"h.e.l.lo, Grandfather Frog!" they shouted, as they peeped into the spring.

"How do you like your new home?"

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

"Why--why--why, Grandfather Frog, what is the matter now?" they cried.

"Chugarum," said Grandfather Frog, and his voice sounded all choky, "I can't get out."

Then they noticed for the first time how straight and smooth the walls of the spring were and how far down Grandfather Frog was, and they knew that he spoke the truth. They tried bending down the gra.s.ses that grew around the edge of the spring, but none were long enough to reach the water. If they had stopped to think, they would have known that Grandfather Frog couldn't have climbed up by them, anyway. Then they tried to lift a big stick into the spring, but it was too heavy for them, and they couldn't move it. However, they did manage to blow an old shingle in, and this gave Grandfather Frog something to sit on, so that he began to feel a little better. Then they said all the comforting things they could think of. They told him that no harm could come to him there, unless Farmer Brown's boy should happen to see him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "That's just what I'm afraid of!" croaked Grandfather Frog. _Page 109_.]

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

"Perhaps he won't come," said one of the Little Breezes hopefully.

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

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

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

XXII

GRANDFATHER FROG'S TROUBLES GROW

Head first in; no way out; It's best to know what you're about!

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

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

At last he got it through his head, and drawing a very long breath, he dived into the water and swam under the old shingle. He was just in time. Yes, Sir, he was just in time. If Farmer Brown's boy hadn't been thinking of something else, he certainly would have noticed the little rings on the water made by Grandfather Frog when he dived in. But he was thinking of something else, and it wasn't until he dipped a cup in for the second time that he even saw the old shingle.

"h.e.l.lo!" he exclaimed. "That must have blown in since I was here yesterday. We can't have anything like that in our nice spring."

With that he reached out for the old shingle, and Grandfather Frog, hiding under it, gave himself up for lost. But the anxious Little Breeze had been watching sharply and the instant he saw what Farmer Brown's boy was going to do, he played the old, old trick of s.n.a.t.c.hing his hat from his head. The truth is, he couldn't think of anything else to do. Farmer Brown's boy grabbed at his hat, and then, because he was in a hurry and had other things to do, he started off without once thinking of the old shingle again.

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

Nothing more happened for a long time, and Grandfather Frog was wondering if it wouldn't be safe to take a nap when he saw peeping over the edge above him two eyes. They were greenish yellow eyes, and they stared and stared. Grandfather Frog stared and stared back. He just couldn't help it. He didn't know who they belonged to. He couldn't remember ever having seen them before. He was afraid, and yet somehow he couldn't make up his mind to jump. He stared so hard at the eyes that he didn't notice a long furry paw slowly, very slowly, reaching down towards him. Nearer it crept and nearer. Then suddenly it moved like a flash. Grandfather Frog felt sharp claws in his white and yellow waistcoat, and before he could even open his mouth to cry "Chugarum," he was sent flying through the air and landed on his back in the gra.s.s.

Pounce! Two paws pinned him down, and the greenish yellow eyes were not an inch from his own. They belonged to Black p.u.s.s.y, Farmer Brown's cat.

XXIII

THE DEAR OLD SMILING POOL ONCE MORE

Black p.u.s.s.y was having a good time. Grandfather Frog wasn't. It was great fun for Black p.u.s.s.y to slip a paw under Grandfather Frog and toss him up in the air. It was still more fun to pretend to go away, but to hide instead, and the instant Grandfather Frog started off, to pounce upon him and cuff him and roll him about. But there wasn't any fun in it for Grandfather Frog. In the first place, he didn't know whether or not Black p.u.s.s.y liked Frogs to eat, and he was terribly frightened. In the second place, Black p.u.s.s.y didn't always cover up her claws, and they p.r.i.c.ked right through Grandfather Frog's white and yellow waistcoat and hurt, for he is very tender there.

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

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

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

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

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

"h.e.l.lo, Black p.u.s.s.y! Have you been hunting? Come here and show me what you've got," cried a voice.

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

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

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

Farmer Brown's boy had taken off his coat and thrown it down.

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

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

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