_THE TRUE TO NATURE SERIES_
BULLY BULL FROG
AND HIS HOME IN
RAINBOW VALLEY
_By_ ELIZABETH STAFFORD FRY
_Pictures by_
FRANCES BEEM
RAND McNALLY & COMPANY
CHICAGO
NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1921, by_
RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY
_THE TRUE TO NATURE SERIES_
Adventures of Tommy Tad and Polly Wog
More Adventures of Tommy Tad and Polly Wog
Shellhouse, the Adventures of a Little Mud Turtle
THE CONTENTS
THE FROG POND
BULLY AND THE LARK
MRS. TOAD ARRIVES
BULLY'S NEW COAT
A RUDE STRANGER
JOHN BULL FROG'S STORY
BULLY AND THE WOOLLY WORM
THE TREE FROGS ARRIVE
DUCKS
BULLY'S NARROW ESCAPE
JOHN BULL FROG MAKES GOOD
MRS. HOUSE FROG ARRIVES AT THE POND
MRS. HOUSE FROG'S STORY
THE WONDERFUL NEST
NEWS
THE LARK'S STORY
THE ROBIN'S SECRET
THE ILLUSTRATIONS
Grandfather and Grandmother Bull Frog
"Good Morning," said the Lark, "aren't you lonely in this flower
garden?"
"Why are you in such a rush," called Bully to the Woolly Worm
Bully saw the baby frogs disappearing in the Ducks' mouths
Bully danced a jig on his lily pad
"Have you gone crazy?" Golden Tree Frog asked the Crow
_To my little daughter_
Edith Louise
_Who is the joy and light of our home
this book is affectionately dedicated_
[Illustration: _Grandfather and Grandmother Bull Frog_]
BULLY BULL FROG
THE FROG POND
I should like to take all my young friends for a visit to a spot in a
most beautiful valley. We will call it Rainbow Valley. Although this is
not its real name, it will do for want of a better one.
At one side of this valley, nestled in against the hills, and quite
hidden from sight by tall grasses and the overshadowing branches of
trees, is a beautiful little lake. It is so tiny that perhaps we had
better just call it a pond. In this pond are tall bulrushes that nod
their heads in the summer breeze, and waving grasses and lovely pond
lilies grow here.
In the center of the pond is a small island carpeted with wild flowers,
ferns, and clinging vines. Great forest trees surround the pond on
three sides and stretch their mighty arms far out over its still
waters. On the other side a tall rocky cliff guards the pond. Large
rocks poke their noses out of the water and jut out from the cliff. One
old fallen tree, that once gave shade to the quiet waters beneath, lies
still at the water's edge. On its branches the little bird built his
nest, the squirrel sunned himself, and the great owl sat and called to
his mate.
No one lives near this spot. Neither the trees nor anything about the
pond has ever been visited by man. It is the home of the small folks
I am going to tell you about in this story. These little folks think
it the most beautiful and the safest place in the world. When you have
heard this story, you will understand why they think so.
One warm spring day Bully's mother--it is really Bully's story I am
going to tell you--placed her tiny eggs in the warm shallow water at
the edge of the pond. After seeing that the eggs were in a safe spot,
she swam away and paid no more attention to them. She felt quite sure
Mother Nature would care for them and see that they hatched safely.
And this Mother Nature did. In three or four weeks, from one of these
tiny eggs came Bully. He was a very, very small person at that time,
and seemed to be all head and tail. He at once fastened himself to
something soft which grew in the pond and began to eat.
As the days went on and Bully ate and ate, he grew quite fast. Soon
he was able to swim about in the water with his brothers and sisters.
After a few days tiny legs could be seen growing out of each side of
his body near his head. Bully didn't think much of this. In fact, all
he did think about was something to eat. But that didn't worry him
much, either, as there was plenty of soft food for him in the pond.
When his front legs were about grown, two more legs began to show
on each side of his body near his tail. As time passed and he began
to use these legs in swimming, he found that he no longer needed a
tail; so he didn't worry when it dropped off. Then Bully did not look
much like the little fellow that had come from a tiny egg about four
months before. Until now he had been a tadpole. But he was a tadpole
no longer. I suppose there is not a boy or girl anywhere who does not
know that Bully was now a young frog. Yes, he was a young frog, but
a very tiny one. Before this he had spent all his time in the water.
It seemed strange for him to be out of it. He breathed differently on
land. In the water he obtained his supply of air like a fish through
gills at the sides of his head. I suppose you all know that gills are
tiny leaf-like sieves on either side of the head through which a fish
or a tadpole takes the air from the water. When Bully became a frog,
the gills disappeared. He could now breathe the air like a real frog. A
change took place inside also. Another part, called a lobe, was added
to his heart. So he became a frog inside as well as outside. Like some
boys and girls, he wanted to be the same all through.
As Bully sat on the shore blinking his eyes in the bright sunshine, a
gnat came flying right past his nose. As quick as a flash Bully put out
his tongue, caught Mr. Gnat, and, in a twinkling of an eye, swallowed
him. This was the first time he had tasted a live thing and, oh, how
good it was! He decided right then that after this he would eat only
live things.
