STORY XIBULLY AND THE WATER BOTTLE
Well, just as I expected, my little cat did go roller skating, and skated over a banana skin, and fell down and rubbed some of the fur off his ear. But anyhow I’ll tell you a story just the same, and it’s going to be about what happened to Bully No-Tail, the frog, when he had a water bottle.
Do you know what a water bottle is? Now don’t be too sure. You might think it was a bottle made out of water, but instead it’s a bottle that holds water. Any kind of a bottle will do, and you can even take a milk bottle and put water in it if the milkman lets you.
Well, one day, when Bully didn’t know what to do to have some fun, and when Bawly, his brother, had gone off to play ball, Bully thought about making a water bottle, as Johnnie Bushytail had told him how to do it.
Bully took a bottle that once had held ink, and he cleaned it all out. Then he got a cork, and, taking one of his mamma’s long hatpins, hemade, with the sharp point, a number of holes through the cork, just as if it were a sieve, or a coffee strainer. Then Bully filled the bottle with water, put in the cork, and there he had a sprinkling-water-bottle, just as nice as you could buy in a store.
“Now I’ll have some fun!” exclaimed Bully, as he jiggled the bottle up and down quite fast, with the cork end held down. The water squirted out from it just like from the watering can, when your mamma waters the flowers.
“I guess I’ll go water the garden first,” thought Bully. So he hopped over to where there were some seeds planted and the little green sprouts were just peeping up from the ground. Bully sprinkled water on the dry earth and made it soft so the flowers could come through more easily.
“Oh, this is great!” cried the frog boy, as he held the water bottle high in the air and let some drops sprinkle down all around on his own head and clothes.
But please don’t any of you try that part of the trick unless you have on your bathing suit, for your mamma might not like it. As for Bully, it didn’t matter how wet he got, for frogs just like water, and they have on clothes that water doesn’t harm.
So Bully watered all the flowers, and then he sprinkled the dust on the sidewalk and got a broom, and swept it nice and clean.
“Ha! That’s a good boy!” said Grandpa Croaker, in his deepest voice, as he hopped out of the yard to go over and play checkers with Uncle Wiggily Longears. “A very good boy, indeed. Here is a penny for you,” and he gave Bully a bright, new one.
“I’m going to buy some marbles, as I lost all mine,” said Bully, as he thanked his Grandpa very kindly and hopped off to the store.
But before Bully had hopped very far he happened to think that his water bottle was empty, so he stopped at a nice cold spring that he knew of, beside the road, and filled it—that is, he filled his water bottle, you know, not the spring.
“For,” said Bully to himself, “I might happen to meet a bad dog, and if he came at me to bite me I could squirt water in his eyes, almost as well as if I had a water pistol, and the dog would howl and run away.”
Well, the frog boy hopped along, and pretty soon he came to a store where the marbles were. He bought a penny’s worth of brown and blue ones, and then the monkey-doodle, who kept the store, gave him a piece of candy.
“Now I’ll find some of the boys, and have agame of marbles,” thought Bully, as he took three big hops and two little ones. Then he hopped into the woods to look for his friends.
Well, Bully hadn’t gone on very far before, just as he was hopping past a big stump, he heard a voice calling:
“Now I have you!”
Well, you should have seen that frog boy jump, for he thought it was a savage wolf or fox about to grab him. But, instead he saw Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrel, and right in front of Johnnie was a great big horned owl, with large and staring eyes.
“Now I have you!” cried the owl again, and this time Bully knew the bad bird was speaking to poor Johnnie Bushytail and not to him. And at that the owl put out one claw, and, before the squirrel could run away the savage creature had grabbed him. “Didn’t I tell you I had you?” the bird asked, sarcastic like.
“Yes, I guess I did,” answered Johnnie, trembling so that his tail looked like a dusting brush. “But please let me go, Mr. Owl. I never did anything to you.”
“Didn’t you climb up a tree just now?” asked the owl, real saucy like.
“Yes. I guess I did,” answered Johnnie.“I’m always climbing trees, you know. But that doesn’t hurt you; does it?”
“Yes, it does, for you knocked down a piece of bark, and it hit me on the beak. And for that I’m going to take you home and cook you for dinner,” the owl hooted.
