STORY VGRANDPA CROAKER DIGS A WELL
It happened, once upon a time when Mrs. No-Tail, the frog lady, went to the pump to get some water for supper, that a little fish jumped out of the pump spout and nearly bit her on the nose.
“Ha! That is very odd,” she said. “There must be fish in our well, and in that case I think we had better have a new one.”
So that night, when Mr. No-Tail came home from the wallpaper factory, where he stepped into ink and then hopped all over white paper to make funny patterns on it—that night, I say, Mrs. No-Tail said to her husband:
“I think we will have to get a new well.” Then she told him about the fish from the pump nearly biting her, and Mr. No-Tail remarked:
“Yes, I think we had better have a new place to get our water, for the fish in the old well may drink it all up.”
“Well, well!” exclaimed Grandpa Croaker in such a deep bass voice that he made the dishpanon the gas stove rattle as loudly as if Bully or Bawly were drumming on it with a wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey. “Let me dig the well,” went on the old gentleman frog. “I just love to shovel the dirt, and I can dig a well so deep that no fish will ever get into it.”
“Very well,” said Mr. No-Tail. “You may start in the morning, and Bully and Bawly can help you, as it will be Saturday and there is no school.”
Well, the next morning Grandpa Croaker started in. He marked a nice round circle on the ground in the back yard, because he wanted a round well, and not a square one, you see; and then he began to dig. At first there was nothing for Bully and Bawly to do, as when he was near the top of the well their Grandpa could easily throw the dirt out himself. But when he had dug down quite a distance it was harder work, to toss up the dirt, so Grandpa Croaker told the boys to get a rope, and a hook and some pails.
The hook was fastened to one end of the rope, and then a pail was put on the hook. Then the pail was lowered into the well, down to where Grandpa Croaker was working. He filled the pail with dirt, and Bully and Bawly hauled it up and emptied it.
“Oh, this is lots of fun!” exclaimed Bully, ashe and his brother pulled on the rope. “It’s as much fun as playing baseball.”
“I think so, too,” agreed Bawly. Then Sammie Littletail, the rabbit boy, came along, and so did Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow, the puppy dogs. They wanted to help pull up the dirt, so Bully and Bawly let them after Sammie had given the frog brothers a nice marble, and Peetie and Jackie each a stick of chewing gum.
Grandpa Croaker kept on digging the well, and the frog boys and their friends pulled up the dirt, and pretty soon the hole in the ground was so deep and dark that, by looking up straight, from down at the bottom of it, the old gentleman frog could see the stars, and part of the moon, in the sky, even if it was daylight.
Then he dug some more, and, all of a sudden, his shovel went down into some water, and then Grandpa Croaker knew that the well was almost finished. He dug out a little more earth, in came more water, wetting his feet, and then the frog well-digger cried:
“I’ve struck water! I’ve struck water!”
“Hurrah!” shouted Bawly.
“Hurray! Hurray!” exclaimed Bully, and they were so happy that they danced up and down. Then Sammie Little-Tail and Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow grew so excited and delightedthat they ran off to tell all their friends about Grandpa Croaker digging a well. That left Bully and Bawly all alone up at the edge of the big hole in the ground, at the bottom of which was their grandpa.
“Let’s have another little dance!” suggested Bully.
“No,” replied Bawly, “let’s jump down the well and have a drink of the new water that hasn’t any fishes in it.”
So, without thinking what they were doing, down they leaped into the well, almost failing on Grandpa Croaker’s bald head, and carrying down with them the rope, by which they had been pulling up the pails of dirt. Into the water they popped, and each one took a big drink.
“Well, now you’ve done it!” cried Grandpa Croaker, as he leaned on his shovel and looked at his two grandsons.
“Why, what is the matter?” asked Bully, splashing some water on Bawly’s nose.
“Yes. All we did was to jump down here,” added Bawly. “What’s wrong?”
“Why that leaves no one above on the ground to help me get up,” said the old gentleman frog. “I was depending on you to haul me up by the rope, and here you jump down, and pull the rope with you. It’s as bad as when Uncle Wiggilywas on the roof, only he was up and couldn’t get down, and we’re down and can’t get up.”
“Oh, I think I can jump to the top of the well and take the rope with me. If I can’t take this rope I’ll get another and pull you both up,” said Bully. So he hopped and he hopped, but he couldn’t hop to the top of the well. Every time he tried it, he fell back into the water, ker-slash!
“Let me try,” said his brother. But it was just the same with Bawly. Back he sploshed-splashed into the well-water, getting all wet.
“Now we’ll never get out of here,” said Grandpa Croaker sadly. “I wish you boys would think a little more, and not do things so quickly.”