Now I want to tell you about Bully's tongue. Your tongue, as you
know, is fastened in the back part of your mouth and has one point on
the front of it. You know, too, that you cannot put out your tongue
very far. Bully's tongue is just the opposite of yours. His tongue
is fastened in the front of his mouth just back of his teeth. On the
end of it are two points which lie in the back of his mouth near his
throat. When an insect comes near him, he can put out his whole tongue,
just like opening a door out wide. He can fasten those two points
around an insect, such as a gnat or a fly, and hold that insect fast
until it is away down his throat. All this is done so quickly that
if you were looking at him you could hardly tell just how he did it.
Wouldn't it be fine if boys and girls had a tongue like that? It would
be so easy to put out when the doctor asks to see it.
Now you know who Bully is and quite a good deal about him. When this
story opens he is one year old. Last summer he was a tadpole and a
tiny little frog. This is his second summer. You may think he is now
a full-grown frog; but he isn't. He will not be a full-grown bullfrog
until he is four years old.
We first hear of Bully on a fine day in early spring. The fields are
putting on their new green coats. The buds are bursting open on tree
and shrub. The wild flowers are beginning to fill the air with their
fragrance. The birds are making the day glad with song. All nature
seems to be full of joy. The sun smiles upon forest, hill, and field,
not forgetting to warm the water of the Frog Pond. Bully is glad he is
alive. He is on the shore busy catching gnats and flies. There are a
great many other frogs living in this pond. The ones Bully admires most
are Grandfather Bull Frog and Grandmother Bull Frog. They live on the
island in the middle of the pond. Grandfather Bull Frog rules all the
frogs in and about the pond. Bully wished he could be as big and strong
as Grandfather Bull Frog. Grandmother Bull Frog told him that if he
did his best, perhaps some day he would be as big and fine looking as
Grandfather.
All the little frogs loved Grandmother Bull Frog. She looked after them
and told them stories. Whenever Bully was in trouble, he always went to
Grandmother. One day he asked her how the frogs happened to find such
a safe place to live.
"A long, long time ago," Grandmother answered, "Grandfather Bull
Frog and I lived in a very nice pond far away from here. It was in
the field of a man who had two bad boys. We liked that home, for it
was very pleasant. But those boys were cruel. They used to catch the
young frogs and kill them. And they would throw stones at us whenever
we got far enough out of the water so that they could see us. It was
very annoying. I never could understand just why they did it. We did
the boys no harm. One day when we did not know they were about, some
of the young frogs had climbed upon a rock that lifted its head out
of the water. Some of the old frogs were teaching these young frogs
to sing. Everything was going along nicely, when a stone came flying
right through the air toward the rock. Everyone jumped into the water
as quickly as he could. Most of the frogs got away safely. But three
young frogs were not quick enough and were smashed flat against the
rock and killed. Oh, how dreadful it was! But those cruel boys laughed
loudly. They seemed to think they had done a smart thing. We all hid
down in the deep water and did not dare go out for anything to eat
until we were nearly starved. Your Grandfather and I talked the matter
over and decided we must leave our beautiful home and look for a safer
place. We traveled for many days. At last we came to this pond. As
there were no bad boys here or anything that would kill us, we decided
to stay. Here we mean always to live."
"Oh, Grandmother, how dreadful!" little Bully cried. "Why can't we ask
all the frogs to come and live here in this pond where there are no bad
boys to kill them?"
"That would be fine," she answered; "but how could we send them word?
We have no one to take the message to them. I think we should be as
happy as we can and not think too much about the sorrow of others. But
come now," she continued, "I can hear Grandfather Bull Frog calling
everyone to the evening concert. We must hurry."
Each evening all the frogs came together for a grand concert. Bully
thought this the very best time of the whole day. He liked to hear
those big booming frog voices as they made the forest ring with their
song. He always sat on a lily pad near Grandfather Bull Frog's island
during the concert. To tell the truth, that was usually his bed, for
he nearly always fell into a sound sleep before the concert was half
through. This night while he slept he dreamed of bad boys throwing
stones. He thought he was telling all the other frogs to come to
Rainbow Valley and make their home in this dear old Frog Pond.
BULLY AND THE LARK
It was a beautiful morning in early spring. The old bullfrogs about
the pond were singing so loudly that it seemed as if their cheeks must
burst. The cat-tails were sending up tall, sturdy green shoots through
the still water. The trees were bursting into full bloom. The little
johnny-jump-ups and yellow buttercups turned their smiling faces up
to the beautiful warm sun, and tiny dewdrops were like thousands of
sparkling diamonds on the leaves and grasses. All nature seemed joyous
and smiling in Rainbow Valley.
Everybody about the Frog Pond was happy except Bully. He was sitting on
the old log this bright morning looking very glum. He didn't notice the
beauty about him at all. You may wonder what was the matter with him.
Surely a little frog has nothing to worry about! Maybe not, but anyhow,
that was what he was doing.
He had been very unhappy ever since Grandmother Bull Frog had told
him the story of the bad boys and the frogs. He had thought a great
deal about it, and it made him sad. His little heart was heavy. He sat
around all humped up and wished and wished there was some way to tell
all the frogs about this lovely place and invite them to come here and
make it their home. Oh, if he could only go himself to tell them! But
he knew it was a long way off and that he couldn't find the way. Surely
there must be a way to invite them if he could only think of it. He
wished he could see his friend the Lark. Perhaps he could think of a
plan. It seemed as if it could not be done. Grandmother Bull Frog had
said it could not, and Bully knew Grandmother was a wise old frog.
