Billy Mink Finds Little Joe Otter

Billy Mink ran around the edge
of the Smiling Pool and turned
down by the Laughing Brook.
His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he
hurried as only Billy can. As he passed
Jerry Muskrat’s house, Jerry saw him.

“Hi, Billy Mink! Where are you going
in such a hurry this fine morning?”
he called.

“To find Little Joe Otter. Have you
seen anything of him?” replied Billy.

“No,” said Jerry. “He’s probably

down to the Big River fishing. I heard
him say last night that he was going.”

“Thanks,” said Billy Mink, and without
waiting to say more he was off like a
little brown flash.

Jerry watched him out of sight.
“Hump!” exclaimed Jerry. “Billy
Mink is in a terrible hurry this morning.
Now I wonder what he is so anxious to
find Little Joe Otter for. When they get
their heads together, it is usually for
some mischief.”

Jerry climbed to the top of his house
and looked over the Smiling Pool in the
direction from which Billy Mink had
just come. Almost at once he saw Grandfather
Frog fast asleep on his big green
lily-pad. The legs of a foolish green fly
were sticking out of one corner of his big
mouth. Jerry couldn’t help laughing,
for Grandfather Frog certainly did look
funny.

“He’s had a good breakfast this
morning, and his full stomach has made
him sleepy,” thought Jerry. “But he’s
getting careless in his old age. He certainly
is getting careless. The idea of
going to sleep right out in plain sight like
that!”

Suddenly a new thought popped into
his head. “Billy Mink saw him, and
that is why he is so anxious to find Little
Joe Otter. He is planning to play some
trick on Grandfather Frog as sure as
pollywogs have tails!” exclaimed Jerry.
Then his eyes began to twinkle as he
added: “I think I’ll have some fun myself.”

Without another word Jerry slipped
down into the water and swam over to
the big green lily-pad of Grandfather
Frog. Then he hit the water a smart
blow with his tail. Grandfather Frog’s
big goggly eyes flew open, and he was just

about to make a frightened plunge into
the Smiling Pool when he saw Jerry.

“Have a nice nap?” inquired Jerry,
with a broad grin.

“I wasn’t asleep!” protested Grandfather
Frog indignantly. “I was just
thinking.”

“Don’t you think it a rather dangerous
plan to think so long with your
eyes closed?” asked Jerry.

“Well, maybe I did just doze off,”
admitted Grandfather Frog sheepishly.

“Maybe you did,” replied Jerry.
“Now listen.” Then Jerry whispered
in Grandfather Frog’s ear, and both
chuckled as if they were enjoying some
joke, for they are great friends, you know.
Afterward Jerry swam back to his house,
and Grandfather Frog closed his eyes so as
to look just as he did when he was asleep.

Meanwhile Billy Mink had hurried
down the Laughing Brook. Half-way to

the Big River he met Little Joe Otter
bringing home a big fish, for you know
Little Joe is a great fisherman. Billy
Mink hastened to tell him how Grandfather
Frog had fallen fast asleep on his
big green lily-pad.

“It’s a splendid chance to have some
fun with Grandfather Frog and give him
a great scare,” concluded Billy.

Little Joe Otter put his fish down and
grinned. He likes to play pranks almost
as well as he likes to go fishing.

“What can we do?” said he.

“I’ve thought of a plan,” replied
Billy. “Do you happen to know where
we can find Longlegs the Blue Heron?”

“Yes,” said Little Joe. “I saw him
fishing not five minutes ago.”

Then Billy told Little Joe his plan,
and laughing and giggling, the two little
scamps hurried off to find Longlegs the
Blue Heron.

Longlegs The Blue Heron Receives Callers

Longlegs the Blue Heron
felt decidedly out of sorts. It
was a beautiful morning, too
beautiful for any one to be feeling that
way. Indeed, it was the same beautiful
morning in which Grandfather Frog had
caught so many foolish green flies.

Jolly, round, bright Mr. Sun was smiling
his broadest. The Merry Little Breezes
of Old Mother West Wind were dancing
happily here and there over the Green
Meadows, looking for some good turn to
do for others. The little feathered people
to whom Old Mother Nature has given
the great blessing of music in their throats
were pouring out their sweetest songs.

So it seemed as if there was no good
reason why Longlegs should feel out of
sorts. The fact is the trouble with Longlegs
was an empty stomach. Yes, Sir,
that is what ailed Longlegs the Blue
Heron that sunshiny morning. You
know it is hard work to be hungry and
happy at the same time.

So Longlegs stood on the edge of a
shallow little pool in the Laughing
Brook, grumbling to himself. Just a
little while before, he had seen Little Joe
Otter carrying home a big fish, and this
had made him hungrier and more out of
sorts than ever. In the first place it
made him envious, and envy, you know,
always stirs up bad feelings. He knew
perfectly well that Little Joe had got
that fish by boldly chasing it until he
caught it, for Little Joe can swim even
faster than a fish. But Longlegs chose
to try to make himself think that it was

all luck. Moreover, he wanted to blame
some one for his own lack of success, as
most people who fail do. So when Little
Joe had called out: “Hi, Longlegs, what
luck this fine morning?” Longlegs just
pretended not to hear. But when Little
Joe was out of sight and hearing, he
began to grumble to himself.

“No wonder I have no luck with that
fellow racing up and down the Laughing
Brook,” said he. “He isn’t content to
catch what he wants himself, but frightens
the rest of the fish so that an honest
fisherman like me has no chance at all.
I don’t see what Old Mother Nature was
thinking of when she gave him a liking
for fish. He and Billy Mink are just two
worthless little scamps, born to make
trouble for other people.”

He was still grumbling when these two
same little scamps poked their heads out
of the grass on the other side of the little

pool. “You look happy, Longlegs.
Must be that you have had a good
breakfast,” said Little Joe, nudging Billy
Mink.

Longlegs snapped his great bill angrily.
“What are you doing here, spoiling
my fishing?” he demanded.
“Haven’t you got the Big River and all
the rest of the Laughing Brook to fool
around in? This is my pool, and I’ll
thank you to keep away!”

Billy Mink chuckled so that Longlegs
heard him, and that didn’t improve his
temper a bit. But before he could say
anything more, Little Joe Otter spoke.

“Oh,” said he, “we beg your pardon.
We just happen to know that Grandfather
Frog is sound asleep, and we thought that
if you hadn’t had good luck this morning,
you might like to know about it. As long
as you think so ill of us, we’ll just run
over and tell Blackcap the Night Heron.”

Little Joe turned as if to start off in
search of Blackcap at once. “Hold on
a minute!” called Longlegs, and tried to
make his voice sound pleasant, a difficult
thing to do, because, you know, his
voice is very harsh and disagreeable.
“The truth is, I haven’t had a mouthful
of breakfast and to be hungry is apt to
make me cross. Where did you say
Grandfather Frog is?”

“I didn’t say,” replied Little Joe,
“but if you really want to know, he is
sitting on his big green lily-pad in the
Smiling Pool fast asleep right in plain
sight.”

“Thank you,” said Longlegs. “I
believe I have an errand up that way,
now I think of it. I believe I’ll just go
over and have a look at him. I have
never seen him asleep.”

Longlegs Visits The Smiling Pool

Longlegs the Blue Heron
watched Billy Mink and Little
Joe Otter disappear down the
Laughing Brook. As long as they were
in sight, he sat without moving, his
head drawn down between his shoulders
just as if he had nothing more important
to think about than a morning nap. But
if you had been near enough to have seen
his keen eyes, you would never have
suspected him of even thinking of a nap.
Just as soon as he felt sure that the two
little brown-coated scamps were out of
sight, he stretched his long neck up until
he was almost twice as tall as he had
been a minute before. He looked this

way and that way to make sure that no
danger was near, spread his great wings,
flapped heavily up into the air, and then,
with his head once more tucked back
between his shoulders and his long legs
straight out behind him, he flew out over
the Green Meadows, and making a big
circle, headed straight for the Smiling
Pool.

All this time Billy Mink and Little
Joe Otter had not been so far away as
Longlegs supposed. They had been
hiding where they could watch him, and
the instant he spread his wings, they
started back up the Laughing Brook
towards the Smiling Pool to see what
would happen there. You see they
knew perfectly well that Longlegs was
flying up to the Smiling Pool in the hope
that he could catch Grandfather Frog
for his breakfast. They didn’t really
mean that any harm should come to

Grandfather Frog, but they meant that
he should have a great fright. You see,
they were like a great many other people,
so heedless and thoughtless that they
thought it fun to frighten others.

“Of course we’ll waken Grandfather
Frog in time for him to get away with
nothing more than a great scare,” said
Little Joe Otter, as they hurried along.
“It will be such fun to see his big goggly
eyes pop out when he opens them and
sees Longlegs just ready to gobble him
up! And won’t Longlegs be hopping
mad when we cheat him out of the
breakfast he is so sure he is going to
have!”

They reached the Smiling Pool before
Longlegs, who had taken a roundabout
way, and they hid among the bulrushes
where they could see and not be seen.

“There’s the old fellow just as I left
him, fast asleep,” whispered Billy Mink.

Sure enough, there on his big green
lily-pad sat Grandfather Frog with his
eyes shut. At least, they seemed to be
shut. And over on top of his big house
sat Jerry Muskrat. Jerry seemed to be
too busy opening a fresh-water clam to
notice anything else; but the truth is
he was watching all that was going on.
You see, he had suspected that Billy
Mink was going to play some trick on
Grandfather Frog, so he had warned
him. When he had seen Longlegs coming
towards the Smiling Pool, he had
given Grandfather Frog another warning,
and he knew that now he was only
pretending to be asleep.

Straight up to the Smiling Pool came
Longlegs the Blue Heron, and on the
very edge of it, among the bulrushes,
he dropped his long legs and stood with
his toes in the water, his long neck
stretched up so that he could look all

over the Smiling Pool. There, just as
Little Joe Otter had said, sat Grandfather
Frog on his big green lily-pad,
fast asleep. At least, he seemed to be
fast asleep. The eyes of Longlegs
sparkled with hunger and the thought
of what a splendid breakfast Grandfather
Frog would make. Very slowly,
putting each foot down as carefully as
he knew how, Longlegs began to walk
along the shore so as to get opposite
the big green lily-pad where Grandfather
Frog was sitting. And over in
the bulrushes on the other side, Little
Joe Otter and Billy Mink nudged each
other and clapped their hands over their
mouths to keep from laughing aloud.

