Part 8 (1/2)

One day she paused in her labors, feeling that she had earned a few minutes' rest. And she dropped out of the bushes and strayed close to the water's edge.

A light breeze ruffled the surface of the duck pond into tiny waves.

”What a terrible, rough sea there is to-day!” Mrs. Ladybug murmured as she gazed upon the troubled water. ”Perhaps, if I cling to a tall gra.s.s stalk, I can get a better view of it.”

She soon found a stalk that grew high above all the rest. Crawling to the very top of it Mrs. Ladybug was able to look far out over the face of the pond.

”Goodness!” she said to herself. ”I'm glad I'm not out there in a s.h.i.+p.”

A few moments later she happened to glance down near the sh.o.r.e. And there, to her horror, she beheld a frog.

He was not a big frog. On the contrary, he was the tiniest frog that Mrs. Ladybug had ever seen. He was sitting on a lily pad, singing with a small, shrill voice, which sounded exactly as if you were tapping two marbles together.

Now, Mrs. Ladybug had all her life stood in great fear of frogs. She didn't dare move, as she gazed at this one with eyes that popped almost out of her head.

He was a brownish person, with a yellow throat which he puffed out like a bag as he sang. And his skin was so rough that Mrs. Ladybug shuddered as she looked at it. Her own was very, very smooth.

All at once the frog looked up and spied Mrs. Ladybug staring at him.

She would have shrieked--had she been able to.

Then Mrs. Ladybug did the thing that she always did whenever she had a great fright. She played dead. She pulled her feet under her body, out of sight, and stuck, motionless, to the gra.s.s stalk.

Nothing happened. And she was about to take another sly look at the frog when something moved the stalk of gra.s.s. It was only the wind. But Mrs. Ladybug didn't know that. She was sure that the frog had touched it.

Then Mrs. Ladybug played her next trick. She let go of the stalk and dropped to the ground, where she lay upon her side as if she would never move again.

Once more she kept quite still. And since n.o.body disturbed her, after a time she opened her eyes.

She found herself looking straight into those of the tiny frog, who still sat upon his lily pad in the duck pond.

Mrs. Ladybug shut her eyes instantly. She only hoped that the frog hadn't noticed her action.

XVII

A BRAVE GENTLEMAN

MRS. LADYBUG didn't know that the frog she saw was a very timid fellow.

His name was Mr. Cricket Frog. He liked to sit on a lily pad and sing.

And his singing sounded a good deal like the music that Chirpy Cricket made. In fact, that was the reason for his odd name.

Mr. Cricket Frog had a trick not unlike the one that Mrs. Ladybug herself played upon him. Whenever a fish, or any other enemy, came near him, if he hadn't time to hide in the mud at the bottom of the pond Mr.

Cricket Frog played dead. He would float in the water as if lifeless, until his enemy had gone off about his business.

He was so timid--this Mr. Cricket Frog--that when he saw a stranger he would sometimes play dead. And that was exactly what happened when he caught sight of Mrs. Ladybug as she clung to the gra.s.s stalk near the edge of the duck pond and stared at him.