"'Will yo'-alls please speak a lil louder,' he holler down the
chimney, jes' like that.

"Now the lil ol' woman what lived by herself in that lil ol'
tumble-down house hadn't seen that no 'count Buzzard light on the
chimney fo' to warm his toes, an' when she hear that voice coming
right outen the fireplace, she was some flustrated and scared, was
that lil ol' woman. Yes, Sah, she sho'ly was plumb scared. She so
scared she tip over a whole kettleful of soup right in the fire. Of
course that make a terrible mess an' a powerful lot of smoke an' hot
ashes fly up the chimney. They like to choke that no 'count Buzzard to
death. They burn the feathers offen his haid an' neck, an' the soot
make him black, all but his feet an' laigs an' the inside of his
wings, which he keep closed.

"Mistah Buzzard he give a mighty squawk an' fly away. When he get
home, he try an' try to brush that soot off, but it done get into the
skin an' it stay there. An' from that day his haid an' neck stay
black, an' he never speak lessen he spoken to, an' then he only grunt.
His chillen jes' like him, an' his chillen's chillen the same way. An'
that is the reason that mah cousin who lives down souf done have a
black haid," concluded Ol' Mistah Buzzard.

A little sigh of satisfaction went around the circle of listeners. As
usual, Peter Rabbit was the first to speak.

"That was a splendid story, Mr. Buzzard," said he, "and I'm ever and
ever so much obliged to you. It was just as good as one of Grandfather
Frog's."