Did you ever want anything very, very much? So much it fairly made
you ache thinking about it? Perhaps it was a new hat or a new suit, a
ticket to the picture show or to a circus. You thought and thought
about how you might get the new hat or how you might get a ticket to
the show. But it was all no use. You just didn't see any way to get
what you wanted, yet you would not give up. That new hat or the ticket
would bob up and keep on bobbing up in your mind and dancing before
your eyes. Well, that is the way it was with Bully that lovely spring
morning. He couldn't get rid of the longing to have all the other frogs
come and share his home with him any more than a hungry boy could quit
thinking about the dinner he wanted.
While he was thinking and thinking, a shadow passed swiftly before his
face and made him jump. In another moment there was a whirr of wings
and his friend the Lark was beside him. "My," said Bully, "how you made
me jump!"
The Lark sang merrily, "I saw you sitting here looking so glum I
thought I would frighten you a bit. But, friend Bully, what is your
trouble? You ought to be hopping about trying out that voice of yours
for the spring chorus instead of spending this fine morning in the
dumps on this log."
"Well," said Bully, "I am worried and will tell you all about it, but I
don't suppose it will do any good." But he brightened up a bit and told
the Lark Grandmother Bull Frog's story of the bad boys and the frogs.
"Is that all that's bothering you?" asked his friend as he gobbled up a
grasshopper that had been thoughtless enough to settle on the log near
them.
"All!" exclaimed Bully. "Don't you think it's enough to make any frog
feel badly?"
"Why, I suppose it is," replied the Lark after thinking a moment.
"But I see many worse things happen to your family every day. Anyway,
I don't think you can help things by making yourself so unhappy. Of
course I would help all the frogs," he hastened to say, "but I see no
way, and it keeps me busy looking out for my own family."
"What worse things do you see happen?" asked Bully.
"Oh," replied the Lark, "sometimes I see snakes swallow frogs whole.
Often I see ducks, geese, and other big birds eat them. I see turtles
eat them, too, and every now and then I see big water bugs destroying
frogs' eggs. And I think," he went on to say, "the very worst thing
of all that I see is men sitting on the bank, putting a fish hook
right through a live frog, and then throwing the line in the water and
jerking the frog about. Oh," he fluttered, "that's too dreadfully cruel
to look at! I always fly away as quickly as I can and try to forget it.
All these things are very, very dreadful," he said. "I can't bear to
think about them."
Bully looked horrified. His big, round eyes nearly bulged out of his
head and had such a frightened look. "Do you mean to tell me," he
asked, "that all this is true?"
"Why, yes," said the Lark. "Do you think I would make up such dreadful
stories? No, indeed, I couldn't think up such wicked things. But cheer
up, Bully. It will do the other frogs no good for us to worry about
them and it will only make us unhappy."
Bully was so sad he could just croak weakly, "Oo-oo, if only all the
frogs could come here and live with us!"
"That would be splendid," said the Lark, "but that dreadful noise you
make each evening would be much louder than it is now, and I think the
birds would all go crazy."
"Don't you like it?" asked Bully innocently. "That is our grand frog
chorus. Surely it's the most beautiful music in the whole world."
Now the Lark, as we all know, is one of the finest singers in woods and
fields. "Oh, pardon me, I didn't know it was singing," he said, as he
put his head under his wing to hide a smile. "But if you do invite all
those other frogs to come here, I think I shall make my home in another
neighborhood."
Bully wondered why he should want to move away from the banks of the
Frog Pond. Surely, thought he, there's not a better neighborhood in
Rainbow Valley. He could only think his friend must be joking. "Well,"
said Bully sighing, "you needn't move. I don't suppose we shall ever
invite them. How can we get an invitation to them? If only there were
some way to get them word of this lovely place, I'm sure they would
come."
The Lark looked at Bully for a moment, then stretched first one wing
and then the other as far as he could, smoothing each feather until
exactly right. He then flirted his tail this way and that, looked over
his breast-feathers very carefully, and at last decided he was in
perfect trim. He settled down on the old log much pleased with himself
as he quietly pulled a big, fat worm out of a hole and ate it.
Bully sat looking at him thoughtfully. He admired this handsome friend
of the forest and was much pleased when at last he said, "If you really
want a messenger, I think I could take your invitation."
"You?" said Bully, and his eyes bulged larger than ever. "Could you
really fly that far?" he asked.
"Oh, of course I could, and much farther," answered the Lark. "You see,
my family were all hatched two weeks ago. Mother Lark can easily care
for the babies. I am sure she would be perfectly willing for me to go.
She knows I need rest and a little vacation. You know, I worked pretty
hard helping to build the nest and singing to her while she sat on the
eggs. She will not mind at all, I'm sure, if I go."
"Oh," said Bully, "you are the very best bird in the world! When could
you start?"
"Today, I suppose," replied the Lark. "I shall fly around by the nest
and tell Mother Lark. I am quite sure she will be pleased to have me do
this for you."
"It will be fine if you can start today," said Bully. "Be sure to tell
them all about the valley and the pond."
"Surely I will," the Lark sang out. "Now perch on this old log and
watch out for me when you think it's about time for me to get back.
Will you?" asked the Lark.
Of course Bully would. With a hasty good-by the Lark rose in the air.
Higher and higher up in the blue sky he flew, singing as he went.