The Patience Of Longlegs The Blue Heron

If there is one virtue which Longlegs
the Heron possesses above another
it is patience. Yes, Sir, Longlegs
certainly has got patience. He believes
that if a thing is worth having, it is worth
waiting for, and that if he waits long
enough, he is sure to get it. Perhaps that
is because he has been a fisherman all
his life, and his father and his grandfather
were fishermen. You know a
fisherman without patience rarely catches
anything. Of course Billy Mink and
Little Joe Otter laugh at this and say

that it isn’t so, but the truth is they
sometimes go hungry when they wouldn’t
if they had a little of the patience of
Longlegs.

Now Grandfather Frog is another who
is very, very patient. He can sit still
the longest time waiting for something
to come to him. Indeed, he can sit perfectly
still so long, and Longlegs can
stand perfectly still so long, that Jerry
Muskrat and Billy Mink and Little Joe
Otter have had many long disputes as to
which of the two can keep still the
longest.

“He will make a splendid breakfast,”
thought Longlegs, as very, very carefully
he walked along the edge of the
Smiling Pool so as to get right opposite
Grandfather Frog. There he stopped
and looked very hard at Grandfather
Frog. Yes, he certainly must be asleep,
for his eyes were closed. Longlegs

chuckled to himself right down inside
without making a sound, and got ready
to wade out so as to get within reach.

Now all the time Grandfather Frog
was doing some quiet chuckling himself.
You see, he wasn’t asleep at all. He was
just pretending to be asleep, and all the
time he was watching Longlegs out of a
corner of one of his big goggly eyes.
Very, very slowly and carefully, so as
not to make the teeniest, weeniest sound,
Longlegs lifted one foot to wade out into
the Smiling Pool. Grandfather Frog
pretended to yawn and opened his big
goggly eyes. Longlegs stood on one
foot without moving so much as a feather.
Grandfather Frog yawned again, nodded
as if he were too sleepy to keep awake,
and half closed his eyes. Longlegs
waited and waited. Then, little by
little, so slowly that if you had been
there you would hardly have seen him

move, he drew his long neck down until
his head rested on his shoulders.

“I guess I must wait until he falls
sound asleep again,” said Longlegs to
himself.

But Grandfather Frog didn’t go to
sleep. He would nod and nod and then,
just when Longlegs would make up his
mind that this time he really was asleep,
open would pop Grandfather Frog’s eyes.
So all the long morning Longlegs stood
on one foot without moving, watching
and waiting and growing hungrier and
hungrier, and all the long morning Grandfather
Frog sat on his big green lily-pad,
pretending that he was oh, so sleepy,
and all the time having such a comfortable
sun-bath and rest, for very
early he had had a good breakfast of
foolish green flies.

Over in the bulrushes on the other side
of the Smiling Pool two little scamps in

brown bathing suits waited and watched
for the great fright they had planned
for Grandfather Frog, when they had
sent Longlegs to try to catch him.
They were Billy Mink and Little Joe
Otter. At first they laughed to themselves
and nudged each other at the
thought of the trick they had played.
Then, as nothing happened, they began
to grow tired and uneasy. You see they
do not possess patience. Finally they
gave up in disgust and stole away to
find some more exciting sport. Grandfather
Frog saw them go and chuckled
harder than ever to himself.

Grandfather Frog Jumps Just In Time

Back and forth over the Green
Meadows sailed Whitetail the
Marsh Hawk. Like Longlegs the
Blue Heron, he was hungry. His sharp
eyes peered down among the grasses,
looking for something to eat, but some
good fairy seemed to have warned the
very little people who live there that
Whitetail was out hunting. Perhaps it
was one of Old Mother West Wind’s
children, the Merry Little Breezes. You
know they are always flitting about trying
to do some one a good turn.

Anyway, little Mr. Green Snake
seemed to know that Whitetail was out
hunting and managed to keep out of
sight. Danny Meadow Mouse wasn’t to
be found. Only a few foolish grasshoppers
rewarded his patient search,
and these only served to make him feel
hungrier than ever. But old Whitetail
has a great deal of persistence, and in
spite of his bad luck, he kept at his
hunting, back and forth, back and forth,
until he had been all over the Green
Meadows. At last he made up his mind
that he was wasting time there.

“I’ll just have a look over at the
Smiling Pool, and if there is nothing
there, I’ll take a turn or two along the
Big River,” thought he and straightway
started for the Smiling Pool. Long
before he reached it, his keen eyes saw
Longlegs the Blue Heron standing motionless
on the edge of it, and he knew

by the looks of Longlegs that he was
watching something which he hoped to
catch.

“If it’s a fish,” thought Whitetail,
“it will do me no good, for I am no
fisherman. But if it’s a Frog—well,
Frogs are not as good eating as fat
Meadow Mice, but they are very filling.”

With that he hurried a little faster,
and then he saw what Longlegs was
watching so intently. It was, as you
know, Grandfather Frog sitting on his
big green lily-pad. Old Whitetail gave
a great sigh of satisfaction. Grandfather
Frog certainly would be very
filling, very filling, indeed.

Now Longlegs the Blue Heron was so
intently watching Grandfather Frog that
he saw nothing else, and Grandfather
Frog was so busy watching Longlegs
that he quite forgot that there might be
other dangers. Besides, his back was

toward old Whitetail. Of course Whitetail
saw this, and it made him almost
chuckle aloud. Ever so many times he
had tried to catch Grandfather Frog,
but always Grandfather Frog had seen
him long before he could get near him.

Now, with all his keen sight, old
Whitetail had failed to see some one else
who was sitting right in plain sight. He
had failed because his mind was so full
of Grandfather Frog and Longlegs that
he forgot to look around, as he usually
does. Just skimming the tops of the bulrushes
he sailed swiftly out over the
Smiling Pool and reached down with
his great, cruel claws to clutch Grandfather
Frog, who sat there pretending to
be asleep, but all the time watching
Longlegs and deep down inside chuckling
to think how he was fooling Longlegs.

Slap! That was the tail of Jerry
Muskrat hitting the water. Grandfather

Frog knew what that meant—danger!
He didn’t know what the danger was,
and he didn’t wait to find out. There
would be time enough for that later.
When Jerry Muskrat slapped the water
with his tail that way, danger was very
near indeed. With a frightened “Chugarum!”
Grandfather Frog dived head
first into the Smiling Pool, and so close
was old Whitetail that the water was
splashed right in his face. He clutched
frantically with his great claws, but all
he got was a piece of the big green lily-pad
on which Grandfather Frog had
been sitting, and of course this was of
no use for an empty stomach.

With a scream of disappointment and
anger, he whirled in the air and made
straight for Jerry Muskrat. But Jerry
just laughed in the most provoking way
and ducked under water.

Longlegs And Whitetail Quarrel

You see Longlegs the Blue Heron
had stood very patiently on one
foot all the long morning waiting
for Grandfather Frog to go to sleep on
his big green lily-pad. He had felt sure
he was to have Grandfather Frog for his
breakfast and lunch, for he had had no
breakfast, and it was now lunch time.
He was so hungry that it seemed to him
that the sides of his stomach certainly
would fall in because there was nothing
to hold them up, and then, without any
warning at all, old Whitetail the Marsh

Hawk had glided out across the Smiling
Pool with his great claws stretched out
to clutch Grandfather Frog, and Grandfather
Frog had dived into the Smiling
Pool with a great splash just in the very
nick of time.

Now is there anything in the world so
hard on the temper as to lose a good meal
when you are very, very, very hungry?
Of course Longlegs didn’t really have
that good meal, but he had thought that
he was surely going to have it. So when
Grandfather Frog splashed into the
Smiling Pool, of course Longlegs lost
his temper altogether. His yellow eyes
seemed to grow even more yellow.

“You robber! You thief!” he
screamed harshly at old Whitetail.

Now old Whitetail was just as hungry
as Longlegs, and he had come even
nearer to catching Grandfather Frog.
He is even quicker tempered than Longlegs.

He had whirled like a flash on
Jerry Muskrat, but Jerry had just
laughed in the most provoking manner
and ducked under water. This had made
old Whitetail angrier than ever, and
then to be called bad names—robber
and thief! It was more than any self-respecting
Hawk could stand. Yes, Sir,
it certainly was! He fairly shook with
rage as he turned in the air once more
and made straight for Longlegs the Blue
Heron.

“I’m no more robber and thief than
you are!” he shrieked.

“You frightened away my Frog!”
screamed Longlegs.

“I didn’t!”

“You did!”

“I didn’t! It wasn’t your Frog; it
was mine!”

“Chugarum!” said Grandfather Frog
to Jerry Muskrat, as they peeped out

from under some lily-pads. “I didn’t
know I belonged to anybody. I really
didn’t. Did you?”

“No,” replied Jerry, his eyes sparkling
with excitement as he watched Longlegs
and Whitetail, “it’s news to me.”

“You’re too lazy to hunt like honest
people!” taunted old Whitetail, as he
wheeled around Longlegs, watching for a
chance to strike with his great, cruel
claws.

“I’m too honest to take the food out
of other people’s mouths!” retorted
Longlegs, dancing around so as always
to face Whitetail, one of his great, broad
wings held in front of him like a shield,
and his long, strong bill ready to strike.

Every feather on Whitetail’s head was
standing erect with rage, and he looked
very fierce and terrible. At last he saw
a chance, or thought he did, and shot
down. But all he got was a feather from

that great wing which Longlegs kept in
front of him, and before he could get
away, that long bill had struck him twice,
so that he screamed with pain. So they
fought and fought, till the ground was
covered with feathers, and they were too
tired to fight any longer. Then, slowly
and painfully, old Whitetail flew away
over the Green Meadows, and with torn
and ragged wings, Longlegs flew heavily
down the Laughing Brook towards the
Big River, and both were sore and stiff
and still hungry.

“Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible
thing and how useless anger is,”
said Grandfather Frog, as he climbed
back on his big green lily-pad in the
warm sunshine.

