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Before the thunder of Giles Scott's first rap had ceased, a pane of glass in one of the lower windows burst, and out came dense volumes of smoke, with a red tongue or two piercing them here and there, showing that the fire had been smouldering long, and had got well alight. It was followed by an appalling shriek from Mrs Frog, who rushed forward shouting, "Oh! baby! baby!"
Peter nodded and Grandfather Frog went on. "Now Old King Bear was the great-great-ever-so-great grandfather of Buster Bear, and he looked very much as Buster does, except that he didn't have any tail at all, not the least sign of a tail. At first, before he was made king of the Green Forest, he didn't mind this at all. In fact, he was rather pleased that he didn't have a tail.
The Lavender Bear and the little Pink Bear received much attention and were honored by all, much to the Bear King's satisfaction. The Frogman speedily became a favorite at the Emerald City, and the Shaggy Man and Tik-Tok and Jack Pumpkinhead, who had now returned from their search, were very polite to the big frog and made him feel quite at home.
Yet he was previous; an hour or more elapsed with no sound or stir save the song of the locust in the brush or the frog stirring in his mudhole. At last, when the ultimate faint rays of the moon were spent in the rosy dimness of the dawn, the silhouette of a soldier loomed at the end of the trail.
The connection of this discourse with the Loan Collection of Scientific Apparatus arises out of the exhibition in that collection of certain aids to our laboratory work. Such of you as have visited that very interesting collection may have noticed a series of diagrams and of preparations illustrating the structure of a frog.
Then, all of a sudden, along hopped Bully and Bawly, the frog boys. The ball game had been stopped on account of the rain, you know. “Oh, look!” cried Bully. “We must save Grandpa from that snake!” “That’s what we must!” shouted Bawly. “Here, we’ll make him unwind himself from Grandpa and the toadstool and then hit him with our baseball bats.”
He made his own intention plain beyond any possibility of misunderstanding. He lay down and pulled the blanket over his shoulders, cuddled his pillow under his head, and disposed himself to sleep. The moon climbed higher, and sent silvery splinters of light quivering down among the trees. A frog crawled out upon a great lily pad and croaked dismally.
So he answered in a friendly way, hoping to pacify his feelings. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frog, but I didn't see you on the lily-pad. The fact is, your head is exactly the color of the lily-pad, and no one could distinguish it a few feet away. What a lovely green it is, too your head, I mean." Mr. Bull-Frog was apparently as susceptible to flattery as Mr. Crow, and his ruffled feelings began to subside.
Green Cloak would be hard to miss because of his jockey's colours old gold, scarlet sleeves, and green and black quartered cap. The bell has hardly rung to announce that the race has begun when men in the crowd begin to dogmatise about the result. One man keeps saying: "Green Cloak wins this race. Green Cloak wins this race." Another says: "Liberal leads." Another says: "No; that's Jumping Frog."
Some of them went east, some of them went west, some of them went north, some of them went south, all looking for fat, foolish, green flies for Grandfather Frog. By and by they came skipping back, one by one, to the edge of the Smiling Pool, each with a fat, foolish, green fly, and each stopping to give Mrs. Redwing's cradle a gentle push.
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