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So Bawly picked up the hammer and he threw it carefully toward the roof, but, would you believe me, he threw it so hard that it went right over the house, chimney and all, and fell down on the other side. “My! You are too strong!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily laughing so that his fur shook. “Try again, Bully, if you please.” “Oh, I’m Bawly, not Bully,” said the frog boy.
And on the next page, if the lilac bush in our back yard doesn’t reach in through the window, and take off my typewriter ribbon to wear to Sunday school, I’ll tell you about Bully and Bawly playing Indian. It happened, once upon a time, after the circus had gone away from the place where Bully and Bawly No-Tail, the frogs, lived that a Wild West show came along. And my goodness!
Bully tried to stand on his head, but his foot slipped and he nearly fell into the ink bottle. “Please let us go, mother?” “Where? Where?” she asked again, as Bawly hopped out of her lap. “To the circus!” cried Bully. “It’s coming!” exclaimed Bawly. “Down in the vacant lots,” went on Bully. “Oh, you ought to see the posters!
No-Tail gave them each a penny, though, of course, they would have gone without that, for they always liked to help their mamma. “I want some sugar, and molasses, and bread, and butter, and some corn meal, and bacon and watercress salad,” said the mother frog, and Bully and Bawly each took a basket in which to carry the things. Then they hopped on toward the store.
And he thought of how his teacher couldn’t live in the nice green country as he did, for she had to stay in a boarding-house in the city, to be near her school, and she couldn’t see the flowers growing in the woods as often as could Bawly, for she nearly always had to stay in after school to write in the report-books.
“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.” Well, Bawly begged and pleaded, but it was of no use.
“Oh, but they have real guns and knives to kill the bears with,” objected Bawly, “and our guns and knives will only be wooden.” “Well, maybe it will be better to only pretend it’s night in the woods,” agreed Bully. “We can go in a dark place under the trees, and make believe it’s night, and that will do just as well.”
“Good!” cried the clown. “That was a great jump! Will you stay in the circus with me? I will pay you as much as I pay my dog.” “Oh, no! They must go home,” said their papa, as Bully and Bawly went back to their seats. “That is, after the circus is over,” said Mr. No-Tail.
But at last along came Alice Wibblewobble, and, being a duck, she didn’t mind a thunder storm. So she didn’t run away, and she heard Grandpa Croaker and Bully and Bawly calling for help at the bottom of the well. She asked what was the trouble, and Bully told her what had happened.
You know it’s hard to walk up hill, and harder still to hop, so Bully and Bawly were soon tired. But do you s’pose that alligator cared? Not a bit of it! Right after them he kept crawling, faster and faster. Bully and Bawly hopped as swiftly as they could, but the alligator kept getting nearer and nearer to them, for he was big and strong, and didn’t mind the hill.
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