Grandfather Frog’s Big Mouth Gets Him In Trouble

Grandfather Frog has a
great big mouth. You know
that. Everybody does. His
friends of the Smiling Pool, the Laughing
Brook, and the Green Meadows have
teased Grandfather Frog a great deal
about the size of his mouth, but he
hasn’t minded in the least, not the very
least. You see, he learned a long time
ago that a big mouth is very handy for
catching foolish green flies, especially
when two happen to come along together.
So he is rather proud of his big
mouth, just as he is of his goggly eyes.

But once in a while his big mouth gets
him into trouble. It’s a way big mouths

have. It holds so much that it makes
him greedy sometimes. He stuffs it full
after his stomach already has all that it
can hold, and then of course he can’t
swallow. Then Grandfather Frog looks
very foolish and silly and undignified,
and everybody calls him a greedy fellow
who is old enough to know better and
who ought to be ashamed of himself.
Perhaps he is, but he never says so, and
he is almost sure to do the same thing
over again the first chance he has.

Now it happened that one morning
when Grandfather Frog had had a very
good breakfast of foolish green flies and
really didn’t need another single thing
to eat, who should come along but Little
Joe Otter, who had been down to the
Big River fishing. He had eaten all he
could hold, and he was taking the rest
of his catch to a secret hiding-place up
the Laughing Brook.

Now Grandfather Frog is very fond
of fish for a change, and when he saw
those that Little Joe Otter had, his eyes
glistened, and in spite of his full stomach
his mouth watered.

“Good morning, Grandfather Frog!
Have you had your breakfast yet?”
called Little Joe Otter.

Grandfather Frog wanted to say no,
but he always tells the truth. “Ye-e-s,”
he replied. “I’ve had my breakfast,
such as it was. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, for no reason in particular. I
just thought that if you hadn’t, you
might like a fish. But as long as you
have breakfasted, of course you don’t
want one,” said Little Joe, his bright
eyes beginning to twinkle. He held the
fish out so that Grandfather Frog could
see just how plump and nice they were.

“Chugarum!” exclaimed Grandfather
Frog. “Those certainly are very nice

fish, very nice fish indeed. It is very nice
of you to think of a poor old fellow like
me, and I—er—well, I might find
room for just a little teeny, weeny one, if
you can spare it.”

Little Joe Otter knows all about
Grandfather Frog’s greediness. He
looked at Grandfather Frog’s white and
yellow waistcoat and saw how it was
already stuffed full to bursting. The
twinkle in his eyes grew more mischievous
than ever as he said: “Of course
I can. But I wouldn’t think of giving
such an old friend a teeny, weeny one.”

With that, Little Joe picked out the
biggest fish he had and tossed it over to
Grandfather Frog. It landed close by
his nose with a great splash, and it was
almost half as big as Grandfather Frog
himself. It was plump and looked so
tempting that Grandfather Frog forgot
all about his full stomach. He even

forgot to be polite and thank Little Joe
Otter. He just opened his great mouth
and seized the fish. Yes, Sir, that is just
what he did. Almost before you could
wink an eye, the fish had started down
Grandfather Frog’s throat head first.

Now you know Grandfather Frog has
no teeth, and so he cannot bite things in
two. He has to swallow them whole.
That is just what he started to do with
the fish. It went all right until the head
reached his stomach. But you can’t put
anything more into a thing already full,
and Grandfather Frog’s stomach was
packed as full as it could be of foolish
green flies. There the fish stuck, and
gulp and swallow as hard as he could,
Grandfather Frog couldn’t make that
fish go a bit farther. Then he tried to
get it out again, but it had gone so far
down his throat that he couldn’t get it
back. Grandfather Frog began to choke.

Spotty The Turtle Plays Doctor

At first Little Joe Otter, sitting on
the bank of the Smiling Pool,
laughed himself almost sick as he
watched Grandfather Frog trying to
swallow a fish almost as big as himself,
when his white and yellow waistcoat was
already stuffed so full of foolish green
flies that there wasn’t room for anything
more. Such greed would have been disgusting,
if it hadn’t been so very, very
funny. At least, it was funny at first,
for the fish had stuck, with the tail hanging
out of Grandfather Frog’s big mouth.
Grandfather Frog hitched this way and

hitched that way on his big green lily-pad,
trying his best to swallow. Twice
he tumbled off with a splash into the
Smiling Pool. Each time he scrambled
back again and rolled his great goggly
eyes in silent appeal to Little Joe Otter
to come to his aid.

As soon as they saw Grandfather Frog, they began to laugh,
too. Page 37.

But Little Joe was laughing so that he
had to hold his sides, and he didn’t
understand that Grandfather Frog really
was in trouble. Billy Mink and Jerry
Muskrat came along, and as soon as they
saw Grandfather Frog, they began to
laugh, too. They just laughed and
laughed and laughed until the tears
came. They rolled over and over on the
bank and kicked their heels from sheer
enjoyment. It was the funniest thing
they had seen for a long, long time.

“Did you ever see such greed?”
gasped Billy Mink.

“Why don’t you pull it out and

start over again?” shouted Little Joe
Otter.

Now this is just what Grandfather
Frog was trying to do. At least, he was
trying to pull the fish out. He hadn’t
the least desire in the world to try
swallowing it again. In fact, he felt just
then as if he never, never wanted to
see another fish so long as he lived. But
Grandfather Frog’s hands are not made
for grasping slippery things, and the tail
of a fish is very slippery indeed. He
tried first with one hand, then with the
other, and at last with both. It was of
no use at all. He just couldn’t budge
that fish. He couldn’t cough it up,
because it had gone too far down for
that. The more he clawed at that
waving tail with his hands, the funnier
he looked, and the harder Little Joe
Otter and Billy Mink and Jerry Muskrat
laughed. They made such a noise

that Spotty the Turtle, who had been
taking a sun-bath on the end of an old
log, slipped into the water and started
to see what it was all about.

Now Spotty the Turtle is very, very
slow on land, but he is a good swimmer.
He hurried now because he didn’t want
to miss the fun. At first he didn’t see
Grandfather Frog.

“What’s the joke?” he asked.

Little Joe Otter simply pointed to
Grandfather Frog. Little Joe had
laughed so much that he couldn’t even
speak. Spotty looked over to the big
green lily-pad and started to laugh too.
Then he saw great tears rolling down
from Grandfather Frog’s eyes and heard
little choky sounds. He stopped laughing
and started for Grandfather Frog as
fast as he could swim. He climbed right
up on the big green lily-pad, and reaching
out, grabbed the end of the fish tail in

his beak-like mouth. Then Spotty the
Turtle settled back and pulled, and
Grandfather Frog settled back and
pulled. Splash! Grandfather Frog had
fallen backward into the Smiling Pool
on one side of the big green lily-pad.
Splash! Spotty the Turtle had fallen
backward into the Smiling Pool on the
opposite side of the big green lily-pad.
And the fish which had caused all the
trouble lay floating on the water.

“Thank you! Thank you!” gasped
Grandfather Frog, as he feebly crawled
back on the lily-pad. “A minute more,
and I would have choked to death.”

“Don’t mention it,” replied Spotty
the Turtle.

“I never, never will,” promised Grandfather
Frog.

Old Mr. Toad Visits Grandfather Frog

Grandfather Frog and old
Mr. Toad are cousins. Of course
you know that without being
told. Everybody does. But not everybody
knows that they were born in the
same place. They were. Yes, Sir, they
were. They were born in the Smiling
Pool. Both had long tails and for a
while no legs, and they played and swam
together without ever going on shore.
In fact, when they were babies, they
couldn’t live out of the water. And
people who saw them didn’t know the
difference between them and called them
by the same names—tadpoles or pollywogs.

But when they grew old enough
to have legs and get along without tails,
they parted company.

You see, it was this way: Grandfather
Frog (of course he wasn’t grandfather
then) loved the Smiling Pool so well that
he couldn’t think of leaving it. He
heard all about the Great World and
what a wonderful place it was, but he
couldn’t and wouldn’t believe that there
could be any nicer place than the Smiling
Pool, and so he made up his mind that
he would live there always.

But Mr. Toad could hardly wait to
get rid of his tail before turning his back
on the Smiling Pool and starting out to
see the Great World. Nothing that
Grandfather Frog could say would stop
him, and away Mr. Toad went, when he
was so small that he could hide under a
clover leaf. Grandfather Frog didn’t
expect ever to see him again. But he

did, though it wasn’t for a long, long time.
And when he did come back, he had
grown so that Grandfather Frog hardly
knew him at first. And right then and
there began a dispute which they have
kept up ever since: whether it was best
to go out into the Great World or remain
in the home of childhood. Each was sure
that what he had done was best, and
each is sure of it to this day.

So whenever old Mr. Toad visits
Grandfather Frog, as he does every once
in a while, they are sure to argue and
argue on this same old subject. It was
so on the day that Grandfather Frog
had so nearly choked to death. Old Mr.
Toad had heard about it from one of the
Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother
West Wind and right away had started
for the Smiling Pool to pay his respects
to Grandfather Frog, and to tell him how
glad he was that Spotty the Turtle had

come along just in time to pull the fish
out of Grandfather Frog’s throat.

Now all day long Grandfather Frog
had had to listen to unpleasant remarks
about his greediness. It was such a
splendid chance to tease him that everybody
around the Smiling Pool took
advantage of it. Grandfather Frog took
it good-naturedly at first, but after a
while it made him cross, and by the time
his cousin, old Mr. Toad, arrived, he
was sulky and just grunted when Mr.
Toad told him how glad he was to find
Grandfather Frog quite recovered.

Old Mr. Toad pretended not to notice
how out of sorts Grandfather Frog was
but kept right on talking.

“If you had been out in the Great
World as much as I have been, you
would have known that Little Joe Otter
wasn’t giving you that fish for nothing,”
said he.

Grandfather Frog swelled right out
with anger. “Chugarum!” he exclaimed
in his deepest, gruffest voice.
“Chugarum! Go back to your Great
World and learn to mind your own affairs,
Mr. Toad.”

Right away old Mr. Toad began to
swell with anger too. For a whole
minute he glared at Grandfather Frog,
so indignant he couldn’t find his tongue.
When he did find it, he said some very
unpleasant things, and right away they
began to dispute.

“What good are you to anybody but
yourself, never seeing anything of the
Great World and not knowing anything
about what is going on or what other
people are doing?” asked old Mr. Toad.