“We will—next time,” promised Bawly as he gave another big jump, but he came nowhere near the top of the well.
Then it began to look as if they would have to stay down there forever, for no one came to pull them out.
“Let’s call for help,” suggested Bully. So he and Bawly called as loud as they could, and so did Grandpa Croaker. But the well was so deep, and their voices sounded so loud and rumbling, coming out of the hole in the ground, that every one thought it was thunder. And the animal people feared it would rain, so they all ran home, and noone thought of grandpa and the two frog boys in the deep well.
But at last along came Alice Wibblewobble, and, being a duck, she didn’t mind a thunder storm. So she didn’t run away, and she heard Grandpa Croaker and Bully and Bawly calling for help at the bottom of the well. She asked what was the trouble, and Bully told her what had happened.
“Oh, you silly boys, to jump down a well!” exclaimed Alice. “But never fear, I’ll help you up.” So they never feared, and Alice got a rope and lowered it down to them, and then, with the help of her brother Jimmie and her sister Lulu, she pulled all three frogs up from the well, and they lived happy for ever after, and drank the water that had no fishes in it.
Now if the faucet in the kitchen sink doesn’t turn upside down, and squirt the water on the ceiling and into the cat’s eye, I’ll tell you next about Papa No-Tail in trouble.
STORY VIPAPA NO-TAIL IN TROUBLE
Papa No-tail, the frog gentleman, was working away in the wallpaper factory one day, when something quite strange happened to him, and if you all sit right nice and quiet, as my dear old grandmother used to say, I’ll tell you all about it, from the beginning to the end, and I’ll even tell you the middle part, which some people leave out, when they tell stories.
Papa No-Tail would dip his four feet, which were something like hands, in the different colored inks at the factory. There was red ink, and blue ink, and white ink, and black ink, and sky-purple-green ink, and also that newest shade, skilligimink color, which Sammie Littletail once dyed his Easter eggs. After he had his feet nicely covered with the ink, Papa No-Tail would hop all over pieces of white paper to make funny patterns on them. Then they would be ready to paper a room, and make it look pretty.
“I think that is very well done,” said the oldgentleman frog to himself as he looked at one roll of paper on which he had made a picture of a mouse chasing a big lion. “Now I think I will make a pattern of a doggie standing on his left ear.” And he did so, and very fine it was, too.
“Now, while I’m waiting for the ink to dry,” said Mr. No-Tail, “I’ll lie down and take a nap.” So he went fast, fast asleep on a long piece of the wall paper that was stretched out on the floor, and this was the beginning of his trouble.
For, all at once, a puff of wind—not a cream puff, you understand, but a wind puff—came in the window, and rolled up the wallpaper in a tight little roll, and the worst of it was that Papa No-Tail was asleep inside. Yes, fast, fast asleep, and he never knew that he was wrapped up, just like a stick of chewing gum; only you mustn’t ever chew gum in school, you know.
Well, time went on, and the clock ticked, and Papa No-Tail still slept. Then a man looked in the window of the wallpaper factory and, seeing no one there, he thought he would take a roll of paper home with him, to paste on his little boy’s bedroom.
“The next time I come past here, perhaps some one will be in the office,” the man said, “and then I can pay them for the paper,” for he wanted to be very honest, you see. “I’ll getUncle Butter, the goat, to paste the paper on the wall for me,” said the man. Then he reached inside the room, and what do you think? Why he picked up the very piece of wallpaper that was wrapped around Papa Chip-Chip—Oh, no, excuse me! I mean Papa No-Tail. Yes, the man picked up that roll, with Bully’s and Bawly’s papa inside, and away he went with it, and the old gentleman frog was still sound asleep.
Now this is about the middle of his trouble, just as I said I’d tell you, but we haven’t gotten to the end yet, though we will in a little while.
Home that man went, as fast as he could go, and on his way he stopped at Uncle Butter’s office.
“I have a little wallpapering I want done at my house,” the man said to the old gentleman goat, “and I wish you’d come right along with me and do it. I have the paper here.”
“To be sure I will,” said Uncle Butter. So he got his pail of paste, and gave Billie and Nannie Goat a little bit on some brown paper, just like jam, and they liked it very much. The goat paper-hanger took his shears, and his brushes, and his stepladders, tying them on his horns, and away he went with the man.
Pretty soon they came to the house where the man lived, and his little boy was there, and verydelighted he was when he heard that he was to have some new paper on his room.
“May I watch you put it on?” he asked Uncle Butter.
“Yes,” answered the old gentleman goat, “if you don’t step in the paste, and spoil the carpet.”