Bully sat looking into the sky long after the Lark was out of sight and
at last said to himself, "I think next to a bullfrog a lark is the very
finest singer in the world. But I must hurry and tell Grandfather Bull
Frog all about our plan."
MRS. TOAD ARRIVES
It was not a great while until every frog in the pond had heard that
the Lark had gone to invite all the other frogs to come and make their
home in Rainbow Valley. Some thought it was foolish to think of such
a thing. Others thought the plan a good one, but said the Lark would
not be able to tell all of them. There were others who said that,
while they hoped more frogs would come, they didn't suppose a great
many would care to travel so far. Grandfather Bull Frog said it was a
splendid plan and he hoped they would come, for there was room enough
in Rainbow Valley for all. Bully thought about it almost every minute
of the day. He was so anxious for them to begin to come. He wondered
about them by day and dreamed of them by night. He couldn't think of
anything else, and he was often late to dinner and never on time for
the evening concert. Grandmother was a bit worried about him, for he
never seemed to hear what she was saying to him. He didn't seem to be
ill, yet he took no interest in play or in his meals. Had she asked
him, Bully could have told her why. He was busy thinking of the fun he
would have with all the other young frogs. He wondered and wondered how
many kinds of frogs there were, and when they would reach the pond.
Would there be any little boy and girl frogs, or would the newcomers
all be big, grown-up frogs? All his plans would be spoiled if no young
frogs came. How many frogs would there be? What would they look like?
Would they like this new home? These were only a few of the many
questions Bully was trying to answer to his own satisfaction.
One morning he slept later than usual. I don't know whether he would
have waked when he did if old Mr. Sun, peeping slyly through the tree
tops, had not sent a bright ray of light straight into his face. Bully
rubbed his eyes sleepily, and was about to hide under a big waterlily
to take another nap, when the merry spring breezes came rushing madly
through the tree tops. They tossed the branches of the trees about,
and laughed gaily as the little seeds came whirling down, their wings
spread out like tiny sails. The little seeds looked like hundreds and
hundreds of butterflies as they came tumbling all about the lily pad
where Bully was thinking about taking another nap. One little seed
pecked him softly on the nose. He woke with a start. Then all at once
he heard a queer noise. It was like the far-off distant hum of a swarm
of bees, or like the gurgling sound of a laughing brook rippling over
its bubbly bed. Bully sat up straight. He was curious to know at once
what the noise was all about. It didn't take him long to find out.
Looking out from under the lily pad, he saw most of the frogs sitting
under a big tree on the bank of the pond. They were all crowded around
a strange visitor and were all asking her questions at the same time.
"Where did you come from?" "How did you get here?" "Did the Lark tell
you of this place?" These and many other questions they asked without
giving the stranger time to answer one of them.
The visitor sat in their midst looking about with a broad smile on her
face. She wasn't trying to answer all those questions. In fact, she
had no chance to do so. Bully saw that she was short and fat and that
her skin was rough and warty. Her hind legs were shorter than a frog's
hind legs. He thought her a very ugly-looking creature. Just then some
one near him whispered, "My, what beautiful eyes she has!" Then for the
first time he noticed the visitor's eyes. Sure enough, they were large,
dark, and beautiful, with a soft, kind light in them. They made him
forget all about her ugly coat. He wondered who she was.
Then Grandfather Bull Frog began to speak. When he spoke, everyone else
always kept silent. "I'm a little ashamed," he said, turning to the
frogs on the bank. "You are asking this stranger so many questions at
one time that she cannot answer any of them. This," he told them, "is
our honored cousin, Mrs. Toad. We are glad she has come to live among
us, and I hope you will all try to make her very welcome."
At this they all croaked loudly. "You are welcome, Mrs. Toad, indeed
you're very welcome to our home."
"Now," Grandfather Bull Frog said, "I have decided that Mrs. Toad may
live under the big rock at the farther side of the pond. If you will
all be quiet, I will ask her to tell us her story."
The frogs all promised to keep still, so Mrs. Toad began:
"I may as well begin by telling you about myself. The very first
thing I remember is only a few summers ago when I was a little toad
living with many others like myself in a big country road. We thought
that a very good place to live. We knew no better. It was great fun
hopping about making the dust fly. You see, many autos, wagons, and
other things on wheels passed up and down that road. Soon I found it
a dangerous place for us to live. While I always succeeded in dodging
the big wheels as they rolled by, I often saw them crush other little
toads to death. As this place was so full of danger, I decided one day
to start out and see if I couldn't find a safer home. I traveled about
for a few days until I came to a beautiful cabbage field with a fine
wire fence around it. Peeping through this fence, I could see long rows
of cabbages with many fat green worms crawling about on them. This was
enough for me. I at once decided to move in and make the cabbage field
my new home.
"I lived here in this place for some time. The gardener who owned the
field raised vegetables to sell. He seemed glad to have me stay. He
was very careful never to strike me with his hoe and was kind to me
in every way. I tried to repay his kindness by destroying as many bugs
and worms as I could eat. His children were good to me, too, and often
brought me choice bits from the table, which I enjoyed very much. The
little boys and girls would laugh merrily as they dropped a bit of food
to see me catch it quickly on my tongue and eat it. This garden home
suited me so well I thought I should never leave it.