“I’m minding my own affairs and not
meddling with things that don’t concern
me, as seems to be the way out in the
Great World you are so fond of talking

about,” retorted Grandfather Frog.
“Wise people know enough to be content
with what they have. You’ve been
out in the Great World ever since you
could hop, and what good has it done
you? Tell me that! You haven’t even
a decent suit of clothes to your back.”
Grandfather Frog patted his white and
yellow waistcoat as he spoke and looked
admiringly at the reflection of his handsome
green coat in the Smiling Pool.

Old Mr. Toad’s eyes snapped, for
you know his suit is very plain and
rough.

“People who do honest work for their
living have no time to sit about in fine
clothes admiring themselves,” he replied
sharply. “I’ve learned this much out
in the Great World, that lazy people
come to no good end, and I know enough
not to choke myself to death.”

Grandfather Frog almost choked again,

he was so angry. You see old Mr. Toad’s
remarks were very personal, and nobody
likes personal remarks when they are
unpleasant, especially if they happen to
be true. Grandfather Frog was trying
his best to think of something sharp to
say in reply, when Mr. Redwing, sitting
in the top of the big hickory-tree, shouted:
“Here comes Farmer Brown’s boy!”

Grandfather Frog forgot his anger and
began to look anxious. He moved about
uneasily on his big green lily-pad and
got ready to dive into the Smiling Pool,
for he was afraid that Farmer Brown’s
boy had a pocketful of stones as he
usually did have when he came over
to the Smiling Pool.

Old Mr. Toad didn’t look troubled the
least bit. He didn’t even look around
for a hiding-place. He just sat still and
grinned.

“You’d better watch out, or you’ll

never visit the Smiling Pool again,”
called Grandfather Frog.

“Oh,” replied old Mr. Toad, “I’m
not afraid. Farmer Brown’s boy is a
friend of mine. I help him in his garden.
How to make friends is one of the things
the Great World has taught me.”

“Chugarum!” said Grandfather Frog.
“I’d have you to know that—”

But what it was that he was to know
old Mr. Toad never found out, for just
then Grandfather Frog caught sight of
Farmer Brown’s boy and without waiting
even to say good-by he dived into
the Smiling Pool.

Grandfather Frog Starts Out To See The Great World

Grandfather Frog looked
very solemn as he sat on his big
green lily-pad in the Smiling
Pool. He looked very much as if he had
something on his mind. A foolish green
fly actually brushed Grandfather Frog’s
nose and he didn’t even notice it. The
fact is he did have something on his
mind. It had been there ever since his
cousin, old Mr. Toad, had called the
day before and they had quarreled as
usual over the question whether it was
best never to leave home or to go out into
the Great World.

Right in the midst of their quarrel

along had come Farmer Brown’s boy.
Now Grandfather Frog is afraid of
Farmer Brown’s boy, so when he appeared,
Grandfather Frog stopped arguing
with old Mr. Toad and with a great
splash dived into the Smiling Pool and
hid under a lily-pad. There he stayed
and watched his cousin, old Mr. Toad,
grinning in the most provoking way, for
he wasn’t afraid of Farmer Brown’s boy.
In fact, he had boasted that they were
friends. Grandfather Frog had thought
that this was just an idle boast, but when
he saw Farmer Brown’s boy tickle old
Mr. Toad under his chin with a straw,
while Mr. Toad sat perfectly still and
seemed to enjoy it, he knew that it was
true.

Grandfather Frog had not come out of
his hiding-place until after old Mr. Toad
had gone back across the Green Meadows
and Farmer Brown’s boy had gone

home for his supper. Then Grandfather
Frog had climbed back on his big green
lily-pad and had sat there half the night
without once leading the chorus of the
Smiling Pool with his great deep bass
voice as he usually did. He was thinking,
thinking very hard. And now, this
bright, sunshiny morning, he was still
thinking.

The fact is Grandfather Frog was beginning
to wonder if perhaps, after all,
Mr. Toad was right. If the Great World
had taught him how to make friends with
Farmer Brown’s boy, there really must
be some things worth learning there.
Not for the world would Grandfather
Frog have admitted to old Mr. Toad or
to any one else that there was anything
for him to learn, for you know he is very
old and by his friends is accounted very
wise. But right down in his heart he
was beginning to think that perhaps

there were some things which he couldn’t
learn in the Smiling Pool. So he sat and
thought and thought. Suddenly he made
up his mind.

“Chugarum!” said he. “I’ll do it!”

“Do what?” asked Jerry Muskrat,
who happened to be swimming past.

“I’ll go out and see for myself what
this Great World my cousin, old Mr.
Toad, is so fond of talking about is like,”
replied Grandfather Frog.

“Don’t you do it,” advised Jerry
Muskrat. “Don’t you do anything so
foolish as that. You’re too old, much
too old, Grandfather Frog, to go out into
the Great World.”

Now few old people like to be told
that they are too old to do what they
please, and Grandfather Frog is no different
from others. “You just mind your
own affairs, Jerry Muskrat,” he retorted
sharply. “I guess I know what is best

for me without being told. If my cousin,
old Mr. Toad, can take care of himself
out in the Great World, I can. He isn’t
half so spry as I am. I’m going, and
that is all there is about it!”

With that Grandfather Frog dived
into the Smiling Pool, swam across to a
place where the bank was low, and without
once looking back started across the
Green Meadows to see the Great World.

Grandfather Frog Is Stubborn

Grandfather actually had
started out to see the Great
World. Yes, Sir, he had turned
his back on the Smiling Pool, and nothing
that Jerry Muskrat could say made the
least bit of difference. Grandfather Frog
had made up his mind, and when he does
that, it is just a waste of time and
breath for any one to try to make him
change it. You see Grandfather Frog
is stubborn. Yes, that is just the word—stubborn.
He would see for himself
what this Great World was that his
cousin, old Mr. Toad, talked so much

about and said was so much better than
the Smiling Pool where Grandfather Frog
had spent his whole life.

“If old Mr. Toad can take care of
himself, I can take care of myself out in
the Great World,” said Grandfather
Frog, to himself as, with great jumps,
he started out on to the Green Meadows.
“I guess he isn’t any smarter than
I am! He isn’t half so spry as I am,
and I can jump three times as far as he
can. I’ll see for myself what this Great
World is like, and then I’ll go back to
the Smiling Pool and stay there the rest
of my life. Chugarum, how warm it is!”

It was warm. Jolly, round, bright Mr.
Sun was smiling his broadest and pouring
his warmest rays down on the Green
Meadows. The Merry Little Breezes of
Old Mother West Wind were taking a
nap. You see, they had played so hard
early in the morning that they were

tired. So there was nobody and nothing
to cool Grandfather Frog, and he just
grew warmer and warmer with every
jump. He began to grow thirsty, and
how he did long for a plunge in the dear,
cool Smiling Pool! But he was stubborn.
He wouldn’t turn back, no matter how
uncomfortable he felt. He would see
the Great World if it killed him. So he
kept right on, jump, jump, jump, jump.

Grandfather Frog had been up the
Laughing Brook and down the Laughing
Brook, where he could swim when he
grew tired of traveling on the bank, and
where he could cool off whenever he
became too warm, but never before had
he been very far away from water, and
he found this a very different matter.
At first he had made great jumps, for
that is what his long legs were given him
for; but the long grass bothered him,
and after a little the jumps grew shorter

and shorter and shorter, and with every
jump he puffed and puffed and presently
began to grunt. You see he never
before had made more than a few jumps
at a time without resting, and his legs
grew tired in a very little while.

Now if Grandfather Frog had known
as much about the Green Meadows as
the little people who live there all the
time do, he would have taken the Lone
Little Path, where the going was easy.
But he didn’t. He just started right
out without knowing where he was going,
and of course the way was hard, very
hard indeed. The grass was so tall that
he couldn’t see over it, and the ground
was so rough that it hurt his tender feet,
which were used to the soft, mossy bank
of the Smiling Pool. He had gone only a
little way before he wished with all his
might that he had never thought of seeing
the Great World. But he had said

that he was going to and he would, so
he kept right on—jump, jump, rest,
jump, jump, jump, rest, jump, and then
a long rest.

It was during one of these rests that
he heard footsteps, and then a dreadful
sound that made cold chills run all over
him. Sniff, sniff, sniff! It was coming
nearer. Grandfather Frog flattened himself
down as close to the ground as he
could get. But it was of no use, no use
at all. The sniffing came nearer and
nearer, and then right over him stood
Bowser the Hound! Bowser looked just
as surprised as he felt. He put out one
paw and turned Grandfather Frog over on
his back. Grandfather Frog struggled to
his feet and made two frightened jumps.

“Bow, wow!” cried Bowser and rolled
him over again. Bowser thought it
great fun, but Grandfather Frog thought
that his last day had come.

Grandfather Frog Keeps On

That his very last day had come
Grandfather Frog was sure. He
didn’t have the least doubt about
it. Here he was at the mercy of Bowser
the Hound out on the Green Meadows
far from the dear, safe Smiling Pool.
Every time he moved, Bowser flipped
him over on his back and danced around
him, barking with joy. Every minute
Grandfather Frog expected to feel Bowser’s
terrible teeth, and he grew cold at
the thought. When he found that he

couldn’t get away, he just lay still. He
was too tired and frightened to do much
of anything else, anyway.

Now when he lay still, he spoiled Bowser’s
fun, for it was seeing him jump and
kick his long legs that tickled Bowser so.
Bowser tossed him up in the air two
or three times, but Grandfather Frog
simply lay where he fell without moving.

“Bow, wow, wow!” cried Bowser, in
his great deep voice. Grandfather Frog
didn’t so much as blink his great goggly
eyes. Bowser sniffed him all over.

“I guess I’ve frightened him to death,”
said Bowser, talking to himself. “I
didn’t mean to do that. I just wanted
to have some fun with him.” With that,
Bowser took one more sniff and then
trotted off to try to find something more
exciting. You see, he hadn’t had the
least intention in the world of really
hurting Grandfather Frog.

Grandfather Frog kept perfectly still
until he was sure that Bowser was nowhere
near. Then he gave a great sigh
of relief and crawled under a big mullein
leaf to rest, and think things over.

