“De tarrypin he draw in his door er little more, an’ ’low, ’Yo’ knows I’d ’bleege yo’, Mister Debil, but I goes so slow ’count er de mis’ry in de heart, dat de spark ’ud be out ’fore I could fetch hit! Good-day, Mister Debil!’ “De debil he ’low he must git dat fire somers, ’case dey was er needin’ uv hit down dar, an’ he ’pear ter meet up wid de fox, unbeknownst, an’ he ’low ter be mighty cute, an’ he say, ’Good-evenin’, Mister Fox!’ an’ walk ’long side er him, lack dey was thick es peas in er pod, but Mister Fox he keep er poppin’ uv his tail. Bimeby, Mister Debil he ’low, ’I got two fine segars in my ves’ pocket—tek er smoke, Mister Fox?’ “But de fox he see de debil ain’ got no light, an’ he ’low, ’I sorry ter lose such good comp’ny es yo’ is, but I gwine tek tea wid Misser Dominick Rooster. Good-evenin’, Mister Debil!’ “So de debil he were hard up now, ’case dey keep er hollerin’ fur fire down dar, so he ups an’ goes ter de ole blue jay; de jay don’ eben tek he head fum unner his wing. ’Go ’way, an’ lemme ’lone,’ say de jay—’I done been totin’ wood fur yo’ all dis Friday long, an’ I’se tired an’ I’se sleepy,’ say de jay. “‘Better kim down fum dar er I’ll roas’ yo!’ say de debil, gittin’ mad. “‘Hain’t got no fire,’ laugh de jay, an’ he go back ter sleep ergin. “Den de debil he go ter his nigger, de crow, an’ he ’low, ’Go git me er coal er fire dis minute, ’fore I w’ar yo des plum out!’ “De crow he git mighty sassy, ’case he know de debil cain’t do nuffin’ lessen he got er fire, an’ he say: ’I done toted corn fur yo’, Mister Debil, twel I’se got my wing des plum full er bird-shot; I cain’t fetch yo’ no fire!’ “Den de debil he ’low he ’bout ter gib hit up, twel he spy er worfless town nigger, er chawin’ an’ er spittin’ at er chip in de moon-shine, an’ de debil he know he ain’ got no call ter be keerful here, an’ he up an’ ’low, ’Say, boy! you want ter mek some money?’ “De town nigger plum keen, he don’ keer how he git de money, so he git hit, an’ de debil he say: ’Go git me er coal er fire—quick now—an’ I’ll gib yo’ er dollar!’ “Well, de town nigger he light out an’ ax two er three folks, but dey ain’ got no fire ter spar’, an’ he go ’long twel he kim ter er po’ widder ’oman, er blowin’ on one po’ little coal er fire ter mek er bed fur ter cook her hoe-cake, an’ de nigger he ’low—’Lady, I’se hongry!’ “An’ she say: ’I ’ain’t cook supper yit—wait er while, an’ I’ll gib yo’ er hoe-cake.’ Den de nigger he move up closter, an’ tell de ’oman how good she is, an’ he stretch out his han’s lack ter warm ’em, den all uv er suddent he retch an’ snatch dat coal, an’ go skootin’ wid hit ter de debil.” Mammy paused to lay the last piece in the basket, but the children were too eager to wait. “What did the devil do with him?” asked Fred. “Skootin’ to de devil,” repeated Margie.