come in de fiel'. He tell 'em dey done flew'd off an' lef' him 'fo' harves' time, an' dee done broke der corntrack, an' no law ain' gwine hole him ter his'n, an' dey mout jes' es well ter g'long off an' git ernuth'r job." "Didn't the Hopper Grasses fight him?" Willis' fists closed at the thought. "Fight? Whut chanct wud dey had 'ginst dat low down Rattlesnake?" lifting Mary Van from her apron and trying to pull herself up by the bushes. "Dey done whut ev'ybody does dat runs up 'ginst snake law--dey got swindl'd."