“Chugarum, that was a terrible experience;
it was, indeed!” said he to
himself, shivering at the very thought
of what he had been through. “Nothing
like that ever happened to me in the
Smiling Pool. I’ve always said that the
Smiling Pool is a better place in which
to live than is the Great World, and now
I know it. The question is, what had I
best do now?”

Now right down in his heart Grandfather
Frog knew the answer. Of course
the best thing to do was to go straight
back to the Smiling Pool as fast as he
could. But Grandfather Frog is stubborn.
Yes, Sir, he certainly is stubborn.
And stubbornness is often just another

name for foolishness. He had told Jerry
Muskrat that he was going out to see
the Great World. Now if he went back,
Jerry would laugh at him.

“I won’t!” said Grandfather Frog.

“What won’t you do?” asked a voice
so close to him that Grandfather Frog
made a long jump before he thought.
You see, at the Smiling Pool he always
jumped at the least hint of danger, and
because one jump always took him into
the water, he was always safe. But
there was no water here, and that jump
took him right out where anybody passing
could see him. Then he turned
around to see who had startled him so.
It was Danny Meadow Mouse.

“I won’t go back to the Smiling Pool
until I have seen the Great World,”
replied Grandfather Frog gruffly.

“You won’t see much of the Great World if you jump like
that every time you get a scare,” said Danny. Page 62.

“You won’t see much of the Great
World if you jump like that every time

you get a scare,” said Danny, shaking
his head. “No, Sir, you won’t see much
of the Great World, because one of these
times you’ll jump right into the claws of
old Whitetail the Marsh Hawk, or his
cousin Redtail, or Reddy Fox. You
take my advice, Grandfather Frog, and
go straight back to the Smiling Pool.
You don’t know enough about the Great
World to take care of yourself.”

But Grandfather Frog was set in his
ways, and nothing that Danny Meadow
Mouse could say changed his mind in
the least. “I started out to see the
Great World, and I’m going to keep
right on,” said he.

“All right,” said Danny at last. “If
you will, I suppose you will. I’ll go a
little way with you just to get you
started right.”

“Thank you,” replied Grandfather
Frog. “Let’s start right away.”

Danny Meadow Mouse Feels Responsible

Responsible is a great big word.
But it is just as big in its meaning
as it is in its looks, and that
is the way words should be, I think, don’t
you? Anyway, re-spon-sible is the way
Danny Meadow Mouse felt when he
found Grandfather Frog out on the
Green Meadows so far from the Smiling
Pool and so stubborn that he would keep
on to see the Great World instead of
going back to his big green lily-pad in the
Smiling Pool, where he could take care
of himself. You remember Peter Rabbit
felt re-spon-sible when he brought little
Miss Fuzzy tail down from the Old Pasture

to the dear Old Briar-patch. He
felt that it was his business to see to it
that no harm came to her, and that is
just the way Danny Meadow Mouse
felt about Grandfather Frog.

You see, Danny knew that if Grandfather
Frog was going to jump like that
every time he was frightened, he wouldn’t
get very far in the Great World. It
might be the right thing to do in the
Smiling Pool, where the friendly water
would hide him from his enemies, but
it was just the wrong thing to do on the
Green Meadows or in the Green Forest.
Danny had learned, when a very tiny
fellow, that there the only safe thing to
do when danger was near was to sit perfectly
still and hardly breathe.

Now Danny Meadow Mouse is fond
of Grandfather Frog, and he couldn’t
bear to think that something dreadful
might happen to him. So when he

found that he couldn’t get Grandfather
Frog to go back to the Smiling Pool, he
made up his mind that he just had to go
along with Grandfather Frog to try to
keep him out of danger. Yes, Sir, he
just had to do it. He felt re-spon-sible
for Grandfather Frog’s safety. So here
they were, Danny Meadow Mouse running
ahead, anxious and worried and
watching sharply for signs of danger,
and Grandfather Frog puffing along behind,
bound to see the Great World
which his cousin, old Mr. Toad, said
was a better place to live in than the
Smiling Pool.

Now Danny has a great many private
little paths under the grass all over the
Green Meadows, and along these he can
scamper ever so fast without once showing
himself to those who may be looking
for him. Of course he started to take
Grandfather Frog along one of these

little paths. But Grandfather Frog
doesn’t walk or run; he jumps. There
wasn’t room in Danny’s little paths for
jumping, as they soon found out.
Grandfather Frog simply couldn’t follow
Danny along those little paths. Danny
sat down to think, and puckered his
brows anxiously. He was more worried
than ever. It was very clear that Grandfather
Frog would have to travel out
in the open, where there was room for
him to jump, and where also he would
be right out in plain sight of all who
happened along. Once more Danny
urged him to go back to the Smiling Pool,
but he might just as well have talked to
a stick or a stone. Grandfather Frog
had started out to see the Great World,
and he was going to see it.

Danny sighed. “If you will, you
will, I suppose,” said he, “and I guess
the only place you can travel in any

comfort is the Lone Little Path. It is
dangerous, very dangerous, but I guess
you will have to do it.”

“Chugarum!” replied Grandfather
Frog, “I’m not afraid. You show me
the Lone Little Path and then go about
your business, Danny Meadow Mouse.”

So Danny led the way to the Lone
Little Path, and Grandfather Frog sighed
with relief, for here he could jump without
getting all tangled up in long grass
and without hurting his tender feet on
sharp stubble where the grass had been
cut. But Danny felt more worried than
ever. He wouldn’t leave Grandfather
Frog because, you know, he felt re-spon-sible
for him, and at the same time he
was terribly afraid, for he felt sure that
some of their enemies would see them.
He wanted to go back, but he kept right
on, and that shows just what a brave
little fellow Danny Meadow Mouse was.

Grandfather Frog Has A Strange Ride

Grandfather Frog, jumping
along behind Danny Meadow
Mouse up the Lone Little Path,
was beginning to think that Danny was
the most timid and easiest frightened of
all the little meadow people of his acquaintance.
Danny kept as much under
the grass that overhung the Lone Little
Path as he could. When there were
perfectly bare places, Danny looked this
way and looked that way anxiously and
then scampered across as fast as he could

make his little legs go. When he was
safely across, he would wait for Grandfather
Frog. If a shadow passed over
the grass, Danny would duck under the
nearest leaf and hold his breath.

“Foolish!” muttered Grandfather
Frog. “Foolish, foolish to be so afraid!
Now, I’m not afraid until I see something
to be afraid of. Time enough then.
What’s the good of looking for trouble
all the time? Now, here I am out in
the Great World, and I’m not afraid.
And here’s Danny Meadow Mouse, who
has lived here all his life, acting as if he
expected something dreadful to happen
any minute. Pooh! How very, very
foolish!”

Now Grandfather Frog is old and in
the Smiling Pool he is accounted very,
very wise. But the wisest sometimes
become foolish when they think that
they know all there is to know. It was

so with Grandfather Frog. It was he
who was foolish and not Danny Meadow
Mouse. You see Danny knew all the
dangers on the Green Meadows, and how
many sharp eyes were all the time
watching for him. He had long ago
learned that the only way to feel safe
was to feel afraid. You see, then he
was watching for danger every minute,
and so he wasn’t likely to be surprised
by his hungry enemies.

So while Grandfather Frog was looking
down on Danny for being so timid,
Danny was really doing the wisest thing.
More than that, he was really very, very
brave. He was showing Grandfather
Frog the way up the Lone Little Path to
see the Great World, when he himself
would never, never have thought of
traveling anywhere but along his own
secret little paths, just because Grandfather
Frog couldn’t jump anywhere

excepting where the way was fairly clear,
as in the Lone Little Path, and Danny
was afraid that unless Grandfather Frog
had some one with him to watch out for
him, he would surely come to a sad end.

The farther they went with nothing
happening, the more foolish Danny’s
timid way of running and hiding seemed
to Grandfather Frog, and he was just
about to tell Danny just what he thought,
when Danny dived into the long grass
and warned Grandfather Frog to do
the same. But Grandfather Frog didn’t.

“Chugarum!” said he, “I don’t see
anything to be afraid of, and I’m not
going to hide until I do.”

So he sat still right where he was, in
the middle of the Lone Little Path, looking
this way and that way, and seeing
nothing to be afraid of. And just then
around a turn in the Lone Little Path
came—who do you think? Why

Farmer Brown’s boy! He saw Grandfather
Frog and with a whoop of joy
he sprang for him. Grandfather Frog
gave a frightened croak and jumped,
but he was too late. Before he could
jump again Farmer Brown’s boy had
him by his long hind-legs.

“Ha, ha!” shouted Farmer Brown’s
boy, “I believe this is the very old chap
I have tried so often to catch in the
Smiling Pool. These legs of yours will
be mighty fine eating, Mr. Frog. They
will, indeed.”

With that he tied Grandfather Frog’s
legs together and went on his way across
the Green Meadows with poor old Grandfather
Frog dangling from the end of a
string. It was a strange ride and a most
uncomfortable one, and with all his
might Grandfather Frog wished he had
never thought of going out into the
Great World.

Grandfather Frog Gives Up Hope

With his legs tied together, hanging
head down from the end of
a string, Grandfather Frog was
being carried he knew not where by
Farmer Brown’s boy. It was dreadful.
Half-way across the Green Meadows the
Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West
Wind came dancing along. At first they
didn’t see Grandfather Frog, but presently
one of them, rushing up to tease
Farmer Brown’s boy by blowing off his
hat, caught sight of Grandfather Frog.

Now the Merry Little Breezes are
great friends of Grandfather Frog.
Many, many times they have blown
foolish green flies over to him as he sat

on his big green lily-pad, and they are
very fond of him. So when this one
caught sight of him in such a dreadful
position, he forgot all about teasing
Farmer Brown’s boy. He raced away
to tell the other Merry Little Breezes.
For a minute they were perfectly still.
They forgot all about being merry.

“It’s awful, just perfectly awful!”
cried one.

“We must do something to help
Grandfather Frog!” cried another.

“Of course we must,” said a third.

“But what can we do?” asked a
fourth.

Nobody replied. They just thought
and thought and thought. Finally the
first one spoke. “We might try to
comfort him a little,” said he.

“Of course we will do that!” they
shouted all together.

“And if we throw dust in the face of

Farmer Brown’s boy and steal his hat,
perhaps he will put Grandfather Frog
down,” continued the Merry Little
Breeze.