“Oh, please, please don’t!” begged poor Johnnie, but the owl said he would, just the same, and he began to get ready to fly off to his nest with the squirrel.
“Ha, I must stop that, if it’s possible,” thought Bully, the frog, who was still hiding behind the stump. “I mustn’t let the owl carry Johnnie away. But how can I stop him?” Bully peeked around the edge of the stump and saw the owl squeezing poor Johnnie tighter and tighter in his claws.
“Ah, I have it!” cried Bully. “My water bottle and my marbles!” And with that he hopped softly up on top of the stump, and leaning over the edge he saw below him the owl holding Johnnie. Then Bully took the water bottle, turned it upside down, and he sprinkled the water out as hard as he could on that savage owl’s back. Down it fell in a regular shower.
“My goodness me!” cried the owl. “It’s raining and I have no umbrella! I’ll get all wet!”
Then Bully squirted out more water, shaking it from the bottle as hard as he could, and he rattled his bag of marbles until they sounded like thunder and hailstones, and the owl looked up, but couldn’t see Bully on the stump for the water was in his eyes. Then, being very much afraid of rain and thunder storms, that bad owl bird suddenly flew away, leaving Johnnie Bushytail on the ground, scared but safe.
“Ha! That’s the time the water bottle did a good trick!” cried Bully, as he went to see if Johnnie was hurt. But the squirrel wasn’t, very much, and he could soon scramble home, after thanking Bully very kindly.
And that owl was so wet that he caught cold and had the epizootic for a week, and it served him right. Now in case the baby’s rattle box doesn’t bounce into the pudding dish and scare the chocolate cake, I’ll tell you next about Bawly going hunting.
STORY XIIBAWLY NO-TAIL GOES HUNTING
“Oh, Grandpa, will you please tell us a story?” begged Bully and Bawly No-Tail one evening after supper, when they sat beside the old gentleman frog, who was reading a newspaper. “Do tell us a story about a giant.”
“Ha! Hum!” exclaimed Grandpa Croaker. “I’m afraid I don’t know any giant stories, but I’ll tell you one about how I once went hunting and was nearly caught myself.”
“Oh, that will be fine!” cried the two frog boys, so their Grandpa took one of them up on each knee, and in his deepest, bass, rumbling, stumbling, bumbling voice he told them the story.
It was a very good story, and some day perhaps I may tell it to you. It was about how, when Grandpa was a young frog, he started out to hunt blackberries, and got caught in a briar bush and couldn’t get loose for ever so long, and the mosquitoes bit him very hard, all over.
“And after that I never went hunting blackberries without taking a mosquito netting along,” said the old frog gentleman, as he finished his story.
“My but thatwasan adventure!” cried Bully.
“That’s what!” agreed his brother. “You were very brave, Grandpa, to go off hunting blackberries all alone.”
“Yes, I was considered quite brave and handsome when I was young,” admitted the old gentleman frog, in his bass voice. “But now, boys, run off to bed, and I’ll finish reading the paper.”
The next morning when Bully got up he saw Bawly at the side of the bed, putting some beans in a bag, and taking his bean shooter out from the bureau drawer where he kept it.
“What are you going to do, Bawly?” asked Bully.
“I’m going hunting, as Grandpa did,” said his brother.
“But blackberries aren’t ripe yet. They’re not ripe until June or July,” objected Bully.
“I know it, but I’m going to hunt mosquitoes, not blackberries. I’m going to kill all I can with my bean shooter, and then there won’t be so many to bite the dear little babies this summer. Don’t you want to come along?” asked Bawly.
“I would if I had a bean shooter,” answered Bully. “Perhaps I’ll go some other time. To-day I promised Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow I’d come over and play ball with them.”
So Bully went to play ball, with the puppy dogs, and Bawly went hunting, after his mamma had said that he might, and had told him to be careful.
“I’ll put up a little lunch for you,” she said, “so you won’t get hungry hunting mosquitoes in the woods.”
Off Bawly hopped, with his lunch in a little basket on one leg and carrying his bean shooter, and plenty of beans. He knew a deep, dark, dismal stretch of woodland where there were so many mosquitoes that they wouldn’t have been afraid to bite even an elephant, if one had happened along. You see there were so many of the mosquitoes that they were bold and savage, like bears or lions.
