Little Billy was as black as a tar pot, short of stature, very bow-legged, cunning as a fox, and smart. When he drew his bow across a fiddle it made you feel like dancing, and when there was a dance among the overseers, Billy played, and called out, “Swing yo’ partners;” “pigeon wing,” “ladies ter de center,” etc. He set muskrat traps, fished on Sundays, and often coon and ’possum hunted Sunday nights. His bow legs enabled him to climb like a cat, and no tree was too big for him to negotiate if Truman treed up the same; and when Billy sang out, “Put him up, True!” and Truman “chawed de bark an’ wep, an’ ’stressed hissef,” as Billy would say, you might be sure there was a coon in the tree.

Billy was a slave, helped to milk the cows, tote fire wood, pick the chickens, turkeys and geese, and was “horngry” all the time. The negroes thought Billy monstrous wise, but thought Satan would get him. He was an innocent fabricator, and a harmless rogue.

One day whilst husking corn he said he had once killed twelve eagles at a shot. The darkies remonstrated with him, and said they had never seen more than two eagles at a time, whereupon Billy said he had killed ten. They continued to taunt him until he dropped to three, and then said, “I’ll die befo’ I drap another eagle!”

One Saturday in March Billy sauntered to the humble cabin of Jerry and Caesar Butler, brothers and free negroes, to steal a dozen raw. They lived at the head of a creek, fished, oystered, and hunted the marsh for muskrats for a livelihood. Saturday night the boat came, and he knew they would have several barrels of oysters for the steamer. The weather was not very cold and he assumed they were oystering, because the day before whilst they were out Billy had slipped over and stolen a cooking ’possum. Arriving at the cabin, lo! and behold, Caesar and Jerry were both on deck, the former lamenting and pondering about his ’possum, the latter skinning a lot of muskrats he had trapped the night before.

Caesar was fond of ’possum, and returning from oystering hungry and tired, stopped at the country store, bought a pint of applejack and a fat ’possum, went home, put his ’possum in the ashes, covered it with coals, took several swigs of applejack, and went soundly to sleep—’possum struck.

When Billy appeared the ’possum was nicely roasted, which Billy ate, piled the bones in Caesar’s lap, greased his hands and face, so when Caesar awoke he found his hands and cheeks greasy, and a pile of ’possum bones in his lap. He licked his hands, and said, “Dat’s ’possum;” felt his cheeks and said, “Dat’s ’possum sho’,” and when he saw the pile of bones in his lap, said: “Dat’s ’stonishin’ applejack, an’ de mos’ ornsatisfactionis’ ’possum dat ebber I et.”

Billy was very generous and when he had money would buy oysters, but without money would invite himself to take, and generally took them, for he was prodigal. It was nothing unusual for him to go to the country store and buy two eggs’ worth of molasses, of which he was very fond.

Billy had to have an excuse for his midday visit, so he pondered quite a while inventing one. The ’possum came to mind, and his heart sank into his boots. Then he thought of the snipe that had pitched on the marsh the night before, and soon had a yarn ready; so as the two old brothers sat gazing into the soothing fire, watching some bacon fry, he sauntered in, looking meek like, and said he had “come to tell dem what he heahd de Jack Snipe say on de mash lars nite, when he wuz mus’rattin’.” Jerry and Caesar were credulous and superstitious, but questioned Billy’s hearing the snipe talk. True they thought them “ve’y ’ceitful and quare birds, but nebber heahd dem talk.” Billy said, “Crows an’ parrots talk, but dey wan’ anyt’ing ter jack snipe. Ghoses an’ witches libbed in cow’s hohns! Watah rail tu’ned inter frogs an’ jack snipe tu’ned into jack-uh-ma-lanterns, which wuz ’ceitful larf in witches, but after all, hit all ain’ harf ez strange ez uh little blossom meckin’ uh watermillion.”