“The very thing!” the others cried,
dancing about with excitement.

“Then we can rush about and tell all
Grandfather Frog’s friends what has
happened to him and where he is. Perhaps
some of them can help us,” the
Little Breeze continued.

They wasted no more time talking,
but raced after Farmer Brown’s boy as
fast as they could go. One of them, who
was faster than the others, ran ahead
and whispered in Grandfather Frog’s ear
that they were coming to help him. But
poor old Grandfather Frog couldn’t be
comforted. He couldn’t see what there
was that the Merry Little Breezes could
do. His legs smarted where the string
cut into the skin, and his head ached,

for you know he was hanging head down.
No, Sir, Grandfather Frog couldn’t be
comforted. He was in a terrible fix, and
he couldn’t see any way out of it. He
hadn’t the least bit of hope left. And
all the time Farmer Brown’s boy was
trudging along, whistling merrily. You
see, it didn’t occur to him to think how
Grandfather Frog must be suffering and
how terribly frightened he must be.
He wasn’t cruel. No, indeed, Farmer
Brown’s boy wasn’t cruel. That is, he
didn’t mean to be cruel. He was just
thoughtless, like a great many other
boys, and girls too.

So he went whistling on his way until
he reached the Long Lane leading from
the Green Meadows up to Farmer
Brown’s dooryard. No sooner was he
in the Long Lane than something happened.
A great cloud of dust and leaves
and tiny sticks was dashed in his face

and nearly choked him. Dirt got in his
eyes. His hat was snatched from his
head and went sailing over into the
garden. He dropped Grandfather Frog
and felt for his handkerchief to wipe the
dirt from his eyes.

“Phew!” exclaimed Farmer Brown’s
boy, as he started after his hat. “It’s
funny where that wind came from so
suddenly!”

But you know and I know that it was
the Merry Little Breezes working together
who made up that sudden wind.
And Grandfather Frog ought to have
known it too, but he didn’t. You see
the dust had got in his nose and eyes
just as it had in those of Farmer Brown’s
boy, and he was so frightened and confused
that he couldn’t think. So he
lay just where Farmer Brown’s boy
dropped him, and he didn’t have any
more hope than before.

The Merry Little Breezes Work Hard

The Merry Little Breezes almost
shouted aloud with delight when
they saw Farmer Brown’s boy
drop Grandfather Frog to feel for his
handkerchief and wipe out the dust
which they had thrown in his eyes. Then
he had to climb the fence and chase his
hat through the garden. They would
let him almost get his hands on it and
then, just as he thought that he surely
had it, they would snatch it away. It
was great fun for the Merry Little
Breezes. But they were not doing it for
fun. No, indeed, they were not doing
it for fun! They were doing it to lead
Farmer Brown’s boy away from Grandfather
Frog.

Just as soon as they dared, they
dropped the hat and then separated and
rushed away in all directions across the
Green Meadows, over to the Green
Forest, and down to the Smiling Pool.
What were they going for? Why, to
hunt for some of Grandfather Frog’s
friends and ask their help. You see, the
Merry Little Breezes could make Farmer
Brown’s boy drop Grandfather Frog,
but they couldn’t untie a knot or cut a
string, and this is just what had got to
be done to set Grandfather Frog free,
for his hind-legs were tied together. So
now they were looking for some one with
sharp teeth, who thought enough of
Grandfather Frog to come and help him.

One thought of Striped Chipmunk and
started for the old stone wall to look for
him. Another went in search of Danny
Meadow Mouse. A third headed for the
dear Old Briar-patch after Peter Rabbit.

A fourth remembered Jimmy Skunk
and how he had once set Blacky the
Crow free from a snare. A fifth remembered
what sharp teeth Happy Jack
Squirrel has and hurried over to the
Green Forest to look for him. A sixth
started straight for the Smiling Pool to
tell Jerry Muskrat. And every one of
them raced as fast as he could.

All this time Grandfather Frog was
without hope. Yes, Sir, poor old Grandfather
Frog was wholly in despair. You
see, he didn’t know what the Merry
Little Breezes were trying to do, and he
was so frightened and confused that he
couldn’t think. When Farmer Brown’s
boy dropped him, he lay right where he
fell for a few minutes. Then, right close
at hand, he saw an old board. Without
really thinking, he tried to get to it, for
there looked as if there might be room
for him to hide under it. It was hard

work, for you know his long hind-legs,
which he uses for jumping, were tied together.
The best he could do was to
crawl and wriggle and pull himself along.
Just as Farmer Brown’s boy started to
climb the fence back into the Long Lane,
his hat in his hand, Grandfather Frog
reached the old board and crawled under
it.

Now when the Merry Little Breezes
had thrown the dust in Farmer Brown’s
boy’s face and snatched his hat, he had
dropped Grandfather Frog in such a
hurry that he didn’t notice just where he
did drop him, so now he didn’t know
the exact place to look for him. But he
knew pretty near, and he hadn’t the
least doubt but that he would find him.
He had just started to look when the
dinner horn sounded. Farmer Brown’s
boy hesitated. He was hungry. If he
was late, he might lose his dinner. He

could come back later to look for Grandfather
Frog, for with his legs tied Grandfather
Frog couldn’t get far. So, with a
last look to make sure of the place,
Farmer Brown’s boy started for the
house.

If the Merry Little Breezes had known
this, they would have felt ever so much
better. But they didn’t. So they hurried
as fast as ever they could to find
Grandfather Frog’s friends and worked
until they were almost too tired to move,
for it seemed as if every single one of
Grandfather Frog’s friends had taken
that particular day to go away from
home. So while Farmer Brown’s boy
ate his dinner, and Grandfather Frog
lay hiding under the old board in the
Long Lane, the Merry Little Breezes
did their best to find help for him.

Striped Chipmunk Cuts The String

Striped Chipmunk knew perfectly
well that that was just
nonsense, but Striped Chipmunk
learned a long time ago that when you
are just bubbling right over with good
feeling, there is fun in saying and doing
foolish things, and that is just how he
was feeling. So he ran along the old
rail fence on one side of the Long Lane,
saying foolish things and cutting up
foolish capers just because he felt so
good, and all the time seeing all that

those bright little eyes of his could take
in.

Now Striped Chipmunk and the
Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother
West Wind are great friends, very great
friends, indeed. Almost every morning
they have a grand frolic together. But
this morning the Merry Little Breezes
hadn’t come over to the old stone wall
where Striped Chipmunk makes his
home. Anyway, they hadn’t come at
the usual time. Striped Chipmunk had
waited a little while and then, because
he was feeling so good, he had decided
to take a run down the Long Lane to
see if anything new had happened there.
That is how it happened that when
one of the Merry Little Breezes did go
to look for him, and was terribly anxious
to ask him to come to the help of
Grandfather Frog, he was nowhere to
be found.

But Striped Chipmunk didn’t know
anything about that. He scampered
along the top rails of the old fence,
jumped up on top of a post, and sat up
to wash his face and hands, for Striped
Chipmunk is very neat and cannot
bear to be the least bit dirty. He looked
up and winked at Ol’ Mistah Buzzard,
sailing round and round way, way up
in the blue, blue sky. He chased his
own tail round and round until he
nearly fell off of the post. He made
a wry face in the direction of Redtail
the Hawk, whom he could see sitting
in the top of a tall tree way over on the
Green Meadows. He scolded Bowser
the Hound, who happened to come trotting
up the Long Lane, and didn’t stop
scolding until Bowser was out of sight.
Then he kicked up his heels and whisked
along the old fence again.

Half-way across a shaky old rail, he

suddenly stopped. His bright eyes had
seen something that filled him with
curiosity, quite as much curiosity as
Peter Rabbit would have had. It was
a piece of string. Yes, Sir, it was a
piece of string. Now Striped Chipmunk
often had found pieces of string,
so there was nothing particularly interesting
in the string itself. What did
interest him and make him very curious
was the fact that this piece of string
kept moving. Every few seconds it
gave a little jerk. Whoever heard of
a piece of string moving all by itself?
Certainly Striped Chipmunk never had.
He couldn’t understand it.

For a few minutes he watched it from
the top rail of the old fence. Then he
scurried down to the ground and, a
few steps at a time, stopping to watch
sharply between each little run, he
drew nearer and nearer to that queer

acting string. It gave him a funny
feeling inside to see a string acting like
that, so he was very careful not to get
too near. He looked at it from one
side, then ran around and looked at it
from the other side. At last he got
where he could see that one end of the
string was under an old board, and then
he began to understand. Of course there
was somebody hiding under that old
board and jerking the string.

He seized the other end of the string and began to pull.
Page 88.

Striped Chipmunk sat down and
scratched his head thoughtfully. Whoever
was pulling that string couldn’t
be very big, or they would never have
been able to crawl under that old board,
therefore he needn’t be afraid. A gleam
of mischief twinkled in Striped Chipmunk’s
eyes. He seized the other end
of the string and began to pull. Such a
jerking and yanking as began right
away! But he held on and pulled

harder. Then out from under the old
board appeared the queer webbed feet
of Grandfather Frog tied together.
Striped Chipmunk was so surprised that
he let go of the string and nearly fell
over backward.

“Why, Grandfather Frog, what under
the sun are you doing here?” he shouted.

When Striped Chipmunk let go of the
string, Grandfather Frog promptly drew
his feet back under the old board, but
when he heard Striped Chipmunk’s voice,
he slowly and painfully crawled out. He
told how he had been caught and tied
by Farmer Brown’s boy and finally
dropped near the old board. He told
how terribly frightened he was, and how
sore his legs were. Striped Chipmunk
didn’t wait for him to finish. In a flash
he was at work with his sharp teeth
and had cut the cruel string before
Grandfather Frog had finished his story.

Grandfather Frog Hurries Away

When Striped Chipmunk cut the
string that bound the long legs
of Grandfather Frog together,
Grandfather Frog was so relieved that
he hardly knew what to do. Of course
he thanked Striped Chipmunk over and
over again. Striped Chipmunk said that
it was nothing, just nothing at all, and
that he was very glad indeed to help
Grandfather Frog.

