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The storks are very clever at catching the poor froggies; they snatch them up in their long bills, and go flying off, with their great wings spread and their long legs stretched out behind them, carrying off two or three at once. Two little boys were running through the meadows as hard as they could go. "What are you doing there?" said a man who was passing along.
"How much do you bet?" "Fifteen bloody francs!" "All right, I'll take yer on!" "I reckon the Froggies is the worst," said a man who had not spoken before. "I was out 'ere in 1914 an' they didn't 'alf let us down. I was a bloody fool ter join up though I'd like to strangle meself for it. They won't catch me volunteerin' for the next war, not this child, no bloody fear!
The foremost and readiest there was Jack Anerley, with a boarder's pike, and a brace of ship pistols, and his fine ruddy face screwed up as firm as his father's, before a big sale of wheat "Come on, you froggies; we are ready for you," he shouted, as if he had a hundred men in ambush.
I 'ope 'e's got summat in 'is pockets arter we've bin takin' all this trouble." "Yer never find much on these 'ere Froggies, the rotten bastards. Fritz ain't so bad neither. I got a bloody fine watch orf a Fritz last year down on the Somme sold it to an orficer for thirty bleed'n' francs!" "Put yer stick under 'im an' 'eave 'im out!"
I can undershtand Frinch like a native so I shall know everything that you say but begorra the Oirish brogue of me makes it difficult for thim froggies to undershtand me when I shpake to thim." "All right," I answered, perfectly easy in my mind, "you can stand alongside me, and hear everything that passes."
If one asked him "Why are we at war with Germany" this regular soldier would scratch his head, struggle to find a reasonable answer, and mutter something about "them bloody Germans," and "giving a hand to the Froggies." Of international politics, world-problems, Teutonic ambitions, Slav perils, White Papers or Yellow Papers, he knew nothing and cared nothing.
Two of the froggies were still babies, that is, they were yet polywogs, with a half inch of tail still on them; and, of course, were carried about by being strapped on the back of their older brothers. Mr. Frog being now on land, out of his well, noticed that the other animals did not leap, but walked on their legs.
Nobody as yet found out just what this red thing, standing in the water, was; but danger was suspected by old heads, and all little froggies were warned to be careful and keep away. In reality, the red stick was the leg of a stork, sound asleep, for it was taking its usual afternoon nap.
"Come," thought I, "I'll show the froggies that, though they may shut me up, they can't damp my spirits in a hurry," and seizing the instrument, I struck up an Irish jig. It was the most jolly tune I could recollect, and seldom failed to move the heels of all who heard it.
"What do you mean?" said Pen. "Why, make-believe I'm all right. Make these froggies think my wound's only a scratch. Then perhaps they will march me off along with you as a prisoner. I don't want them to you know." "March you off!" said Pen bitterly. "Why, you know you can't stand." "Can't! I've got to. You'll let me hold tight of your arm. I've got to, comrade, and I will.
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