The brothers were now perplexed and anxious to hear Billy’s story, and when urged said he “wuz too horngry to tell ’bout hit, mus’ go home an’ git some dinner;” whereupon Jerry suggested oysters, which Billy said he “wuz not ve’y fon’ ub, but dey wud do.” Then he gave the snipe story, as follows:

“I wuz mus’rattin’ on de mash lars’ nite. De moon had jes’ riz, an’ de tide wuz creepin’ in jes’ ez quiet an’ rash-nal ez uh settin’ hen. De creek an’ de mash look so lubly, I ’gin ter muse an’ fogot ’bout de mus’rats, an’ wuz t’inkin’ boutin uh new chune I’s learnin’ ter play, call, ‘I Sweeps de Kitchen Clean’—when, sizz! cum uh flite ub dem snipe, an’ dey mos’ lit on me. I reckon dey wud, but I say, ‘You better mine yo’sef, snipe!’ Bimeby one ub ’em say ter uh frog dat wuz chawin’ uh grasshopper not mo’n de length ub uh fence rail fum me, ‘Lubly nite, Mr. Frog!’”

Jerry: “Now, hush! I al’ays sed dem birds wuz strange—cum ter day an’ gone ter morrow!”

“Den de snipe say, ‘What sort ub frogs you bin keepin’ comp’ny wid?’ Uncle Jerry, I got so skeerd an’ cole I ain’ got warm yit.”

Uncle Caesar: “Po’ Billy! Won’ you hab ub sip ub applejack?”

“Ef you don’ t’ink I’ll get too het up.”

Uncle Caesar: “’Cose you won’!”

“Well, den, heah’s luck!”

“Sarvis ter you, Billy! Now go on ’bout dat sassy frog an’ snipe.”

“Well, de frog he say, ‘I’s uh white-bellied frog, I is! I ain’ no kin ter toad frogs. I is uh qual’ty frog. What kounty you fum, Mr. Snipe?’”

Uncle Jerry Butler: “Now, Billy, you mean ter tell me you heahd dat composation?”

Little Billy: “’Cose I did! Ain’ you nebber heahd uh frog talk, Uncle Jerry?”

“No indeed, chile!”

“Dat’s kase you don’ keep quiet ’nuff. How cum dey hab sich long tungs ef’n dey kyant talk? Why, heah’s uh book gib me by Mars John Charles lars’ Chrismus, writ by (I kyant read de fus’ part ub de name, but hit en’s wid Sop) [Aesop]. Dat pictur’ is wha de frogs is askin’ fuh uh king.”

Uncle Jerry: “De Lawd bless meh soul, what is we ter speck nex’? Lemme see de pictur’, Billy.”

“Well, I struck at dat frog wid meh paddle. He jes’ wink he eye, grunt, an’ gib me sich uh curisome look, dat I got so skeered an’ cole I kyant git wa’m; so I don’ feel peart ’nuff ter tell de res’ ub de story.”

Uncle Jerry: “Teck sum mo’ applejack, Billy; but don’ teck much, kase hit’s applejack dat mecks you ve’y fogitful.”

“Dat lars’ drink mecks me feel nice an’ wa’m! Well, when de frog say, ‘What kounty you cum fum?’ de snipe say, ‘Souf Kharlina!’ Den de frog say, “What meck you set so fur out in de mash? De mud, grass an’ bresh is fine in heah, an’ jes’ ez wa’m ez uh tose, an’ plenty ub tussocks, too.’ De jacksnipe say, ‘I nebber sleep er feed ’doutin I kin see all ’roun’ me. I’s got uh game leg, an’ I will tell you all erbout mehsef. What yo’ fus’ name, Mr. Frog? Bull! Dat’s uh lubly name. Meh name is Cap’n Jack Snipe!’”

“Mr. Frog: ‘What sorter spring you hab?’

“Cap’n Snipe: ‘Not ve’y nice. Grasshoppus an’ wumms is so sca’ce, an’ ez I befo’ tole you, I got uh game leg an’ kyant git ’roun’ good. “All moufs mus’ eat, but all moufs musn’ eat gravel.” Dat’s chicken an’ tukkey food, I eats wumms, grasshoppus, an’ sich like.’