“But just wait until I get at them with my bean shooter,” said Bawly bravely. “Then they’ll be so frightened that they’ll fly away, and never come back to bother people any more.”
On and on he hopped and pretty soon he could hear a funny buzzing noise.
“Those are the mosquitoes,” said the frog boy. “I am almost at the deep, dark, dismal woods.Now I must be brave, as my Grandpa was when he hunted blackberries; and, so that I may be very strong, to kill all the mosquitoes, I’ll eat part of my lunch now.”
So Bawly sat down under a toadstool, for it was very hot, and he ate part of his lunch. He could hear the mosquitoes buzzing louder and louder, and he knew there must be many of them; thousands and thousands.
“Well, here I go!” exclaimed the frog boy at length, as he wrapped up in a paper what was left of his lunch, and got his bean shooter all ready. “Now for the battle. Charge! Forward, March! Bang-bang! Bung-bung!” and he made a noise like a fife and drum going up hill.
“Well, I wonder what that can be coming into our woods?” asked one mosquito of another as he stopped buzzing his wings a moment.
“It looks like a frog boy,” was the reply of a lady mosquito.
“It is,” spoke a third mosquito, sharpening his biting bill on a stone. “Let’s sting him so he’ll never come here again.”
“Yes, let’s do it!” they all agreed.
So they all got ready with their stingers, and Bawly hopped nearer and nearer. They were just going to pounce on him and bite him topieces when he suddenly shot a lot of beans at them, hitting quite a number of mosquitoes and killing a few.
“My! What’s this? What’s this?” cried the mosquitoes that weren’t killed. “What is happening?” and they were very much surprised, not to say startled.
“This must be a war!” said some others. “This frog boy is fighting us!”
“That’s just what I’m doing!” cried Bawly bravely. “I’m punishing you for what you did to Grandfather Croaker! Bang-bang! Bung-bung! Shoot! Fire! Aim! Forward, March!” and with that he shot some more beans at the mosquitoes, killing hundreds of them so they could never more bite little babies or boys and girls, to say nothing of papas and mammas and aunts and uncles.
Oh, how brave Bawly was with his bean shooter! He made those mosquitoes dance around like humming birds, and they were very much frightened. Then Bawly took a rest and ate some more of his lunch, laying his bean shooter down on top of a stump.
“Now the battle will go on again!” he cried, when he had eaten the last crumb and felt very strong. But, would you believe me, while he was eating, those mosquitoes had sneaked up and taken away his bean shooter.
“Oh, this is terrible!” cried Bawly, as he saw that his tin shooter was gone. “Now I can’t fight them any more.”
Then the mosquitoes knew that the frog boy didn’t have his bean-gun with him, for they had hid it, and they stung him, so much that maybe, they would have stung him to death if it hadn’t happened that Dickie and Nellie Chip-Chip, the sparrows, flew along just then. Into the swarm of mosquitoes the birds flew, and they caught hundreds of them in their bills and killed them, and the rest were so frightened that they flew away, and in that manner Bawly was saved.
So that’s how he went hunting all alone, and when he got home his Grandpa Croaker and all the folks thought him very brave. Now, in case I see a red poodle dog, with yellow legs, standing on his nose while he wags his tail at the pussy cat, I’ll tell you next about Papa No-Tail and the giant.
STORY XIIIPAPA NO-TAIL AND THE GIANT
Did you ever hear the story of the giant with two heads, who chased a whale, and caught him by the tail, and tickled the terrible monster with a big, crooked hickory fence rail?
Well, I’m not going to tell you a story about that giant, but about another, who had only one head, though it was a very large one, and this giant nearly scared Papa No-Tail, the frog gentleman, into a conniption fit, which is almost as bad as the epizootic.
It happened one day that there wasn’t any work for Mr. No-Tail to do at the wallpaper factory, where he dipped his feet in ink and hopped around to make funny black, and red, and green, and purple splotches, so they would turn out to be wallpaper patterns. The reason there was no work was because the Pelican bird drank up all the ink in his big bill, so they couldn’t print any paper.
“I have a holiday,” said Papa No-Tail, as hehopped about, “and I am going to have a good time.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Grandpa Croaker as he started off across the pond to play checkers with Uncle Wiggily Longears.