"One day when the family were away from home I was dozing under a big
leaf when a boy jumped over the wire fence. Quick as a wink he had me
shut up in a small box and was running off with me. I was frightened,
of course, but there was nothing to do but go with him peaceably.
"By and by I learned that a rich woman who lived in the city had
advertised for toads. She had a lovely garden where she raised
beautiful flowers and she offered a good price to any boy who would
bring her some toads to put in her garden. The boy sold me to this
woman, who put me in her flower garden. The garden was at her city
home, where she lived with her husband and two charming daughters. I
often watched the young ladies as they sat on the wide front porch with
their many friends. Just over the way lived another family. The houses
were not far apart. These people also had a pleasant home. The man was
a doctor who took care of a great many sick people. He had a lovely
wife and two handsome boys. They were fine young fellows, but, like
many other boys, were full of mischief, especially the older one. He
usually kept things lively for both families.
"One summer evening some time after I had come to live in the flower
garden, the two young ladies were sitting on the front porch pretending
to read. I think really they were looking for some young men who came
often to call on them, for I saw that one of them was holding her paper
upside down, and the other kept lifting her eyes from the book on her
lap and looking down the street as if she were expecting some one. It
had been a dreadfully hot day. The leaves of the plants curled up like
little corkscrews, and the grass was quite brown in places. The air was
dry and no breeze was blowing. Even the garden seemed hot and stuffy.
The woman came out of the house, fastened the hose to the water faucet,
and began to sprinkle the flowers. She was very fond of the flowers and
always cared for them herself. I was among the plants amusing myself by
catching fireflies. My, how good and cool that water seemed! Very soon
the plants began to lift up their heads and the leaves to uncurl. The
flowers fairly seemed to smile. While the cool water trickled down my
back I sat looking at them, snapping up one firefly after another. As I
sat watching the water as it showered over the thirsty flowers and the
dry grass, the mischievous boy who lived across the way came slipping
round the house. He was smiling slyly and looking first toward where
I sat and then at the young ladies. I could see plainly that he was
planning some mischief. Before I knew what he was up to, he had picked
me up and started toward the porch. You should have seen the young
ladies then. They didn't stop for anything, but dropped book and paper,
took one hasty look at me, and sprang for the door, crying out, 'O you
dreadful, dreadful boy!'
"They ran into the house as fast as they could go, slamming the door
and locking it after them. Now why should anyone be afraid of me? I'm
sure I don't know. I can see why people should be afraid of a snake or
a savage dog, but to be afraid of a harmless toad is more than I can
understand. I know I'm not handsome, as I am rather fat and have warts
on my skin. I have seen some people, too, who were fat and not so very
handsome and yet I didn't run from them. And there are some folks silly
enough to believe that if you touch a toad, you, too, will have warts.
I don't believe any such thing. That boy who liked mischief didn't seem
to be afraid either of me or of my warts.
"Well, when the girls ran away from the boy, he started for the woman.
She was so busy with the hose that for a moment she did not realize
what he was up to. Then, seeing him spring toward her with me in his
hand, she, too, started to run and cried out, 'Don't you put that toad
on me! Don't you dare do such a thing!'
"She ran toward the house, but was so excited her foot caught in the
hose, and down she fell. The end of the hose with the nozzle flopped
around and sprayed all over her as she lay on the ground. The boy,
thinking she might be hurt, dropped me and ran to help her up. But the
woman, thinking he still had me in his hand, cried, 'Go away, go away,
you dreadful boy! If you put that toad on me, I'll paddle you well!'
Finally he made her understand he had dropped me and was trying to
help her to her feet. My, but she was a sight when she got up! Her
hair, like wet strings, hung straight down her back. The water ran in
little streams down her face and dropped from her nose and chin. Her
clothes were as wet as though she had fallen in the river. Of course
she had to go in at once and change them.
"After it was all over the young ladies came out on the porch and
laughed and laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks. The boy
laughed, too, but he lay down and rolled over on the wet grass and
laughed as though he'd never stop. No one seemed a bit cross about it.
Even the woman, after she had changed her wet clothes for dry ones, had
to smile when she saw the boy and the girls laughing so heartily. At
first I couldn't see the joke. But finally I saw they were not laughing
at me, as I supposed, but at the woman who got drenched so thoroughly.
When I saw through the joke, I just hopped in among the flowers where
I would not be noticed, and I, too, had the best laugh of my lifetime.
Now, as I look back, I think it was the very funniest thing I ever
saw happen. And just think, I was the cause of it all! Or perhaps I
had better say the boy and I together made it all happen. If some
women I've met had got such a ducking, there would have been a regular
neighborhood row over it. But it didn't seem to make any difference
between those two families. If anything, they seemed to think all the
more of each other.
"I tell you, I liked that home, but there were no other toads near and
so I was often lonely. I do so enjoy company and a good friendly visit
at times. Then the mischievous boy, while he never hurt me, kept me
upset most of the time by carrying me around in his big, warm hand. I
was always wishing he would let me alone just as the man in the cabbage
patch did.
"Yesterday morning after a good night's sleep I was sitting among the
flowers thinking of what I was going to have for breakfast, when
your friend, the Lark, lit on a rose bush in the garden. He began to
plume his feathers and look about him. Finally he spied me down in
between two tall plants. 'Good morning!' he said, 'aren't you lonely in
this flower garden?'