“‘Well, how boutin de game leg, Cap’n? I ’gin ter think you ain’ got no game leg.’

“‘Deed I is; an’ dat game leg cum fum fallin’ in lub. Let me tell you fus’ what meh tase is an’ how brabe I is. I lub de juicy mash, glade an’ meadow, an’ I is feared ub nuffin ceppin hawks, owls, guns, dogs an’ mus’rats. But when I tu’ns inter uh Jack-uh-ma-lantern I ain’ feared ub nuffin.’”

Uncle Jerry: “Billy, look at me! You sho’ dat snipe spressify dey tu’n inter Jack-uh-ma-lanterns?”

“Cross meh hyart an’ bref.”

Uncle Jerry: “Well, den, I eat no mo’ snipe! Dat mus’ be de reason I’s bin dreamin’ so bad.”

Little Billy: “Talkin’ ’bout dem Jack-uh-ma-lanterns meck me feel quare. I is trimlin’ like uh aspine leaf.”

“Teck ’nubba nip, Billy, an’ try ter ’stain yo’sef tell you git th’oo dis s’prisin’ narration.”

“Well, he say: ‘Meh name Cap’n Jack Snipe, an’ I cummand uh comp’ny ub snipe, an’ we gwine ter summer on dis mash wid some cute young lady snipe fum Souf Kyarlina, dat’s gwine ter mate heah, an’ ub cose, nes’. De mus’rats don’ meck any mo’ mirations ’bout dis mash den I do. An’ de wumms, an’ de sweet roots dat grow heah wud ’tract uh snipe fum any State. I heahd uh woodcock say lars’ summer dat she had trabel uh good deal, but had nebber seen sich uh mash ez Wile Goose Mash. I sleeps well out on de mash kase I am de cap’n ub dis comp’ny ub snipe, an’ has ter watch out. Dat’s why I ain’ shuck yo’ han’, Mr. Frog; kase I is ve’y sociable, an’ likes frogs eben ef dey do say when he go co’tin’ he carry uh swo’d an’ pisel by he side. Hit’s mos’ my co’tin’ time!’

“Mr. Frog: ‘When’s dat?’

“‘When de peach an’ cherry trees am bloomin’, when de bees am suckin’ clober, an’ de patridge say, “Bob White,” we gits in lub, an’ wants uh mate. It’s ’nuff ter meck you cry, Mr. Frog, but dat’s de time I got uh game leg. Hit wuz one lubly day early in May. I wuz sorter dozin’ ’side uh tussock, ebery now an’ den ketchin’ uh grub wum, when I saw uh gran’ lookin’ pinter dog, gallopin’ same ez uh race hoss, cummin’ my way, an’ not fur behin’ him uh man in gum boots. Sez I ter mehsef, sez I, when you git erboutin uh hun’erd ya’ds fum me I’ll dart ’way. Jes’ den uh putty young lady snipe fum Firginny darted fum un’er uh nearby tussock, winked huh lubly black eyes in de mos’ coaxin’ way, spread huh tail like uh dear little fan.’”

Uncle Caesar: “Wan’ she uh sassy snipe?”

“‘So I say in de p’lites’ way, “Won’ you tase dis wum?” In uh moment she stood ’side me an’ say in words mo’ sweetah dan de mockin’ birds, “I’s got such miration fuh you I kyant resis’.” A moment later I heahd dat gunner say, “Careful da!” I ris up. Bang! Uh number ten shot wen’ th’oo meh thigh, an’ dat’s why I got uh game leg.’”

Uncle Jerry Butler: “Billy, I s’pose I mus’ bleebe yo’ story, kase I heah ’em read down ter de sto’ lars’ nite, dat uh hen lay uh gole egg, which is wussa yit. How-some-eber, I sut’ny wud lub ter ketch one ub dem breed ub chickens uh roosin’ ’roun’ heah.”