“I think I will take Bully and Bawly and go for a swim, and then we’ll take a hop through the woods and perhaps we may find an adventure,” answered Mr. No-Tail.
So he went up to the house, where Bully and Bawly, the two boy frogs, were just getting ready to go out roller skating, and Mr. No-Tail asked them if they didn’t want to come with him instead.
“Indeed we do!” cried Bully, as he winked both eyes at his brother, for he knew that when his papa took them out hopping, he used often to stop in a store and buy them peanuts or candy.
Well, pretty soon, not so very long, in a little while, Papa No-Tail and the two boys got to the edge of the pond, and into the water they hopped to have a swim. My! I just wish you could have seen them. Papa No-Tail swam in ever so many different ways, and Bully and Bawly did as well as they could. And, would you believe me? just as Bully was getting out of the water, up on the bank, ready to go hoppingoff with Bawly and his papa through the woods, a big fish nearly grabbed the little frog boy by his left hind leg.
“Oh my!” he cried, and his papa hopped over quickly to where Bully was, and threw a stick at the bad fish to scare him away.
“Ha! hum!” exclaimed Mr. No-Tail, “that was nearly an adventure, Bully, but I don’t like that kind. Come on into the woods, boys, and we’ll see what else we can find.”
So into the woods they went, where there were tall trees, and little trees, and bushes, and old stumps where owls lived. And the green leaves were just coming out nicely on the branches, and there were a few early May flowers peeping up from under the leaves and moss, just as baby peeps up at you, out from under the bedclothes in the morning when the sun awakens her.
“Oh, isn’t it just lovely here in the woods!” cried Bully.
“It is certainly very fine,” agreed Bawly, and he looked up in the treetops, where Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels, were frisking about, and then down on the ground, where Sammie and Susie Littletail, the rabbits, were sitting beside an old stump, in which there were no bad owls to scare them.
“Now I think we’ll sit down here and eat ourlunch,” said Papa No-Tail after a while, as they came to a nice little open place in the woods, where there was a large flat stump, which they could use as a table. So they opened the baskets of lunch that Mamma No-Tail had put up for them, and they were eating their watercress sandwiches, and talking of what they would do next, when, all of a sudden, they heard a most startling, tremendous and extraordinary noise in the bushes.
It was just as if an elephant were tramping along, and at first Papa No-Tail thought it might be one of those big beasts, or perhaps an alligator.
“Keep quiet, boys,” he whispered, “and perhaps he won’t see us.” So they kept very quiet, and hid down behind the stump.
But the noise came nearer and nearer, and it sounded louder and louder, and, before you could spell “cat” or “rat,” out from under a big, tall tree stepped a big, tall giant. Oh, he was a fearful looking fellow! His head was as big as a washtub full of clothes on a Monday morning, and his legs were so long that I guess he could have hopped, skipped and jumped across the street in about three steps.
“Oh, look!” whispered Bully.
“Oh, isn’t he terrible!” said Bawly, softly.
“Hush!” cautioned their papa. “Please keep quiet and maybe he won’t see us.”
So they kept as quiet as they could, hoping the giant would pass by, but instead he came right over to the stump, and the first any one knew he had sat down on the top of it. I tell you it’s a good thing Bully and Bawly and their papa had hopped off or they would have been crushed flat. But they weren’t, I’m glad to say, for they were hiding down behind the stump, and they didn’t dare hop away for fear the giant would see, or hear them.
The big man sat on the stump, and he looked all about, and he saw some bread and watercress crumbs where Bully and Bawly and their papa had been eating their lunch.
“My!” exclaimed the giant. “Some one has been having dinner here. Oh, how hungry I am! I wish I had some dinner. I believe I could eat the hind legs of a dozen frogs if I had them!”
Well, you should have seen poor Bully and Bawly tremble when they heard that.
“This must be a terrible giant,” said Mr. No-Tail. “Now I tell you what I am going to do. Bully, I will hide you and Bawly in this hollow stump, and then I’ll hop out where the giant can see me. He’ll chase after me, but I’ll hop away as fast as I can, and perhaps I can get to somewater and hide before he catches me. Then he’ll be so far away from the stump that it will be safe for you boys to come out.”