“We folks who live out in the Great
World have to help one another,” said
Striped Chipmunk, “because we never
know when we may need help ourselves.
Now you take my advice, Grandfather
Frog, and go back to the Smiling Pool

as fast as you can. The Great World is
no place for an old fellow like you, because
you don’t know how to take care
of yourself.”

Now when he said that, Striped Chipmunk
made a great mistake. Old people
never like to be told that they are old
or that they do not know all there is to
know. Grandfather Frog straightened
up and tried to look very dignified.

“Chugarum!” said he, “I’d have
you to know, Striped Chipmunk, that
people were coming to me for advice
before you were born. It was just an
accident that Farmer Brown’s boy caught
me, and I’d like to see him do it again.
Yes, Sir, I’d like to see him do it again!”

Dear me, dear me! Grandfather Frog
was boasting. If he had been safe at
home in the Smiling Pool, there might
have been some excuse for boasting, but
way over here in the Long Lane, not

even knowing the way back to the
Smiling Pool, it was foolish, very foolish
indeed. No one knew that better than
Striped Chipmunk, but he has a great
deal of respect for Grandfather Frog,
and he knew too that Grandfather Frog
was feeling very much out of sorts and
very much mortified to think that he
had been caught in such a scrape, so he
put a hand over his mouth to hide a
smile as he said:

“Of course he isn’t going to catch you
again. I know how wise and smart you
are, but you look to me very tired, and
there are so many dangers out here in
the Great World that it seems to me
that the very best thing you can do is
to go back to the Smiling Pool.”

But Grandfather Frog is stubborn,
you know. He had started out to see
the Great World, and he didn’t want
the little people of the Green Meadows

and the Green Forest to think that he
was afraid. The truth is, Grandfather
Frog was more afraid of being laughed
at than he was of the dangers around
him, which shows just how foolish wise
people can be sometimes. So he shook
his head.

“Chugarum!” said he, “I am going
to see the Great World first, and then I
am going back to the Smiling Pool. Do
you happen to know where there is any
water? I am very thirsty.”

Now over on the other side of the Long
Lane was a spring where Farmer Brown’s
boy filled his jug with clear cold water
to take with him to the cornfield when
he had to work there. Striped Chipmunk
knew all about that spring, for he
had been there for a drink many times.
So he told Grandfather Frog just where
the spring was and how to get to it. He
even offered to show the way, but Grandfather

Frog said that he would rather go
alone.

“Watch out, Grandfather Frog, and
don’t fall in, because you might not be
able to get out again,” warned Striped
Chipmunk.

Grandfather Frog looked up sharply to
see if Striped Chipmunk was making
fun of him. The very idea of any one
thinking that he, who had lived in the
water all his life, couldn’t get out when
he pleased! But Striped Chipmunk
looked really in earnest, so Grandfather
Frog swallowed the quick retort on the
tip of his tongue, thanked Striped Chipmunk,
and hurried away to look for the
spring, for he was very, very thirsty.
Besides, he was very, very hot, and he
hurried still faster as he thought of the
cool bath he would have when he found
that spring.

Grandfather Frog Jumps Into More Trouble

Some people are heedless and run
into trouble. Some people are stupid
and walk into trouble. Grandfather
Frog was both heedless and stupid
and jumped into trouble. When Striped
Chipmunk told him where the spring
was, it seemed to him that he couldn’t
wait to reach it. You see, Grandfather
Frog had spent all his life in the Smiling
Pool, where he could get a drink whenever
he wanted it by just reaching over
the edge of his big green lily-pad. Whenever
he was too warm, all he had to do
was to say “Chugarum!” and dive head
first into the cool water. So he wasn’t
used to going a long time without water.

Jump, jump, jump! Grandfather Frog
was going as fast as ever he could in the
direction Striped Chipmunk had pointed
out. Every three or four jumps he would
stop for just a wee, wee bit of rest, then
off he would go again, jump, jump,
jump! And each jump was a long one.
Peter Rabbit certainly would have been
envious if he could have seen those long
jumps of Grandfather Frog.

At last the ground began to grow
damp. The farther he went, the damper
it grew. Presently it became fairly wet,
and there was a great deal of soft, cool,
wet moss. How good it did feel to
Grandfather Frog’s poor tired feet!

“Must be I’m most there,” said
Grandfather Frog to himself, as he
scrambled up on a big mossy hummock,
so as to look around. Right away he
saw a little path from the direction of
the Long Lane. It led straight past the

very hummock on which Grandfather
Frog was sitting, and he noticed that
where the ground was very soft and wet,
old boards had been laid down. That
puzzled Grandfather Frog a great deal.

“It’s a sure enough path,” said he.
“But what under the blue, blue sky does
any one want to spoil it for by putting
those boards there?”

You see, Grandfather Frog likes the
soft wet mud, and he couldn’t understand
how any one, even Farmer Brown’s
boy, could prefer a hard dry path. Of
course he never had worn shoes himself,
so he couldn’t understand why any one
should want dry feet when they could
just as well have wet ones. He was still
puzzling over it when he heard a sound
that made him nearly lose his balance
and tumble off the hummock. It was a
whistle, the whistle of Farmer Brown’s
boy! Grandfather Frog knew it right

away, because he often had heard it over
by the Smiling Pool. The whistle came
from over in the Long Lane. Farmer
Brown’s boy had had his dinner and was
on his way back to look for Grandfather
Frog where he had been dropped.

Grandfather Frog actually grinned as
he thought how surprised Farmer
Brown’s boy was going to be when he
could find no trace of him. Suddenly
the smile seemed to freeze on Grandfather
Frog’s face. That whistle was
coming nearer! Farmer Brown’s boy
had left the Long Lane and was coming
along the little path. The truth
is, he was coming for a drink at the
spring, but Grandfather Frog didn’t
think of this. He was sure that in some
way Farmer Brown’s boy had found out
which way he had gone and was coming
after him. He crouched down as flat
as he could on the big hummock and

held his breath. Farmer Brown’s boy
went straight past. Just a few steps
beyond, he stopped and knelt down.
Peeping through the grass, Grandfather
Frog saw him dip up beautiful clear
water in an old cup and drink. Then
Grandfather Frog knew just where the
spring was.

A few minutes later, Farmer Brown’s
boy passed again, still whistling, on his
way to the Long Lane. Grandfather
Frog waited only long enough to be sure
that he had really gone. Then, with
bigger jumps than ever, he started for
the spring. A dozen long jumps, and he
could see the water. Two more jumps
and then a long jump, and he had landed
in the spring with a splash!

“Chugarum!” cried Grandfather
Frog. “How good the water feels!”

And all the time, Grandfather Frog
had jumped straight into more trouble.

Grandfather Frog Loses Heart

That is the very best kind of
advice, but most people find that
out when it is too late. Grandfather
Frog did. Of course he had heard
that little verse all his life. Indeed, he
had been very fond of saying it to those
who came to the Smiling Pool to ask his
advice. But Grandfather Frog seemed
to have left all his wisdom behind him
when he left the Smiling Pool to go out
into the Great World. You see, it is very
hard work for any one whose advice has
been sought to turn right around and
take advice themselves. So Grandfather

Frog had been getting into scrapes ever
since he started out on his foolish journey,
and now here he was in still another,
and he had landed in it head first, with
a great splash.

Of course, when he had seen the cool,
sparkling water of the spring, it had
seemed to him that he just couldn’t
wait another second to get into it. He
was so hot and dry and dreadfully thirsty
and uncomfortable! And so—oh, dear
me!—Grandfather Frog didn’t look at
all before he leaped. No, Sir, he didn’t!
He just dived in with a great long jump.
Oh, how good that water felt! For a
few minutes he couldn’t think of anything
else. It was cooler than the water
of the Smiling Pool, because, as you
know, it was a spring. But it felt all the
better for that, and Grandfather Frog
just closed his eyes and floated there in
pure happiness.

Presently he opened his eyes to look
around. Then he blinked them rapidly
for a minute or so. He rubbed them to
make sure that he saw aright. His heart
seemed to sink way, way down towards
his toes. “Chugarum!” exclaimed
Grandfather Frog, “Chugarum!” And
after that for a long time he didn’t say a
word.

You see, it was this way. All around
him rose perfectly straight smooth walls.
He could look up and see a little of the
blue, blue sky right overhead and whispering
leaves of trees and bushes. Over
the edge of the smooth straight wall
grasses were bending. But they were so
far above his head, so dreadfully far!
There wasn’t any place to climb out!
Grandfather Frog was in a prison! He
didn’t understand it at all, but it was so.

Of course, Farmer Brown’s boy could
have told him all about it. A long time

before Farmer Brown himself had found
that spring, and because the water was
so clear and cold and pure, he had cleared
away all the dirt and rubbish around it.
Then he had knocked the bottom out of
a nice clean barrel and had dug down
where the water bubbled up out of the
sand and had set the barrel down in this
hole and had filled in the bottom with
clean white sand for the water to bubble
up through. About half-way up the
barrel he had cut a little hole for the
water to run out as fast as it bubbled
in at the bottom. Of course the water
never could fill the barrel, because when
it reached that hole, it ran out. This
left a straight, smooth wall up above, a
wall altogether too high for Grandfather
Frog to jump over from the inside.

Poor old Grandfather Frog! He wished
more than ever that he never, never had
thought of leaving the Smiling Pool to

see the Great World. Round and round
he swam, but he couldn’t see any way out
of it. The little hole where the water
ran out was too small for him to squeeze
through, as he found out by trying and
trying. So far as he could see, he had
just got to stay there all the rest of his
life. Worse still, he knew that Farmer
Brown’s boy sometimes came to the
spring for a drink, for he had seen him
do it. That meant that the very next
time he came, he would find Grandfather
Frog, because there was no place to hide.
When Grandfather Frog thought of that,
he just lost heart. Yes, Sir, he just lost
heart. He gave up all hope of ever seeing
the Smiling Pool again, and two big
tears ran out of his big goggly eyes.

The Merry Little Breezes Try To Comfort Grandfather Frog

When the Merry Little Breezes
of Old Mother West Wind had
left Grandfather Frog in the
Long Lane where Farmer Brown’s boy
had dropped him, and had hurried as
fast as ever they could to try to find
some of his friends to help him, not one
of them had been successful. No one was
at home, and no one was in any of the
places where they usually were to be
found. The Merry Little Breezes looked
and looked. Then, one by one, they
sadly turned back to the Long Lane.
They felt so badly that they just hated
to go back where they had left Grandfather
Frog.