The little boy promised that he wouldn’t, and Uncle Butter went to work. First he got his sticky stuff all ready, and then he made a little table on which to lay out and paste the paper.
“Now, we’ll cut the roll into strips and fasten it on the wall good and tight, so that it won’t fall off in the middle of the night and scare you,” said Uncle Butter. Then he reached for the roll of paper, and, mind you, Papa No-Tail was still asleep inside of it. But all at once, just as the paper-hanger goat was about to pick up the roll, Mr. No-Tail awakened and was quite surprised to discover where he was.
“My, I never would have believed it,” he said, and he wiggled his legs and arms and made a great rustling sound inside the roll of paper like a fly in a sugar bag.
“Hello! What’s that?” cried Uncle Butter, jumping back so quickly that he upset his paste-pot.
“What’s the matter?” asked the little boy in glad surprise.
“Why, there’s something inside that paper!” cried the goat. “See, it’s moving! There must be a fairy inside!”
Surely enough, the paper was rolling and twisting around on the floor in a most remarkable manner, for Papa No-Tail inside was wriggling and twisting, and trying his best to get out. But the paper was wound around him too tightly, and he couldn’t get loose.
“Oh, do you think it’s a fairy?” asked the little boy eagerly, for he loved the dear creatures, and wanted to see one.
“Let me out! Oh, please let me out!” suddenly cried Papa No-Tail just then.
“Of course it’s a fairy, my boy!” exclaimed Uncle Butter. “Didn’t you hear it call? Oh, I’m going right away from here! I’ve pasted all kinds of paper, but never before have I handled fairy paper, and I’m afraid to begin now.”
He started to run out of the room but his foot slipped in the paste, and down he fell, and his little table fell on top of him, and the stepladder was twisted in his horns. And Papa No-Tail was trying harder than ever to get loose, and the roll of wallpaper rolled right toward Uncle Butter.
“Don’t catch me! Please, don’t catch me!”the goat called to the fairy he supposed was inside. “I never did anything to you!”
Faster and faster rolled the paper, for Mr. No-Tail was wiggling quite hard now, and he was crying to be let out. Then, all of a sudden, the paper with the frog in, rolled close to the little boy. The boy was brave, and he loved fairies, so he opened the roll, and out hopped Mr. No-Tail, being very glad indeed to get loose, for it was quite warm inside there.
“Oh my! Was that you in the paper?” asked Uncle Butter, solemnly, sitting in the middle of the floor, on a lot of paste.
“It was,” said Papa No-Tail, as he helped the goat to get up.
“Well, I never heard tell of such a thing in all my life! Never!” exclaimed the goat, when the frog gentleman told him all about it. Then Uncle Butter pasted the paper on the wall, and Papa No-Tail hopped home, and that’s the end of the story, just as I promised it would be.
Now in case the pussy cat doesn’t wash the puppy dog’s face with the cork from the ink bottle and make his nose black, I’ll tell you on the next page about Bully playing marbles.
STORY VIIBULLY NO-TAIL PLAYS MARBLES
It happened one day that, as Bully No-Tail, the frog boy, was walking along with his bag of marbles going clank-clank in his pocket, he met Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels.
“Hello, Bully!” called the two brothers. “Do you want to have a game of marbles?”
“Of course I do,” answered Bully. “I just bought some new ones. ‘First shot agates!’”
“First shot!” yelled Billie, right after Bully.
“First shot!” also cried Johnnie, almost at the same time.
“Well, I guess we’re about even,” spoke Bully, as he opened his marble bag to look inside. “Now, how are we going to tell who will shoot first?”
“I’ll tell you,” proposed Billie. “We’ll each throw a marble up into the air, and the one whose comes down first will shoot first.”
Well, the other two animal boys thought that was fair, so they tossed their marble shooters up into the air. Billie only sent his up a little way,for then he knew it would come down first, but Johnnie and Bully didn’t think of this, and they threw their shooters up as high as they could. And, of course, their marbles were so much longer coming down to the ground again.
“Oh, ho! Here’s mine!” cried Billie. “I’m to shoot first.”
“And here’s mine,” added Johnnie, a little later, as his marble came down.
“Yes, but where’s mine?” asked Bully, and they all listened carefully to tell when Bully’s shooter would fall down. But the funny part of it was that it didn’t come.
“Say, did you throw it up to the sky?” asked Billie surprised like.
“Because, if you did, it won’t come down until Fourth of July,” added Johnnie.
“No, I didn’t throw it as high as that,” replied the frog boy. “But perhaps Dickie Chip-Chip, the sparrow boy, is flying around up there, and he may have taken it in his bill for a joke.”