[Illustration: "_Good morning," said the Lark, "aren't you lonely in
this flower garden?_"]
"I told him I was very lonely at times, especially when the boy over
the way was not around. Then I told him how I came there, what kind of
folks lived there, and about the boy who so frightened me at times.
'Why don't you go and live at the Frog Pond?' he said. 'What Frog
Pond?' I asked. He then told me all about this beautiful place in
Rainbow Valley. And when he said there were no boys here, I wanted to
start right off. He told me he had been sent to tell about the place
and to invite frogs to come here. Perhaps he thought I didn't look just
like a frog, so that was why he said it. I told him I was first cousin
to the frogs. Then he said he was sure it was all right for me to come.
"We talked together for some time, the Lark explaining your plan to
have all the frogs come to what he called 'the old Frog Pond' in
Rainbow Valley. I asked him how far it was to the pond and the way to
get there. He was very careful to tell me all I needed to know and then
said he must be going, as there were a great many others he wished to
see that day.
"After he was gone I sat for a long time thinking of what he had told
me. The more I thought of it the more I wanted to go. I did like my
home in the flower garden, but I never knew what prank that mischievous
boy would play on me. This kept me so restless I could hardly enjoy my
meals or get a good night's rest. After thinking the matter over for a
long time, I made up my mind to go. So that very evening after the sun
was down and the shadows began to fall I said good-by to the garden,
took a last look at the two houses and the garden hose, and slipped
softly away. I traveled 'most all night. This morning, as the first
faint streak of light appeared in the east, I heard a great croaking. I
was tired, but I quickened my steps, for I felt I was nearing the pond.
Sure enough, in a very short time I saw the water and the big rock. I
knew then that I was at the right place. I think I am very fortunate
to get here so soon. I am sure I shall like this home. And now, if you
will excuse me, I will go over to the big rock and rest awhile."
As Mrs. Toad turned away, every frog began hunting his breakfast. All
were well pleased that so fine a person as Mrs. Toad had come to live
with them.
BULLY'S NEW COAT
For several hours black clouds heavy with rain had hung low over the
Frog Pond. The gentle spring raindrops came softly down, giving a
little pat now and then to the little buds on the trees which had been
trying to open their sleepy eyes for several days. In the morning the
wind tossed and tumbled the black storm clouds about until they looked
like huge, billowy gray blankets. The warm spring sun shone down,
gently touching each little bud until it opened its eyes and burst into
full bloom.
All the little creeping and crawling creatures were moving about. All
the little flying insects were sailing through the air. The bees were
flitting from flower to flower as if they would taste the sweetness of
each of them.
It seemed to Bully that the world, his little world, had never been as
beautiful as when he opened his eyes that spring morning. All the frogs
seemed to be enjoying the loveliness, for the woods fairly rang with
their cheerful croakings.
Did I say Bully was singing? If I did, it was all a mistake. Bully
wasn't even thinking of singing. He was sitting on his lily pad
thinking how uncomfortable he felt. If we had been near enough, no
doubt we should have heard him sigh every once in a while. I'm pretty
sure he groaned a bit, too, although it might have been something he
was muttering to himself. But there was no need to worry, for Bully was
not ill. He felt a great deal as you feel after dinner on Thanksgiving
Day. You know that then you would like to put on your older sister's or
brother's clothes, as your own seem too tight for you. The trouble is,
you have been greedy. A young frog is one of the greediest creatures in
the world. He will eat bees and flies and ants, grasshoppers, wiggly
worms, crawly bugs, and any kind of flying thing--about every little
live thing that's small enough to go down his throat.
Bully had been gorging this way for several days, so don't be surprised
if I tell you his clothes were too small for him. His coat was tight,
his vest was tight, and his trousers and stockings even tighter.
No matter whether he sat down, stood up, or moved about, he was
uncomfortable. He was sure he could not put another thing into his
stomach until he wore a bigger suit of clothes.
Did you think a frog's clothes would stretch--that his clothes grow as
he grows? Well, that is not true. His clothes are not made of rubber.
They will stretch but very, very little.
But where did Bully's suit come from? His mother did not make it for
him. In fact, he did not ask her to make him one, for the reason he
didn't know which frog was his mother. Isn't that sad--never to know
your own mother? You remember I told you that his mother, after laying
her eggs in the shallow water, swam away and paid no more attention to
them. But Bully didn't worry about his mother. He had early learned
to look out for himself, so he didn't feel the need of her. He could
even get a new suit all by himself. If we could watch him, we should
see him hump his back, bend his arms and legs, and twist himself about
in many funny ways. Very soon something would go r-r-rip, and we should
see his clothes burst open clear down the back. He would then begin to
pull out his arms and legs. When these were out he would pull the old
clothes off over his head just the way a boy takes off his shirt. The
old clothes would be off. Well, that is just what happened. Perhaps you
think he stood there on his lily pad in his underclothes, shivering in
the cool spring breezes. But he didn't, for Mother Nature had already
made him a new suit and he had it on right under his old clothes. When
his old clothes came off he was already dressed--dressed in his Sunday
best. How he did smile when he saw the new suit! How handsome it was,
with its back of green, with splashes of brown sprinkled here and
there on it! How beautiful the vest was! Not a wrinkle! It was a soft,
light yellow. He smoothed the shining coat and vest and the bright new
trousers and stockings. He leaned over the edge of the lily pad and
gazed at the picture he saw of himself in the water. What a splendid
suit it was! Just big enough, a perfect fit without a wrinkle anywhere.