When they got there, they found
Striped Chipmunk, who now was scolding
Farmer Brown’s boy as fast as his
tongue could go.

“Where is he?” cried the Merry
Little Breezes excitedly.

Striped Chipmunk stopped scolding
long enough to point to Farmer Brown’s
boy, who was hunting in the grass for
some trace of Grandfather Frog.

“We don’t mean him, you stupid! We
can see him for ourselves. Where’s
Grandfather Frog?” cried the Merry
Little Breezes, all speaking at once.

“I don’t know,” replied Striped Chipmunk,
“and what’s more, I don’t care!”

Now this wasn’t true, for Striped Chipmunk
isn’t that kind. It was mostly
talk, and the Merry Little Breezes knew
it. They knew that Striped Chipmunk
really thinks a great deal of Grandfather
Frog, just as they do. So they pretended

not to notice what he said or how put
out he seemed. After a while, he told
them that he had set Grandfather Frog
free and that then he had started for
the spring on the other side of the Long
Lane. The Merry Little Breezes were
delighted to hear the good news, and
they said such a lot of nice things to
Striped Chipmunk that he quite forgot
to scold Farmer Brown’s boy. Then
they started for the spring, dancing
merrily, for they felt sure that there
Grandfather Frog was all right, and they
expected to find him quite at home.

“Hello, Grandfather Frog!” they
shouted, as they peeped into the spring.
“How do you like your new home?”

Grandfather Frog made no reply. He
just rolled his great goggly eyes up at
them, and they were full of tears.

“Why—why—why, Grandfather
Frog, what is the matter now?” they
cried.

“Chugarum,” said Grandfather Frog,
and his voice sounded all choky, “I can’t
get out.”

Then they noticed for the first time
how straight and smooth the walls of
the spring were and how far down
Grandfather Frog was, and they knew
that he spoke the truth. They tried
bending down the grasses that grew
around the edge of the spring, but none
were long enough to reach the water.
If they had stopped to think, they would
have known that Grandfather Frog
couldn’t have climbed up by them, anyway.
Then they tried to lift a big stick
into the spring, but it was too heavy for
them, and they couldn’t move it. However,
they did manage to blow an old
shingle in, and this gave Grandfather
Frog something to sit on, so that he began
to feel a little better. Then they
said all the comforting things they could

think of. They told him that no harm
could come to him there, unless Farmer
Brown’s boy should happen to see
him.

“That’s just what I’m afraid of!” croaked Grandfather
Frog. Page 109.

“That’s just what I am afraid of!”
croaked Grandfather Frog. “He is sure
to see me if he comes for a drink, for
there is no place for me to hide.”

“Perhaps he won’t come,” said one
of the Little Breezes hopefully.

“If he does come, you can hide under
the piece of shingle, and then he won’t
know you are here at all,” said another.

Grandfather Frog brightened up.
“That’s so!” said he. “That’s a good
idea, and I’ll try it.”

Then one of the Merry Little Breezes
promised to keep watch for Farmer
Brown’s boy, and all the others started
off on another hunt for some one to
help Grandfather Frog out of this new
trouble.

Grandfather Frog’s Troubles Grow

Grandfather Frog had had
plenty of time to realize how very
true this is. As he sat on the old
shingle which the Merry Little Breezes
had blown into the spring where he was
a prisoner, he thought a great deal about
that little word “if.” If he hadn’t left
the Smiling Pool, if he hadn’t been stubborn
and set in his ways, if he hadn’t
been in such a hurry, if he had looked to
see where he was leaping—well, any one
of these ifs would have kept him out of
his present trouble.

It really wasn’t so bad in the spring.

That is, it wouldn’t have been so bad
but for the fear that Farmer Brown’s
boy might come for a drink and find him
there. That was Grandfather Frog’s
one great fear, and it gave him bad
dreams whenever he tried to take a nap.
He grew cold all over at the very thought
of being caught again by Farmer Brown’s
boy, and when at last one of the Merry
Little Breezes hurried up to tell him that
Farmer Brown’s boy actually was coming,
poor old Grandfather Frog was so
frightened that the Merry Little Breeze
had to tell him twice to hide under the
old shingle as it floated on the water.

At last he got it through his head, and
drawing a very long breath, he dived
into the water and swam under the old
shingle. He was just in time. Yes, Sir,
he was just in time. If Farmer Brown’s
boy hadn’t been thinking of something
else, he certainly would have noticed the

little rings on the water made by Grandfather
Frog when he dived in. But he
was thinking of something else, and it
wasn’t until he dipped a cup in for the
second time that he even saw the old
shingle.

“Hello!” he exclaimed. “That must
have blown in since I was here yesterday.
We can’t have anything like that in our
nice spring.”

With that he reached out for the old
shingle, and Grandfather Frog, hiding
under it, gave himself up for lost. But
the anxious Little Breeze had been
watching sharply and the instant he saw
what Farmer Brown’s boy was going to
do, he played the old, old trick of snatching
his hat from his head. The truth is,
he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Farmer Brown’s boy grabbed at his
hat, and then, because he was in a hurry
and had other things to do, he started off

without once thinking of the old shingle
again.

“Chugarum!” cried Grandfather
Frog, as he swam out from under the
shingle and climbed up on it, “That
certainly was a close call. If I have
many more like it, I certainly shall die
of fright.”

Nothing more happened for a long
time, and Grandfather Frog was wondering
if it wouldn’t be safe to take a nap
when he saw peeping over the edge above
him two eyes. They were greenish
yellow eyes, and they stared and stared.
Grandfather Frog stared and stared back.
He just couldn’t help it. He didn’t
know who they belonged to. He couldn’t
remember ever having seen them before.
He was afraid, and yet somehow he
couldn’t make up his mind to jump. He
stared so hard at the eyes that he didn’t
notice a long furry paw slowly, very

slowly, reaching down towards him.
Nearer it crept and nearer. Then suddenly
it moved like a flash. Grandfather
Frog felt sharp claws in his white and
yellow waistcoat, and before he could
even open his mouth to cry “Chugarum,”
he was sent flying through the
air and landed on his back in the grass.
Pounce! Two paws pinned him down,
and the greenish yellow eyes were not
an inch from his own. They belonged to
Black Pussy, Farmer Brown’s cat.

The Dear Old Smiling Pool Once More

Black Pussy was having a good
time. Grandfather Frog wasn’t.
It was great fun for Black Pussy
to slip a paw under Grandfather Frog
and toss him up in the air. It was still
more fun to pretend to go away, but to
hide instead, and the instant Grandfather
Frog started off, to pounce upon
him and cuff him and roll him about.
But there wasn’t any fun in it for Grandfather
Frog. In the first place, he didn’t
know whether or not Black Pussy liked
Frogs to eat, and he was terribly frightened.
In the second place, Black Pussy
didn’t always cover up her claws, and
they pricked right through Grandfather

Frog’s white and yellow waistcoat and
hurt, for he is very tender there.

At last Black Pussy grew tired of
playing, so catching up Grandfather
Frog in her mouth, she started along the
little path from the spring to the Long
Lane. Grandfather Frog didn’t even
kick, which was just as well, because if
he had, Black Pussy would have held
him tighter, and that would have been
very uncomfortable indeed.

“It’s all over, and this is the end,”
moaned Grandfather Frog. “I’m going
to be eaten now. Oh, why, why did I
ever leave the Smiling Pool?”

Just as Black Pussy slipped into the
Long Lane, Grandfather Frog heard a
familiar sound. It was a whistle, a merry
whistle. It was the whistle of Farmer
Brown’s boy. It was coming nearer and
nearer. A little bit of hope began to
stir in the heart of Grandfather Frog.

He didn’t know just why, but it did.
Always he had been in the greatest fear
of Farmer Brown’s boy, but now—well,
if Farmer Brown’s boy should take him,
he might get away from him as he did
before, but he was very sure that he
never, never could get away from Black
Pussy.

The whistle drew nearer. Black Pussy
stopped. Then she began to make a
queer whirring sound deep down in her
throat.

“Hello, Black Pussy! Have you been
hunting? Come here and show me
what you’ve got,” cried a voice.

Black Pussy arched up her back and
began to rub against the legs of Farmer
Brown’s boy, and all the time the whir,
ring sound in her throat grew louder and
louder. Farmer Brown’s boy stooped
down to see what she had in her
mouth.

“Why,” he exclaimed, “I do believe
this is the very same old frog that got
away from me! You don’t want him,
Puss. I’ll just put him in my pocket and
take him up to the house by and by.”

With that he took Grandfather Frog
from Black Pussy and dropped him in
his pocket. He patted Black Pussy,
called her a smart cat, and then started
on his way, whistling merrily. It was
dark and rather close in that pocket,
but Grandfather Frog didn’t mind this.
It was a lot better than feeling sharp
teeth and claws all the time. He wondered
how soon they would reach the
house and what would happen to him
then. After what seemed like a long,
long time, he felt himself swung through
the air, and then he landed on the
ground with a thump that made him
grunt. Farmer Brown’s boy had taken
off his coat and thrown it down.

The whistling stopped. Everything
was quiet. Grandfather Frog waited
and listened, but not a sound could he
hear. Then he saw a little ray of light
creeping into his prison. He squirmed
and pushed, and all of a sudden he was
out of the pocket. The bright light made
him blink. As soon as he could see, he
looked to see where he was. Then he
rubbed his eyes with both hands and
looked again. He wasn’t at Farmer
Brown’s house at all. Where do you
think he was? Why, right on the bank
of the Smiling Pool, and a little way off
was Farmer Brown’s boy fishing!

“Chugarum!” cried Grandfather
Frog, and it was the loudest, gladdest
chugarum that the Smiling Pool ever
had heard. “Chugarum!” he cried
again, and with a great leap he dived
with a splash into the dear old Smiling
Pool, which smiled more than ever.

And never again has Grandfather Frog
tried to see the Great World. He is
quite content to leave it to those who
like to dwell there. And since his own
wonderful adventures, he has been ready
to believe anything he is told about
what happens there. Nothing can surprise
him, not even the astonishing things
that happened to Chatterer the Red
Squirrel, about which it takes a whole
book to tell.