So they looked up toward the clouds as far as they could, but no little sparrow boy did they see.
“Well, we’ll have a game of marbles, anyhow,” said Bully at length. “I have another shooter.”
So he and Billie and Johnnie made a ring in the dirt, and put some marbles in the centre.
Then they began to play, and Billie shot first, then Johnnie, and last of all Bully. And all the while the frog boy was wondering what had happened to his first marble. Now, a very queer thing had happened to it, and you’ll soon hear all about it.
Billie and Johnnie had each missed hitting any marbles, and when it came Bully’s turn he took careful aim, with his second-best shooter, a red and blue one.
“Whack-bang!” That’s the way Bully’s shooter hit the marbles in the ring, scattering them all over, and rolling several outside.
“Say, are you going to knock ’em all out?” asked Billie.
“That’s right! Leave some for us,” begged Johnnie.
“Wait until I have one more trial,” went on Bully, for you see he had two shots on account of being lucky with his first one and knocking some marbles from the ring.
Then he went to look for his second-best shooter, for it had rolled away, but he couldn’t find it. It had completely, teetotally, mysteriously and extraordinarily disappeared.
“I’m sure it rolled over here,” said Bully as he poked around in the grass near a big bush. “Please help me look for it, fellows.”
So Billie and Johnnie helped Bully look, but they couldn’t find the second shooter that the frog boy had lost.
“You two go on playing and I’ll hunt for the marble,” said Bully after a while, so he searched along in the grass, and, as he did so, he dropped a nice glass agate out of his bag. He stooped to pick it up, but before he could get his toes on it something that looked like a big chicken’s bill darted out of the prickly briar bush and gobbled up the marble.
“Oh!” cried Bully in fright, jumping back, “I wonder if that was a snake?”
“No, I’m not a snake,” was the answer. “I’m a bird,” and then out from behind the bush came a great, big Pelican bird.
“Did—did you take my marble?” asked Bully timidly.
“I did!” cried the Pelican bird, snapping his bill together just like a big pair of scissors. “I ate the first one after it fell to the ground near me, and I ate the second one that you shot over here. They’re good—marbles are! I like ’em. Give me some more!”
The bird snapped his beak again, and Bully jumped back. As he did so the marbles in his pocket rattled, and the Pelican heard them.
“Ha! You have more!” he cried: “Hand’em over. I’ll eat ’em all up. I just love marbles!”
“No, you can’t have mine!” exclaimed Bully, backing away. “I want to play some more games with Billie and Johnnie with these,” and he looked to see where his two friends were. They were quite some distance off, shooting marbles as hard as they could.
Then, all of a sudden, that Pelican bird made a swoop for poor Bully, and before the frog boy could get out of the way the bird had gobbled him up in his big bill. There Bully was, not exactly swallowed by the bird, you understand, but held a prisoner in the big pouch, or skin laundry-bag that hung down below the bird’s lower beak.
“Oh, let me out of here!” cried Bully, hopping about inside the big bag on the bird’s big bill. “Let me out! Let me out!”
“No, I’ll not,” said the big bird, speaking through his nose because his mouth was shut. “I’ll keep you there until you give me all your marbles, or until I decide whether or not I’ll eat you for my supper.”
Well, poor Bully was very much frightened, and I guess you’d be, too. He tried to get out but he couldn’t, and the bird began walking off to his nest, taking the frog boy with him. Then Bully thought of his bag of marbles, and, insidethe big bill, he rattled them as loudly as he could.
“Billie and Johnnie Bushytail may hear me, and help me,” he thought.
And, surely enough the squirrel boys did. They heard the rattle of Bully’s marbles inside the Pelican’s beak, and they saw the big bird, and they guessed at once where Bully was. Then they ran up to the Pelican, and began hitting him with their marbles, which they threw at him as hard as they could. In the eyes and on his ears and on his wiggily toes and on his big beak they hit him with marbles, until that Pelican bird was glad enough to open his bill and let Bully go, marbles and all. Then the bird flew away to its nest, and Bully and his friends could play their game once more.
The Pelican didn’t come back to bother them, but he had Bully’s two shooters, that he had swallowed. So Johnnie, the squirrel, lent the boy frog another shooter, and it was all right. And, in case the rain doesn’t come down the chimney and put the fire out, so I can’t cook some pink eggs with chocolate on for my birthday, I’ll tell you in the following story about Bawly and the soldier hat.
STORY VIIIBAWLY AND THE SOLDIER HAT
Susie Littletail and Jennie Chipmunk were having a play party in the woods. They had their lunch in little birch-bark baskets, and they used a nice, big, flat stump for a table. They took an old napkin for a tablecloth, and they had pieces of carrots boiled in molasses and chocolate, and cabbage with pink frosting on, and nuts all covered with candy, and some sugared popcorn, and all nice things like that, to eat.