Well, Bully and Bawly didn’t want their papa to do that, fearing he would be hurt, but he said it was best, so they hid inside the stump, and out Mr. No-Tail hopped to where the giant could see him. Papa No-Tail expected the big man would chase after him, but instead the giant never moved and only looked at the frog and then he laughed and said:
“Hello, Mr. Frog! Let’s see you hop!” And then, what do you think that giant did? Why he took off his head, which wasn’t real, being hollow and made of paper, like a false face, so that his own head went inside of it. And there he was only a nice, ordinary man after all.
“What! Aren’t you a giant?” cried Papa No-Tail, who was so surprised that he hadn’t hopped a single hop.
“No,” said the man; “I am only a clown giant in a circus, but I ran away to-day so I could see the flowers in the woods. I was tired of being in the circus so much and doing funny tricks.”
“But—but—what makes you so tall?” asked Mr. No-Tail.
“Oh, those are wooden stilts on my legs,” saidthe giant. “They make me as tall as a clothes post, these stilts do.”
And, surely enough, they did, being like wooden legs, and the man wasn’t a real giant at all, but very nice, like Mr. No-Tail, only different: and he left off his big hollow paper head, and Bully and Bawly came out of the stump, and the circus clown-giant, just like those you have seen, told the frog boys lots of funny stories. Then they gave him some of their lunch and showed him where flowers grew. Afterward the make-believe giant went back to the circus, much happier than he had been at first.
So that’s all now, if you please, but if the rose bush in our back yard doesn’t come into the house and scratch the frosting off the chocolate cake I’ll tell you next about Bawly and the church steeple.
STORY XIVBAWLY AND THE CHURCH STEEPLE
After Bully and Bawly No-Tail, the frogs, and their papa, reached home from the woods, where they met the make-believe giant, as I told you in the story before this one, they talked about it for ever so long, and agreed that it was quite an adventure.
“I wish I’d have another adventure to-morrow,” said Bawly, as he went to bed that night.
“Perhaps you may,” said his papa. “Only I can’t be with you to-morrow, as I have to go to work in my wallpaper factory. We made the Pelican bird give back the ink, so the printing presses can run again.”
Well, the next day the frog boys’ mamma said to them:
“Bully and Bawly, I wish you would go to the store for me. I want a dozen lemons and some sugar, for I am going to make lemonade, in case company comes to-night.”
“All right, we’ll go,” said Bully very politely. “I’ll get the sugar and Bawly can get the lemons.”
So they went to the store and got the things, and when they were hopping out, the storekeeper, who was a very kind elephant gentleman, gave them each a handful of peanuts, which they put in the pockets of their clothes, that water couldn’t hurt.
Well, when Bully and Bawly were almost home, they came to a place where there were two paths. One went through the woods and the other across the pond.
“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” suggested Bully. “You go by the woodland path, Bawly, and I’ll go by way of the pond and we’ll see who will get home first.”
“All right,” said Bawly, so on he hopped through the woods, going as fast as he could, for he wanted to beat. And Bully swam as fast as he could in the water, carrying the sugar, for it was in a rubber bag, so it wouldn’t get wet. But now I’m going to tell you what happened to Bawly.
He was hopping along, carrying the lemons, when all at once he heard some one calling to him:
“Hello, little frog, are you a good jumper?”
Bawly looked all around, and there right by a great, big stone he saw a savage, ugly fox. At first Bawly was going to throw a lemon at the bad animal, to scare him away, and then he happened to think that the lemons were soft and wouldn’t hurt the fox very much.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the fox, “I won’t bite you. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, little frog,” and then the fox came slowly from behind the stone, and Bawly saw that both the sly creature’s front feet were lame from the rheumatism, like Uncle Wiggily’s, so the fox couldn’t run at all. Bawly knew he could easily hop away from him, as the sly animal couldn’t go any faster than a snail.
“Oh, I guess the reason you won’t hurt me, is because you can’t catch me,” said Bawly, slow and careful-like.
“Oh, I wouldn’t hurt you, anyhow,” went on the fox, trying not to show how hungry he was, for really, you know, he wanted to eat Bawly, but he knew he couldn’t catch him, with his sore feet, so he was trying to think of another way to get hold of him. “I just love frogs,” said the fox.