Do you wonder he laughed softly as he saw himself in his looking glass?
We won't blame him at all if he was a bit vain, for we all like to see
and have beautiful clothes.
He was just about to jump off the lily pad when he thought of his old
suit. What should he do with it? He didn't once think of going away and
leaving it lying on the lily pad as some children we know leave their
night clothes on the floor when they dress in the morning. He might
have rolled it off into the water, but that wouldn't do, either. That
would be just like kicking it under the bed to get it out of sight.
He couldn't hang it up, for there was no place to hang it. What do you
suppose he did? It didn't take Bully long to decide what to do with
it. He put it out of sight in a jiffy, but not under his bed or in the
closet. You remember he hadn't had any breakfast and was pretty hungry,
as it had taken him so long to dress--or rather to undress--that
morning. He felt almost anything would taste good, even his old coat.
He not only felt hungry enough to eat his coat, he really ate it.
First he rolled it carefully into a ball, then put it into his mouth,
and, with one gulp, down it went. Think of it--a breakfast of one's old
coat! That was Bully's first and last meal that morning. And the funny
thing about it was, he not only felt that he had had his breakfast, but
that he had made his bed and put his room to rights in quite the proper
way.
Bully jumped into the water to take his morning swim with all his
brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. He wasn't at all
afraid the water would spoil that new suit. No, indeed, he knew water
wouldn't hurt it in the least. Water on Bully's coat is like fresh
paint on an old building. It makes it look bright and clean. How he did
enjoy swimming that morning! It was such a comfy suit. He could stretch
his arms and legs as far as he wished without a thought of distress or
a fear of tearing his new suit. There was such a comfortable feeling in
his stomach, as though now he could eat all he wanted. In his new suit
he thought himself the happiest and the handsomest boy frog in the pond
that morning.
A RUDE STRANGER
It was almost evening. The big round sun was growing larger and redder
as the clouds spread their white, fleecy blanket over him as they were
putting him to bed. The spring wind, which had howled fiercely all
through the long day, tossing things about from place to place, had now
become a gentle evening breeze which whispered softly among the leaves
and grasses. The evening shadows were gently creeping under the trees
as Bully climbed onto the log once more. He was very happy to-night.
Every frog about the Pond seemed to feel happy, too. Did they not have
the most beautiful spot on the whole earth for a home? He sat watching
the butterflies chase each other, darting swiftly here and there under
the trees and over the still water. Their red and yellow wings looked
very beautiful as the sun shot his last beam of light through a break
in the clouds. Some of those wings at that moment looked like pure
gold. Grandfather Bull Frog was beginning to call loudly from the
island. It was time for the full chorus. How fine it was to be a frog,
thought Bully as he sat there listening as a voice called first here
then there.
"Yes, it's just splendid to be a frog," he said to himself.
He thought he was alone until he was rudely pushed to one side by a big
strange frog. "Here," said the newcomer, "wake up, you sleepy little
frog, and tell us if this is the place we are looking for."
Bully quickly turned around. There, right beside him, sat two very
big frogs. They looked larger even than Grandfather Bull Frog or
Grandmother Bull Frog, although they were really not any larger. "Can't
you talk?" they said. "Is this the Frog Pond the Lark told us about?"
"Y-e-s, I think it is," said Bully. He was frightened. Yes, truly he
was afraid of those strange frogs. They didn't look one bit friendly.
"Now tell us," the stranger went on, "who is it we see on the island
over there?"
"That," Bully was at last able to say, "is Grandfather Bull Frog. He
rules this Pond. Shall I take you to see him?"
"You needn't do any such thing, youngster," the stranger replied. "I
can attend to that myself."
The stranger was not at all polite. Bully didn't know what was best to
do. He was afraid even to get off the log unless he was told he might
do so.
The strange frog got slowly to the ground, jumped into the water, and
swam to the island. Then Bully sprang off the log as quickly as he
could. He was a bit afraid of Mrs. Stranger, who was still sitting
there. But he swam quickly over to his lily pad and climbed upon it,
for he wanted to hear what the stranger said to Grandfather Bull Frog.
Grandfather Bull Frog saw the strange frog coming toward the island and
went to meet him.
"I am very glad to welcome you to our Frog Pond," said he.
The stranger did not reply at once. By and by he said, "This is a nice
island."
"Yes, it is," answered Grandfather Bull Frog.
"I think," said the stranger, "I will take it for my home. You can find
a place for yourself somewhere else."
Grandfather Bull Frog was too much surprised at first to reply. But he
finally said, "You don't seem to understand how it is. You see, I am
the ruler of this Frog Pond and the island is my home."
"That makes no difference," said the stranger slowly. "It's going to be
my island now, and you must get off at once, for I'm going to take it."
With that he began to puff out his cheeks, bulge out his big eyes, and
snap his teeth together. He looked as if he were ready to swallow poor
old Grandfather Bull Frog whole. While he kept up this threatening
manner, he moved closer and closer to Grandfather, with his body very
close to the ground. He didn't hop, but crept up an inch or two at a
time, with his wicked eyes fixed on Grandfather Bull Frog. It certainly
looked as if a very bad frog had arrived.
Bully had thought the strange frog looked anything but friendly when
he first saw him on the log, but now he looked ten times more wicked.