“Oh, isn’t this lovely!” exclaimed Susie. “Please pass me the fried lolly-pops, Jennie, aren’t they lovely?”
“Yes, they’re perfectly grand!” spoke Jennie as she passed over some bits of turnip, which they made believe were fried lolly-pops. “I’ll have some sour ginger snaps, Susie.”
So Susie passed the plate full of acorns, which were make-believe sour ginger snaps, you know, and the little animal girls were having a very fine time, indeed. Oh, my, yes, and a bottle of horseradish also!
Now, don’t worry, if you please. I know I did promise to tell about Bawly and the soldier hat, and I’m going to do it. But Susie’s and Jennie’s play party has something to do with the hat, so I had to start off with them.
While they were playing in the woods, having a fine time, Bawly No-Tail, the frog boy, was at home in his house, making a big soldier hat out of paper. I suppose you children have often made them, and also have played at having a parade with wooden swords and guns. If you haven’t done so, please get your papa to make you a soldier hat.
Well, finally Bawly’s hat was finished, and he put a feather in it, just as Yankee Doodle did, only Bawly didn’t look like macaroni.
“Now, I’ll go out and see if I can find the boys and we’ll pretend there’s a war, and a battle, and shooting and all that,” went on the frog chap, who loved to do exciting things. So Bawly hopped out, and Grandpa Croaker, who was asleep in the rocking chair didn’t hear him go. Anyhow, I don’t believe the old gentleman frog would have cared, for Bawly’s papa was at work in the wallpaper factory and his mamma had gone to the five and ten cent store to buy a new dishpan that didn’t have a hole in it. As for the other frog boy, Bawly’s brother Bully, he hadgone after an ice cream cone, I think, or maybe a chocolate candy.
On Bawly hopped, but he didn’t meet any of his friends. He had on his big, paper soldier hat, with the feather sticking out of the top, and Bawly also had a wooden gun, painted black, to make it look real, and he had a sword made out of a stick, all silvered over with paint to make it look like steel.
Oh, Bawly was a very fine soldier boy! And as he marched along he whistled a little tune that went like this:
“Soldier boy, soldier boy,Brave and true,I’m sure every one isFrightened at you.Salute the flag andFire the gun,Now wave your sword andFoes will run.Your feathered cap givesLots of joy,Oh! you’re a darlingSoldier boy!”
Well, Bawly felt finer than ever after that, and though he still didn’t meet any of his friends,with whom he might play, he was hoping he might see a savage fox or wolf, that he might do battle with the unpleasant creature. But perhaps you had better wait and see what happens.
All this while, as Bawly was marching along through the woods with his soldier cap on, Susie and Jennie were playing party at the old stump. They had just eaten the last of the sweet-sour cookies, and drank the last thimbleful of the orange-lemonade when, all at once, what should happen but that a great big alligator crawled out of the bushes and made a jump for them! Dear me! Would you ever expect such a thing?
“Oh, look at that!” cried Susie as she saw the alligator.
“Yes. Let’s run home!” shouted Jennie in fright.
But before either of them could stir a step the savage alligator, who had escaped from the circus again, grabbed them, one in each claw, and then, holding them so that they couldn’t get away, he sat up on the end of his big tail, and looked first at Susie and then at Jennie.
“Oh, please let us go!” cried Susie, with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, yes, do; and I’ll give you this half of a cookie I have left,” spoke Jennie kindly.
“I don’t want your cookie, I want you,” sangthe alligator, as if he were reciting a song. “I’m going to eat you both!”
Then he held them still tighter in his claws, and fairly glared at them from out of his big eyes.
“I’m going to eat you all up!” he growled, “but the trouble is I don’t know which one to eat first. I guess I’ll eat you,” and he made a motion toward Susie. She screamed, and then the alligator changed his mind. “No, I guess I’ll eat you,” and he opened his mouth for Jennie. Then he changed his mind again, and he didn’t know what to do. But, of course, this made Jennie and Susie feel very nervous and also a big word called apprehensive, which is the same thing.
“Oh, help! Help! Will no one help us?” cried Susie at last.
“No, I guess no one will,” spoke the alligator, real mean and saucy like.
But he was mistaken. At that moment, hopping through the woods was Bawly No-Tail, wearing his paper soldier hat. He heard Susie call, and up he marched, like the brave soldier frog boy that he was. Through the holes in the bushes he could see the big alligator, and he saw Susie and Jennie held fast in his claws.