“I guess you do,” thought Bawly. “You like them too much. I’ll keep well away from you.”
“But what I want to know,” continued the fox, “is whether you are a good jumper, Bawly.”
“Yes, I am—pretty good,” said the frog boy.
“Could you jump over this stone?” asked the fox, slyly, pointing to a little one.
“Easily,” said Bawly, and he did it, lemons and all.
“Could you jump over that stump?” asked the fox, pointing to a big one.
“Easily,” answered Bawly, and he did it, lemons and all.
“Ha! Here is a hard one,” said the fox. “Could you jump over my head?”
“Easily,” replied Bawly, and he did it, lemons and all.
“Well, you certainly are a good jumper,” spoke the fox, wagging his bushy tail with a puzzled air. “I know something you can’t do, though.”
“What is it?” inquired Bawly.
“You can’t jump over the church steeple.”
“I believe I can!” exclaimed Bawly, before he thought. You see he didn’t like the fox to think he couldn’t do it, for Bawly was proud, and that’s not exactly right, and it got him into trouble, as you shall soon see.
You know that fox was very sly, and the reason he wanted Bawly to try to jump over the church steeple was so the frog boy would fall down from a great height and be hurt, and thenthe fox could eat him without any trouble, sore feet or none. I tell you it’s best to look out when a fox asks you to do anything.
“Yes, I can jump over the church steeple,” declared Bawly, and he hopped ahead until he came to the church, the fox limping slowly along, and thinking what a fine meal he’d have when poor Bawly fell, for the fox knew what a terrible jump it was, and how anyone who made it would be hurt, but the frog boy didn’t.
Bawly tucked the bag of lemons under his leg, and he took a long breath, and he gave a jump, but he didn’t go very far up in the air as his foot slipped.
“Ha! I knew you couldn’t do it!” sneered the fox.
“Watch me!” cried Bawly, and this time he gave a most tremendous and extraordinary jump, and right up to the church steeple he went, but he didn’t go over it, and it’s a good thing, too, or he’d have been all broken to pieces when he landed on the ground again. But instead he hit right on top of the church steeple and stayed there, where there was a nice, round, golden ball to sit on.
“Jump down! Jump down!” cried the fox, for he wanted to eat Bawly.
“No, I’m going to stay here,” answeredthe frog boy, for now he saw how far it was to the ground, and he knew he’d be killed if he leaped off the steeple.
Well, the fox tried to get him to jump down, but Bawly wouldn’t. And then the frog boy began to wonder how he’d ever get home, for the steeple was very high.
Then what do you think Bawly did? Why, he took a lemon and threw it at the church bell, hoping to ring it so the janitor would come and help him down. But the lemon was too soft to ring the bell loudly enough for any to hear.
Then Bawly thought of his peanuts, and he threw a handful of them at the church bell in the steeple, making it ring like an alarm clock, and the janitor, who was sweeping out the church for Sunday, heard the bell, and he looked up and saw the frog on the steeple. Then the janitor, being a kind man, got a ladder and helped Bawly down, and the fox, very much disappointed, limped away, and didn’t eat the frog boy after all.
“But you must never try to jump over a steeple again,” said Bawly’s mamma when he told her about it, after he got home with the lemons, and found Bully there ahead of him with the sugar.
So Bawly promised that he wouldn’t, and henever did. And now, if the postman brings me a pink letter with a green stamp on from the playful elephant in the circus, I’ll tell you next about Bully and the basket of chips.
STORY XVBULLY AND THE BASKET OF CHIPS
One nice warm day, as Bully No-Tail, the frog boy, was hopping along through the woods, he felt so very happy that he whistled a little tune on a whistle he made from a willow stick. And the tune he whistled went like this, when you sing it:
“I am a little froggie boy,Without a bit of tail.In fact I’m like a guinea pig,Who eats out of a pail.”I swim, I hop, I flip, I flop,I also sing a tune,And some day I am going to tryTo hop up to the moon.“Because you see the man up thereMust very lonesome be,Without a little froggie boy,Like Bawly or like me.”
“Oh, ho! I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” suddenly exclaimed a voice.
“Try what?” asked Bully, before he thought.
