Why dat ain't
a eye-full. I ought not to take 'em ... but me and my chillun is _so_
hongry.... Some folks is so stingy and gripin'! Lawd knows, Tony don't
_feed_ me!
(The noise of cane-chewing is heard again. Enter JOE LINDSAY left with
a gun over his shoulder and the large leg bone of a mule in the other
hand. He approaches the step wearily.)
HAMBO: Well, did you git any partridges, Joe?
JOE: (Resting his gun and seating himself) Nope, but I made de
feathers fly.
HAMBO: I don't see no birds.
JOE: Oh, the feathers flew off on de birds.
LIGE: I don't see nothin' but dat bone. Look lak you done kilt a cow
and et 'im raw out in de woods.
JOE: Don't y'all know dat hock-bone?
WALTER: How you reckon we gointer know every hock-bone in Orange
County sight unseen?
JOE: (Standing the bone up on the floor of the porch) Dis is a
hock-bone of Brazzle's ole yaller mule.
(General pleased interest. Everybody wants to touch it.)
BRAZZLE: (Coming forward) Well, sir! (Takes bone in both hands and
looks up and down the length of it) If 'tain't my ole mule! This sho
was one hell of a mule, too. He'd fight every inch in front of de
plow ... he'd turn over de mowing machine ... run away wid de
wagon ... and you better not look like you wanter _ride_ 'im!
LINDSAY: (Laughing) Yeah, I 'member seein' you comin' down de road
just so ... (He limps wid one hand on his buttocks) one day.
BRAZZLE: Dis mule was so evil he used to try to bite and kick when I'd
go in de stable to feed 'im.
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