“Oh, I can never fight that savage creatureall alone,” thought Bawly. “I must make him believe that a whole army of soldiers is coming at him.”
So Bawly hid behind a tree, where the alligator couldn’t find him, and the frog boy beat on a hollow log with a stick as if it were a drum. Then he blew out his cheeks, whistling, and made a noise like a fife. Then he aimed his wooden gun and cried: “Bang! Bang! Bung! Bung!” just as if the wooden gun had powder in it. Next Bawly waved his cap with the feather in it, and the alligator heard all this, and he saw the waving soldier cap, and he, surely enough, thought a whole big army was coming after him.
“I forgot something,” the alligator suddenly cried, as he let go of Susie and Jennie. “I have to go to the dentist’s to get a tooth filled,” and away that alligator scrambled through the woods as fast as he could go, taking his tail with him. So that’s how Bawly saved Susie and Jennie, and very thankful they were to him, and if they had had any cookies left they would have given him two or sixteen, I guess.
Now if our gas stove doesn’t go out and dance in the middle of the back yard and scare the cook, so she can’t bake a rice-pudding pie-cake, I’ll tell you next about Grandpa Croaker and the umbrella.
STORY IXGRANDPA CROAKER AND THE UMBRELLA
One day, as Bully No-Tail, the frog boy, was coming home from school he thought of a very hard word he had had to spell in class that afternoon. It began with a “C,” and the next letter was “A” and the next one was “T”—CAT—and what do you think? Why Bully said it spelled “Kitten,” and just for that he had to write the word on his slate forty-’leven times, so he’d remember it next day.
“I guess I won’t forget it again in a hurry,” thought Bully as he hopped along with his books in a strap over his shoulder. “C-a-t spells—” And just then he heard a funny noise in the bushes, and he stopped short, as Grandfather Goosey Gander’s clock did, when Jimmy Wibblewobble poured molasses in it. Bully looked all around to see what the noise was. “For it might be that alligator, or the Pelican bird,” he whispered to himself.
Just then he heard a jolly laugh, and his brother Bawly hopped out from under a cabbage leaf.
“Did I scare you, Bully?” asked Bawly, as he scratched his right ear with his left foot.
“A little,” said Bully, turning a somersault to get over being frightened.
“Well, I didn’t mean to, and I won’t do it again. But now that you are out of school, come on, let’s go have a game of ball. It’ll be lots of fun,” went on Bawly.
So the two brothers hopped off, and found Billie and Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrels, and Sammie Littletail, the rabbit boy, and some other animal friends, and they had a fine game, and Bawly made a home run.
Now, about this same time, Grandpa Croaker, the nice old gentleman frog, was hopping along through the cool, shady woods, and he was wondering what Mrs. No-Tail would have good for supper.
“I hope she has scrambled watercress with sugar on top,” thought Grandpa, and just then he felt a drop of rain on his back. The sun had suddenly gone under a cloud, and the water was coming down as fast as it could, for April showers bring May flowers, you know. Grandpa Croaker looked up, and, as he did so a drop of rain fell right in his eye! But bless you! Hedidn’t mind that a bit. He just hopped out where he could get all wet, for he had on his rubber clothes, and he felt as happy as your dollie does when she has on her new dress and goes for a ride in the park. Frogs love water.
The rain came down harder and harder and the water was running about, all over in the woods, playing tag, and jumping rope, and everything like that, when, all at once, Grandpa Croaker heard a little voice crying:
“Oh, dear! I’ll never get home in all this rain without wetting my new dress and bonnet! Oh, what shall I do?”
“Ha, I wonder if that can be a fairy?” said Grandpa.
“No, I’m not a fairy,” went on the voice. “I’m Nellie Chip-Chip, the sparrow girl, and I haven’t any umbrella.”
“Oh, ho!” exclaimed Grandpa Croaker as he saw Nellie huddled up under a big leaf, “why do you come out without an umbrella when it may rain at any moment? Why do you do it?”
“Oh, I came out to-day to gather some nice wild flowers for my teacher,” said Nellie. “See, I found some lovely white ones, like stars,” and she held them out so Grandpa could smell them. But he couldn’t without hopping over closer to where the little sparrow girl was.
“I was so interested in the flowers that I forgot all about bringing an umbrella,” went on Nellie, and then she began to cry, for she had on a new blue hat and dress, and didn’t want them to get spoiled by the rain that was splashing all over.
“Oh, don’t cry!” begged Grandpa.
“But I can’t get home without an umbrella,” wailed Nellie.