“Try to jump up to the moon,” went on the voice. “Don’t you remember what happened to your brother Bawly when he tried to jump over the church steeple? Don’t do it, I beg of you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t really going to jump to the moon,” went on Bully. “I only put that in the song to make it sound nice. But who are you, if you please?” for the frog boy looked all around and he couldn’t see any one.
“Here I am, over here,” the voice said, and then out from behind a clump of tall, waving cat-tail plants, that grew in a pond of water, there stepped a long-legged bird, with a long, sharp bill like a pencil or a penholder.
“Oh ho! So it’s you, is it?” asked Bully, making ready to hop away, for as soon as he saw that long-legged and sharp-billed bird, he knew right away that he was in danger. For the bird was a heron, which is something like a stork that lives on chimneys in a country called Holland. And the heron bird eats frogs and mice and little animals like that.
“Yes, it is I,” said the heron. “Won’t you please sing that song on your whistle again, Bully? I am very fond of music.” And, as hesaid that, the heron slyly took another step nearer to the frog boy, intending to grab him up in his sharp beak.
“I—I don’t believe I have time to sing another verse,” answered Bully. “And anyhow, there aren’t any more verses. So I’ll be going,” and he hopped along, and hid under a stone where the big, big savage bird couldn’t get him.
Oh, my! how angry the heron was when he saw that he couldn’t fool Bully. He stamped his long legs on the ground and said all sorts of mean things, just because Bully didn’t want to be eaten up.
“Now I wonder how I’m going to get away from here without that bird biting me?” thought poor Bully, after a while.
Well, it did seem a hard thing to do, for the heron was there waiting for Bully to come out, when he would jab his bill right through the frog boy. Then Bully thought and thought, which you must always do when you are in trouble, or have hard examples at school, and finally Bully thought of a plan.
“I’ll hop along and go from one stone to another,” he said to himself, “and by hiding under the different rocks the heron can’t get me.”
So he tried that plan, hopping very quickly, and he got along all right, for every time theheron tried to stick the frog boy with his sharp bill, the bird would pick at a stone, under which Bully was hidden, and that would make him more angry than ever. I mean it would make the heron angry, not Bully.
Well, the frog boy was almost home, and he knew that pretty soon the heron would have to turn back and run away, for the bird wouldn’t dare go right up to Bully’s house. Then, all of a sudden, Bully saw a poor old mouse lady going along through the woods, with a basket of chips on her arm. She had picked them up where some men were cutting wood, and the mouse lady intended to put the chips in her kitchen stove, and boil the teakettle with them.
She walked along, when, all of a sudden, she stumbled on an acorn, and fell down, basket and all, and she hurt her paw on a thorn, so she couldn’t carry the basket any more.
“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Bully. “I must help the poor mouse lady.” So, forgetting all about the savage, long-billed bird, waiting to grab him, out from under a stone hopped Bully, and he picked up the basket of chips for the poor mouse lady.
“Oh, thank you kindly, little frog boy,” she said, and then the heron made a rush for Bullyand the mouse lady and tried to stick them both with his sharp beak.
“Oh, quick! Quick! Hop in here with me!” exclaimed the mouse lady, as she pointed to a hole in a hollow stump, and into it she and Bully went, basket of chips and all, just in time to escape the bad heron bird.
“Oh, I’ll get you yet! I’ll get you yet!” screeched the bird, hopping along, first on one leg and then on the other, and dancing about in front of the stump. “I’ll eat you both, that’s what I will!” Then he tried to reach in with his bill and pull the frog boy and the mouse lady out of the hollow stump, but he couldn’t, and then he stood on one leg and hid the other one up under his feathers to keep it warm.
“I’ll wait here until you come out, if I have to wait all night,” said the bird. “Then I’ll get you.”
“I guess he will, too,” said Bully, peeping out of a crack. “We are safe here, but how am I going to get home, and how are you going to get home, Mrs. Mouse?”
“I will show you,” she answered. “We’ll play a trick on that heron. See, I have some green paint, that I was going to put on my kitchen cupboard. Now we’ll take some of it, and we’ll paint a few of the chips green, andthey’ll look something like a frog. Then we’ll throw them out to the heron, one at a time, and he’ll be so hungry that he’ll grab them without looking at them. When he eats enough green chips he’ll have indigestion, and be so heavy, like a stone, that he can’t chase after us when we go out.”
