I didn' mean t' run off without leavin' no word last month, but I was in a right smart hurry t' git started. I h'yeard they was work t' be had fer a real rootin' hawg, sniffin' truffles in a place called France.
I hadn' no id'y what truffles was, er where France was neither, but th' way things is gittin' around th' Piney Woods, I figgered any kind 'a reg'ler work would beat not much. I takened a right fast hike headin' South, since all I knowed about France was, they's lots 'a folks down around Eunice an' Kaplan that talks funny, an' folks say its French. So, I reck'n you'd 'a thought that'd be France, too.
Well, we'd 'a both been wrong. I run th' back roads ever' night, watchin' out fer deer hunters an' all of a day, and wound up across th' Chafalayer River just 'fore sunup 'bout th' third day, plumb wore out, and near 'bout plumb lost. I commenced t' look fer some 'a them French speakin' hawgs, t' find out where th' truffle diggin' was goin' on. I run up on some ol' sow with a swarm 'a li'l ol' scrawny shoats, an' asked 'er where th' truffle mines was at, an' I was lookin' fer work.
She looked at me like I was crazy. She snorted an' smarted off at me, "Truffles? Mais, Sha, what you talkin' 'bout? You mus' be some dumb woods hawg from Up North. Who tol' you they be truffles 'roun' heah?" I 'low'ed I hyeard they was truffle diggin' fer hawgs in France, an' I come t' git a job. Why, then that whole pack 'a shoats started squealin' an' runnin' fer th' swamp. That ol' sow bellered at me, "You git yo' scrawny rump out'a this territory. This ain't no France, you ignr'nt razerback. Git! b'fore I call th' Shurf an' have you skint!"
Well, that kind 'a hurt my feelin's, but I ain't give up on findin' th' work, an' I c'n tell it's a right smart piece fu'ther t' France than I figgered. I'm gon' keep lookin' an' I'll let y'all know what I find.