Tale of Ferdinand Frog — The Singing Party, </p>The Missing Supper, </p>and The Mysterious Stranger</p>

THE SINGING-PARTY

Ferdinand Frog lost no time, after Tired Tim left him.

He jumped into the swamp and made straight towards the very middle of it, whence he could already hear the chorus of the numerous Frog family; for the singing-party had begun.

Mr. Frog made all haste, not wishing to miss any more of the fun.

Now swimming, now leaping from one hummock to another--or sometimes to an old stump--he quickly reached the place where the Frog family were enjoying themselves.

"Here he is!"

several of the singers exclaimed as soon as Ferdinand Frog's head popped out of the water, in their midst.

He saw at once that they had been expecting him; and he smiled and bowed--and waited for the company to stop singing and give him a warm greeting with their cold, damp hands.

But except for those first few words, no one paid the slightest attention to the newcomer.

In fact, nobody even took the trouble to nod to Ferdinand Frog--much less to shake hands with him and tell him that he was welcome.

Meanwhile one song followed another with hardly a pause between them.

And Mr. Frog found that he did not know the words of even one.

He was so impatient that at last he climbed upon an old fallen tree-trunk, which stuck out of the greenish-black water, and began to roar his favorite song, while he beat time for the other singers.

The name of that song was "A Frog on a Log in a Bog"; and Ferdinand Frog thought that he couldn't have chosen another so fitting.

But the rest of the singing-party had other ideas.

They turned about and scowled at Mr. Frog as if he had done something most unpleasant.

"Stop!

Stop!"

several of them cried.

And an important-looking fellow near him shouted, "Don't sing that, for pity's sake!"

"Why not?"

Ferdinand Frog faltered.

"What's the matter with my song?

It's my special favorite, which I sing at least fifty times each night, regularly."

"It's old stuff," the other told him with a sneer.

"We haven't sung that for a year, at least."

Ferdinand Frog did not try to argue with him.

But as soon as he saw another chance he began a different ditty.

Then a loud groan arose.

And somebody stopped him again.

And Mr. Frog soon learned that they hadn't sung that one for a year and a half.

Though he tried again and again, he had no better luck.

But he kept smiling bravely.

And finally he asked the company in a loud voice if he "wasn't going to have a chance."

"Certainly!"

a number of the singers assured him.

"Your chance is coming later.

We shan't forget you."

And that made Ferdinand Frog feel better.

He told himself that he could wait patiently for a time--if it wasn't too long.

VIII THE MISSING SUPPER

Ferdinand Frog had begun to feel uneasy again.

He was afraid that the singers had forgotten their promise to him.

But at last they suddenly started a rousing song which made him take heart again.

They roared out the chorus in a joyful way which left no doubt in his mind that his chance was at hand: "Now that the concert is ended We'll sit at the banquet and feast.

Now that the singing's suspended We'll dine till it's gray in the east."

Mr. Frog only hoped that the company did not expect him to sing to them _all_ the time while they were banqueting.

"They needn't think--" he murmured under his breath--"they needn't think I don't like good things to eat as well as they do."

But he let no one see that he was worried.

That was Ferdinand Frog's way: almost always he managed to smile, no matter how things went.

When the last echoes of the song had died away a great hubbub arose.

Everybody crowded around Mr. Frog.

And there were cries of "Now!

Now!"

He thought, of course, that they wanted to hear him sing.

So he started once more to sing his favorite song.

But they stopped him quickly.

"We've finished the songs for to-night," they told him.

"We're ready for the supper now.

.

.

.

Where is it?"

"Supper?"

Mr. Frog faltered, as his jaw dropped.

"What supper?"

"The supper you're going to give us!"

the whole company shouted.

"You know--don't you?

--that we have just made a rule for new members: they're to furnish a banquet."

Ferdinand Frog's eyes seemed to bulge further out of his head than ever.

"I--I never heard of this before!"

he stammered.