“Oh, I can soon fix that,” said the old gentleman goat—I mean frog. “See, over there is a nice big toadstool. That will make the finest umbrella in the world. I’ll break it off and bring it to you, and then you can fly home, holding it over your head, in your wing, and then your hat and dress won’t get wet.”
Nellie thanked Grandpa Croaker very kindly and thought what a fine frog gentleman he was. Off he hopped through the rain, never minding it the least bit, and just as he got to the toadstool what do you s’pose he saw? Why, a big, ugly snake was twined around it, just as a grapevine twines around the clothes-post.
“Hello, there!” cried Grandpa. “You don’t need that toadstool at all, Mr. Snake, for water won’t hurt you. I want it for Nellie Chip-Chip, so kindly unwind yourself from it.”
“Indeed, I will not,” spoke the snake, saucily, hissing like a steam radiator on a hot day.
“I demand that you immediately get off that toadstool!” cried Grandpa Croaker in his hoarsest voice, so that it sounded like distant thunder. He wanted to scare the snake.
“I certainly will not get off!” said the snake, firmly, “and what’s more I’m going to catch you, too!” And with that he reached out like lightning and grabbed Grandpa, and wound himself around him and the toadstool also, and there the poor gentleman frog was, tight fast!
“Oh! Oh! You’re squeezing the life out of me!” cried Grandpa Croaker.
“That’s what I intend to do,” spoke the snake, savagely.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do?” asked Nellie. “Shall I bite his tail, Mr. Frog?”
“No, stay there. Don’t come near him, or he’ll grab you,” called Grandpa Croaker in a choking voice. “Besides you’ll get all wet, for it’s still raining. I’ll get away somehow.” But no matter how hard he struggled Grandpa couldn’t get away from the snake, who was pressing him tighter and tighter against the toadstool.
Poor Grandpa thought he was surely going to be killed, and Nellie was crying, but she didn’t dare go near the snake, and the snake was laughingand snickering as loud as he could. Oh, he was very impolite! Then, all of a sudden, along hopped Bully and Bawly, the frog boys. The ball game had been stopped on account of the rain, you know.
“Oh, look!” cried Bully. “We must save Grandpa from that snake!”
“That’s what we must!” shouted Bawly. “Here, we’ll make him unwind himself from Grandpa and the toadstool and then hit him with our baseball bats.”
So those brave frog boys went quite close to the snake, and that wiggily creature thought he could catch them, and so put out his head to do it. Then Bully and Bawly hopped around the toadstool in a circle, and the snake, keeping his beady, black eyes on them, followed them with his head, around and around, still hoping to catch them, until he finally unwound himself, just like a corkscrew out of a bottle.
Then Bully and Bawly hit him with their baseball bats, and the snake ran away, taking his tail with him, and Grandpa Croaker was free. Then, taking a long breath, for good measure, the old gentleman frog broke off the toadstool and gave it to Nellie Chip-Chip for an umbrella, and the sparrow girl could go home in the rain without getting wet. And Grandpa thanked Bully andBawly and hopped on home with them. So that’s the end of this story.
But in case the little dog next door doesn’t take our doormat and eat it for supper with his bread and butter I’ll tell you in the story after this one about Bawly and Jollie Longtail.
STORY XBAWLY NO-TAIL AND JOLLIE LONGTAIL
For a few days after Grandpa Croaker, the old frog gentleman, had been wound around the toadstool by the snake, as I told you in the story before this one, he was so sore and stiff from the squeezing he had received, that he had to sit in an easy chair, and eat hot mush with sugar on. And, in order that he would not be lonesome, Bawly and Bully No-Tail, the frog boys, sat near him, and read him funny things from their school books, or the paper, and Grandpa Croaker was very thankful to them.
The frog boys wanted very much to go away and play ball with their friends, for, it being the Easter vacation, there was no school, but, instead, they remained at home nearly all the while, so Grandpa wouldn’t feel lonesome.
But at last one day the old gentleman frog said:
“Now, boys, I’m sure you must be very tired of staying with me so much. You need a littlevacation. I am almost well now, so I’ll hop over and see Uncle Wiggily Longears. Then you may go and play ball, and here is a penny for each of you.”
Well, of course Bully and Bawly thanked their Grandpa, though they really hadn’t expected anything like that, and off they hopped to the store to spend the money. For they had saved all the pennies for a long time, and they were now allowed to buy something.
Bully bought a picture post card to send to Aunt Lettie, the nice old lady goat, and Bawly bought a bean shooter. That is a long piece of tin, with a hole through it like a pipe, and you put in a bean at one end, blow on the other end, and out pops the bean like a cork out of a soda water bottle.
“What are you going to do with that bean shooter?” asked Bully of his brother.