“Good!” cried Bully. So they painted some chips green, just the color of Bully, and they tossed one out of the stump toward the bird.
“Now I have you!” cried the heron, and, thinking it was the frog boy, he grabbed up that green chip as quick as anything. And, before he knew what it was, he had swallowed it, and then Mrs. Mouse and Bully threw out more green chips, and the bad bird didn’t know they were only wood, but he thought they were a whole lot of green frogs hopping out, and he gobbled them up, one after another, as fast as he could.
And, in a little while, the sharp chips stuck out all over inside of him, like potatoes in a sack, and the heron had indigestion, and was so heavy that he couldn’t run. Then Bully and Mrs. Mouse came out of the stump, and went away, leaving the bad bird there, unable to move, and as angry as a fox without a tail. Bully helped Mrs. Mouse carry the rest of the chips home, and then he hopped home himself.
Now that’s the end of this story, but I know another, and if the little boy across the street doesn’t throw his baseball at my pussy cat and make her tail so big I can’t get her inside the house, I’ll tell you about Bawly and his whistles.
STORY XVIBAWLY AND HIS WHISTLES
Did you ever make a willow whistle—that is, out of a piece of wood off a willow tree?
No? Well, it’s lots of fun, and when I was a boy I used to make lots of them. Big ones and little ones, and the kind that would almost make as much noise as some factory whistles. If you can’t make one yourself, ask your big brother, or your papa, or some man, to make you one.
Maybe your big sister can, for some girls, like Lulu Wibblewobble, the duck, can use a knife almost as good as a boy.
Well, if I’m going to tell you about Bawly No-Tail, the frog, and his whistles I guess I’d better start, hadn’t I? and not talk so much about big brothers and sisters.
One afternoon Bawly was hopping along in the woods. It was a nice, warm day, and the wind was blowing in the treetops, and the flowers were blooming down in the moss, and Bawly was very happy.
He came to a willow tree, and he said to himself:
“I guess I’ll make a whistle.” So he cut off a little branch, about eight inches long, and with his knife he cut one end slanting, just like the part of a whistle that goes in your mouth. Then he made a hole for the wind to come out of.
Then he pounded the bark on the stick gently with his knife handle, and pretty soon the bark slipped off, just as mamma takes off her gloves after she’s been down to the five-and-ten-cent store. Then Bully cut away some of the white wood, slipped on the bark again, and he had a whistle.
“My! That’s fine!” he cried, as he blew a loud blast on it. “I think I’ll make another.”
So he made a second one, and then he went on through the woods, blowing first one whistle and then the other, like the steam piano in the circus parade.
“Hello!” suddenly cried a voice in the woods, “who is making all that noise?”
“I am,” answered Bawly. “Who are you?”
“I am Sammie Littletail,” was the reply, and out popped the rabbit boy from under a bush. “Oh, what fine whistles!” he cried when he saw those Bawly had made. “I wish I had one.”
“You may have, Sammie,” answered Bawlykindly, and he gave his little rabbit friend the biggest and loudest whistle. Then the two boy animals went on through the woods, and pretty soon they came to a place where there was a pond of water.
“Excuse me for a minute,” said Bawly. “I think I’ll have a little swim. Will you join me, Sammie?” he asked, politely.
“No,” answered the rabbit, “I’m not a good swimmer, but I’ll wait here on the bank for you.”
“Then you may hold my whistle as well as your own,” said Bawly, “for I might lose it under water.” Then into the pond Bawly hopped, and was soon swimming about like a fish.
But something is going to happen, just as I expected it would, and I’ll tell you all about it, as I promised.
All of a sudden, as Bawly was swimming about, that bad old skillery, scalery alligator, who had escaped from a circus, reared his ugly head up from the pond, where he had been sleeping, and grabbed poor Bawly in his claws.
“Oh, let me go!” cried the boy frog. “Please let me go!”
“No, I’ll not!” answered the alligator savagely. “I had you and your brother once before, and you got away, but you shan’t get loose this time. I’m going to take you to my deep, dark, dismal den, and then we’ll have supper together.”