Where Bully sat he could see and hear everything that was going on. He
watched Grandfather closely to see how he would take what the stranger
was saying and doing. Would he frighten him into giving up the island?
Bully was afraid he might. Bully thought he wouldn't blame Grandfather
very much if he did, for the strange frog certainly looked both bad and
big.
But Grandfather Frog didn't say a word. At first he looked surprised,
then his handsome old face clouded all over with the most fearful rage.
His big eyes fairly blazed with wrath, his cheeks puffed out hugely,
and all at once he seemed much bigger than the bad stranger. He didn't
move back an inch as he saw the bad frog coming toward him. He planted
his big feet more firmly on the ground, as though about to make a
mighty leap. He stretched out his neck with his chin almost touching
the ground. Then, opening his big mouth and showing all his sharp
teeth, he made one short leap and landed right on the back of that
wicked stranger.
Grandfather jumped so suddenly and with so much force, that the bad
frog was knocked down and rolled over and over on his back in the dirt.
He was taken entirely by surprise, for he expected Grandfather to be
so frightened he would leave the island without a fight. But before
he knew what was happening, he was down, with Grandfather's big teeth
gripping him in his side. My, how it hurt! He began to see his folly
and the danger he was in and he wished he had been good. He saw that
he must make the fight of his life. So, watching his chance, he sank
his teeth into Grandfather's side. This made Grandfather bite all the
harder, and sink his big teeth in all the deeper.
Each one holding onto the other, they rolled about in the dust,
kicking, biting, and scratching. Grandfather stuck one of his fingers
into the left eye of the bad frog, which almost made him let go, but
just then the strange frog stuck his knee into Grandfather's stomach,
almost knocking the breath out of him. He pulled his finger out of the
bad frog's eye to hold it for a moment on his own stomach. The fight
went on. Now the stranger was down on his back, and now Grandfather was
under the stranger. They were so evenly matched in size and strength
that it was hard to tell who would win.
But there was a bit of difference. Grandfather was in the right, and
knew it, while the bad frog was in the wrong, and he knew it, too. It
makes one strong to feel he is in the right. Grandfather was fighting
for his home and family, and the stranger was fighting for that which
didn't belong to him. This made the one strong and the other weak.
It was a dreadful battle to those who looked on. Every frog in the pond
was too frightened to come near. Most of them jumped into the water
and swam out of sight of it, while others hid under leaves and stones
or behind logs. Once in a while the braver ones would put their noses
out and take a peep at the fighters and then dodge quickly back. A
stillness hung over the whole Frog Pond. If anyone spoke, he did so in
a whisper. The frogs had never seen two big frogs fight before. Neither
had they ever seen dear old Grandfather look so terrible.
On went the fight. Neither was willing to give up. Sometimes it looked
as if Grandfather would surely win, then the bad frog would succeed in
getting on top and it looked as if he would win. Bully could see that
Grandfather was on top most of the time, yet he was afraid for him
just the same. The big frog was giving him about all he could do. Both
were now breathing hard and fighting as if for life.
The big round moon came up and looked down on them through the trees.
She could see the frogs fighting, and Bully fancied there was a scowl
on her usually smiling face. And he wondered what she thought of such
a sight. The little stars peeped down upon the island. They did not
seem to twinkle and sparkle as usual. The wind sighed and moaned in the
treetops. The dew fell on the leaves and grasses. Bully thought it very
like tears Mother Nature was shedding over the dreadful battle being
fought on the island. Oh, why had the Lark invited the bad frog to come
to the island to spoil their happiness!
There was no evening concert. Not a frog sang even one note. The only
sound was that low, muffled, rolling-about noise over on the island. It
was almost midnight. But not a frog had thought of sleep. But at last
the sounds grew fainter and fainter. Bully wondered if Grandfather Bull
Frog was dying. Perhaps they both were dying. How he wished he knew!
Oh, if he could only see how the fight was going! He wondered why some
of the other frogs didn't do something to help Grandfather. All of them
seemed too terrified to think of anything. They just kept out of sight.
Finally Bully could stand it no longer. He slipped off his lily pad and
swam over to the island and quietly peeped through the tall grasses.
They were still fighting, and poor old Grandfather Bull Frog seemed
very weak. He looked as if he couldn't hold out much longer. But the
strange frog looked as if he would soon have to quit also. Bully was
very sure Grandfather needed help. He rushed through the grass and went
right up to that big strange frog. He set his little sharp teeth into
the side of the strange frog's cheek and hung on with all his might.
The strange frog couldn't hurt him without letting go of Grandfather
Bull Frog. So Bully hung on. All three rolled about in the dust. At
last the strange frog let go of Grandfather Bull Frog and fell back.
Bully put his cold little nose against him to let him know he was
sorry. He stayed close by until morning. By that time Grandfather was
able to hop about a little. The big strange frog moved about some, too.
When Bully and Grandfather went up to him, he drew back, saying, "Don't
kill me, please don't! And please let me stay here. I will be good."
"No," said Grandfather Bull Frog, "I am not going to kill you. And you
may stay if you will promise never again to try to take this island."
The big frog promised. And he was as good as his word. Like some people
who have to learn their lessons in life by sad experience, this strange
frog never forgot the lesson of that awful night. He became a wiser and
better frog and one of Grandfather's best friends.
JOHN BULL FROG'S STORY