“Oh, I’m going to carry it instead of a gun,” said Bawly, “and if I see that bad alligator, or snake, again I’ll shoot ’em with beans.”
“Beans, won’t hurt ’em much,” spoke Bully.
“No, but maybe the beans will tickle ’em so they’ll laugh and run away,” replied his brother. Then they hopped on through the woods, and pretty soon they met Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow, the puppy dogs.
“Let’s have a ball game,” suggested Peetie, as he wiggled his left ear.
“Oh, yes!” cried Jackie, as he dug a hole in the ground to see if he could find a juicy bone, but he couldn’t I’m sorry to say.
Well, they started the ball game, and Bawly was so fond of his bean shooter that he kept it with him all the while, and several times, when the balls were high in the air, he tried to hit them by blowing beans at them. But he couldn’t, though the beans popped out very nicely.
But finally the other players didn’t like Bawly to do that, for the beans came down all around them, and tickled them so that they had to laugh, and they couldn’t play ball.
Then Bawly said he’d lay his shooter down in the grass, but before he could do so his brother Bully knocked such a high flying ball that you could hardly see it.
“Oh, grab it, Bawly! Grab it!” cried Peetie and Jackie, dancing about on the ends of their tails, for Bawly was supposed to chase after the balls. Away he went with his bean shooter, almost as fast as an automobile.
Farther and farther went the ball, and Bawly was chasing after it. All of a sudden he found himself in the back yard of a house where the ball had bounced over the fence, and of course, beinga good ball player, Bawly kept right on after it. But he never expected to find himself in the yard, and he certainly never expected to see what he did see.
For there was a great, big, ugly, cruel boy, and he had something in his hand. At first Bawly couldn’t tell what it was, and then, to his surprise, he saw that the boy had caught Jollie Longtail, the nice little mousie boy, about whom I once told you.
“Ah ha! Now I have you!” cried the boy to the mouse. “You went in the feed box in my father’s barn, and I have caught you.”
“Oh, but I only took the least bit of corn,” said Jollie Longtail. But the boy didn’t understand the mouse language, though Bawly did.
“I’m going to tie your tail in a knot, hang you over the clothes line and then throw stones at you!” went on the cruel boy. “That will teach you to keep away from our place. We don’t like mice.”
Well, poor Jollie Longtail shivered and shook, and tried to get away from that boy, but he couldn’t, and then the boy began tying a knot in the mousie’s tail, so he could fasten Jollie to the clothes line in the yard.
“Oh, this is terrible!” cried Bawly, and he forgot all about the ball that was lying in thegrass close beside him. “How sorry I am for poor Jollie,” thought Bawly.
“There’s one knot!” cried the boy as he made it. “Now for another!”
Poor Jollie squirmed and wiggled, but he couldn’t get away.
“Now for the last knot, and then I’ll tie you on the clothes line,” spoke the boy, twisting Jollie’s tail very hard.
“Oh, if he ever gets tied on the clothes line that will be the last of him!” thought Bawly. “I wonder how I can save him?”
Bawly thought, and thought, and thought, and finally he thought of his bean shooter, and the beans he still had with him.
“That’s the very thing!” he whispered. Then he hid down in the grass, where the boy couldn’t see him, and just as that boy was about to tie Jollie to the line, Bawly put a bean in the shooter, put the shooter in his mouth, puffed out his cheeks and “bango!” a bean hit the boy on the nose!
“Ha!” cried the boy. “Who did that?” He looked all around and he thought, maybe, it was a hailstone, but there weren’t any storm clouds in the sky. Then the boy once more started to tie Jollie to the line.
“Bungo!” went a bean on his left ear, hitting him quite hard.
“Stop that!” the boy cried, winking his eyes very fast.
“Cracko!” went a bean on his right ear, for Bawly was blowing them very fast now.
“Oh, wait until I get hold of you, whoever you are!” shouted the boy, looking all around, but he could see no one, for Bawly was hiding in the grass.
“Smacko!” went a bean on the boy’s nose again, and then he danced up and down, and was so excited that he dropped poor Jollie in the soft grass, and away the mousie scampered to where he saw Bawly hiding.
Then Bawly kindly loosened the knots in the mousie’s tail, picked up the ball, and away they both scampered back to the game, and told their friends what had happened. And maybe Jollie wasn’t thankful to Bawly! Well, I just guess he was! And that boy was so kerslastrated, about not being able to find out who blew the beans at him, that he stood right up on his head and wiggled his feet in the air, and then ran into the house.
Now, if it should happen that our pussy cat doesn’t go roller skating and fall down and hurt its little nose so he can’t lap up his milk, I’ll tell you next about Bully and the water bottle.