"Didn't Tired Tim tell you about our new rule?"

somebody inquired.

"It was his own idea."

"He never said a word to me about it!"

Ferdinand Frog declared with a loud laugh.

"And I can't give you a supper, for I haven't one ready."

"Then we'll postpone it until to-morrow night," the company told him hopefully.

"What does your rule say?"

Ferdinand Frog rolled his eyes as he put the question to them.

"It says that the banquet must take place the first night the new member is present," a fat gentleman replied.

"Then I can't give you any food to-morrow night," Mr. Frog informed them, "because it would be against the rule."

"Then you can't be a member!"

a hundred voices croaked.

"I _am_ one now," Ferdinand Frog replied happily.

"And what's more, I don't see how you can keep me out of your singing-parties."

There was silence for a time.

"We've been sold," some one said at last.

"We've no rule to prevent this fellow from coming here.

And the worst of it is, as everybody knows, his voice is so loud it will spoil all our songs."

Oddly enough, the speaker was the very one who had always objected to inviting Ferdinand Frog to join the singing parties.

His own voice had always been the loudest in the whole company.

And naturally he did not want anybody with a louder one to come and drown his best notes.

But now he couldn't help himself.

And thereafter when the singers met in Cedar Swamp he always turned greener in the face than ever and looked as if he were about to burst, when Ferdinand Frog opened his mouth its widest and let his voice rumble forth into the night.

IX THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER

When Ferdinand Frog first came to the Beaver pond to live no one knew anything about him.

He appeared suddenly--no one knew whence--and at once made himself very much at home.

It was no time at all before he could call every one of the big Beaver family by name.

And he acted exactly as if the pond belonged to him, instead of to the Beavers, whose great-grandfathers had dammed the stream many years before.

But the newcomer was so polite that nobody cared to send him away.

At the same time, people couldn't help wondering who the stranger was and where he had come from and what his plans for the future were.

Whenever two or three Beavers stopped working long enough to enjoy a pleasant chat, they were sure to talk of the mysterious Mr. Frog and tell one another what they thought of him.

Many were the tales told about the nimble fellow.

Some said that he had moved all the way from Farmer Green's duck pond, because Johnnie Green had tried to catch him; while others declared that Ferdinand Frog was a famous singer, who had come to that quiet spot in order to rest his voice, which had become harsh from too much use.

Indeed, there were so many stories about the stranger that it was hard to know which to believe--especially after old Mr. Crow informed Brownie Beaver that in his opinion Ferdinand Frog was a slippery fellow.

"I shouldn't be surprised----" Mr. Crow had said with a wise wag of his head----"I shouldn't be surprised if his real name was Ferdinand Fraud."

Anyhow, there was one thing that almost all the Beaver colony agreed upon.

They were of one opinion as to Mr. Frog's clothes, which they thought must be very fashionable, because they were like no others that had ever been seen before in those parts.

There was one young gentleman, however--the beau of the village--who disputed everybody, saying that he believed that Ferdinand Frog must be wearing old clothes that were many years behind the times.

Now, there was one lazy Beaver known as Tired Tim who had nothing better to do than to go straight to Mr. Frog and repeat what he heard.

To Tired Tim's surprise--for he had expected Mr. Frog to lose his temper--to his surprise that gentleman appeared much amused by the bit of gossip.

He shook with silent laughter for a time, quite as if he were saving his voice to use that evening.

And then he said: "So your young friend thinks I'm not in style, eh?

.

.

.

Well, I'll tell you something: he's right, in a way.

And in another way he isn't. The reason why I'm not in style is because I always aim to keep five years ahead of everybody else.

"Five years from now and your neighbors will all be wearing clothes like mine."

"Can't we ever catch up with you?"

Tired Tim asked him.

"There's only one way you can do that," was Mr. Frog's mysterious answer.

And he would say no more.

X CATCHING UP WITH MR.

FROG