“Well, I dunno,” said the old man, thoughtfully, scratching his head; “I dunno, dat mout be de way; I neber hyeard it, do; but den I ain’t sayin’ tain’t true, caze hit mout be de way; an’ wat I’m er stan’in’ by is dis, dat dat ain’t de way I hyeard hit.”

“Tell us how you heard it, Uncle Bob,” asked Diddie.

“Well, hit all come ‘long o’ de jay bird,” said Uncle Bob.  “An’ efn yer got time fur ter go ‘long o’ me ter de shop, an’ sot dar wile I plats on dese baskits fur de oberseer’s wife, I’ll tell jes wat I hyearn ’boutn hit.”

Of course they had plenty of time, and they all followed him to the shop, where he turned some baskets bottom-side up for seats for the children, and, seating himself on his accustomed stool, while the little darkies sat around on the dirt-floor, he began to weave the splits dexterously in and out, and proceeded to tell the story.

CHAPTER XII.

HOW THE WOODPECKER’S HEAD AND THE ROBIN’S BREAST CAME TO BE RED.

“Well” began Uncle Bob, “hit wuz all erlong er de jay bird, jes ez I wuz tellin’ yer.  Yer see, Mr. Jay Bird he fell’d in love, he did, ‘long o’ Miss Robin, an’ he wuz er courtin’ her, too; ev’y day de Lord sen’, he’d be er gwine ter see her, an’ er singin’ ter her, an’ er cyarin’ her berries an’ wums; but, somehow or udder, she didn’t pyear ter tuck no shine ter him.  She’d go er walkin’ ’long ‘im, an’ she’d sing songs wid ‘im, an’ she’d gobble up de berries an’ de wums wat he fotch, but den w’en hit come ter marry’n uv ’im, she wan’t dar.

“Well, she wouldn’t gib ‘im no kin’ er ’couragement, tell he got right sick at his heart, he did; an’ one day, ez he wuz er settin’ in his nes’ an’ er steddin how ter wuck on Miss Robin so’s ter git her love, he hyeard somebody er laughin’ an’ talkin’, an’ he lookt out, he did, an’ dar wuz Miss Robin er prumurradin’ wid de Woodpecker.  An’ wen he seed dat, he got pow’ful mad, an’ he ’low’d ter hisse’f dat efn de Lord spar’d him, he inten’ fur ter fix dat Woodpecker.

“In dem times de Woodpecker’s head wuz right black, same ez er crow, an’ he had er topknot on ’im like er rooster.  Gemmun, he wuz er han’sum bird, too.  See ’im uv er Sunday, wid his ‘go-ter-meetin’’ cloze on, an’ dar wan’t no bird could totch ’im fur looks.

“Well, he an’ Miss Robin dey went on by, er laffin’ an’ er talkin’ wid one ernudder; an’ de Jay he sot dar, wid his head turnt one side, er steddin an’ er steddin ter hisse’f; an’ by’mby, atter he made up his min’, he sot right ter wuck, he did, an’ he fix him er trap.

“He got ‘im some sticks, an’ he nailt ’em cross’n ‘is do’ same ez er plank-fence, only he lef’ space ‘nuff twix’ de bottum stick an’ de nex’ one fur er bird ter git thu; den, stid er nailin’ de stick nex’ de bottum, he tuck’n prope it up at one een wid er little chip fur ter hole it, an’ den jes res’ tudder een ‘gins de side er de nes’.  Soon’s eber he done dat, he crawlt out thu de crack mighty kyeerful, I tell yer, caze he wuz fyeared he mout er knock de stick down, an’ git his own se’f cotch in de trap; so yer hyeard me, mun, he crawlt thu mighty tick’ler.