'Oh, yes, do tell us about it,' says Mis' Price.
"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the' ain't much to it in the way of a story, but seein' dinner must be most through,' I says, 'I'll tell ye all the' was of it.

The elder had a small farm 'bout two miles out of the village,' I says, 'an' he was great on raisin' chickins an' turkeys.

He was a slow, putterin' kind of an ole foozle, but on the hull a putty decent citizen.
Wa'al,' I says, 'one year when the poultry was comin' along, a family o' skunks moved onto the premises an' done so well that putty soon, as the elder said, it seemed to him that it was comin' to be a ch'ice between the chickin bus'nis an' the skunk bus'nis, an' though he said he'd heard the' was money in it, if it was done on a big enough scale, he hadn't ben edicated to it, he said, and didn't take to it _any_ ways.

So,' I says, 'he scratched 'round an' got a lot o' traps an' set 'em, an' the very next mornin' he went out an' found he'd ketched an ole he-one--president of the comp'ny.

So he went to git his gun to shoot the critter, an' found he hadn't got no powder.