From adventures of grandfather frog by thornton w burgess Age Rating 4 to 6.
Black Pussy was having a good time. Grandfather Frog wasn't. It was
great fun for Black Pussy to slip a paw under Grandfather Frog and toss
him up in the air. It was still more fun to pretend to go away, but to
hide instead, and the instant Grandfather Frog started off, to pounce
upon him and cuff him and roll him about. But there wasn't any fun in it
for Grandfather Frog. In the first place, he didn't know whether or not
Black Pussy liked Frogs to eat, and he was terribly frightened. In the
second place, Black Pussy didn't always cover up her claws, and they
pricked right through Grandfather Frog's white and yellow waistcoat and
hurt, for he is very tender there.
At last Black Pussy grew tired of playing, so catching up Grandfather
Frog in her mouth, she started along the little path from the spring to
the Long Lane. Grandfather Frog didn't even kick, which was just as
well, because if he had, Black Pussy would have held him tighter, and
that would have been very uncomfortable indeed.
"It's all over, and this is the end," moaned Grandfather Frog. "I'm
going to be eaten now. Oh, why, why did I ever leave the Smiling Pool?"
Just as Black Pussy slipped into the Long Lane, Grandfather Frog heard a
familiar sound. It was a whistle, a merry whistle. It was the whistle of
Farmer Brown's boy. It was coming nearer and nearer. A little bit of
hope began to stir in the heart of Grandfather Frog.
He didn't know just why, but it did. Always he had been in the greatest
fear of Farmer Brown's boy, but now--well, if Farmer Brown's boy should
take him, he might get away from him as he did before, but he was very
sure that he never, never could get away from Black Pussy.
The whistle drew nearer. Black Pussy stopped. Then she began to make a
queer whirring sound deep down in her throat.
"Hello, Black Pussy! Have you been hunting? Come here and show me what
you've got," cried a voice.
Black Pussy arched up her back and began to rub against the legs of
Farmer Brown's boy, and all the time the whir, ring sound in her throat
grew louder and louder. Farmer Brown's boy stooped down to see what she
had in her mouth.
"Why," he exclaimed, "I do believe this is the very same old frog that
got away from me! You don't want him, Puss. I'll just put him in my
pocket and take him up to the house by and by."
With that he took Grandfather Frog from Black Pussy and dropped him in
his pocket. He patted Black Pussy, called her a smart cat, and then
started on his way, whistling merrily. It was dark and rather close in
that pocket, but Grandfather Frog didn't mind this. It was a lot better
than feeling sharp teeth and claws all the time. He wondered how soon
they would reach the house and what would happen to him then. After what
seemed like a long, long time, he felt himself swung through the air,
and then he landed on the ground with a thump that made him grunt.
Farmer Brown's boy had taken off his coat and thrown it down.
The whistling stopped. Everything was quiet. Grandfather Frog waited
and listened, but not a sound could he hear. Then he saw a little ray of
light creeping into his prison. He squirmed and pushed, and all of a
sudden he was out of the pocket. The bright light made him blink. As
soon as he could see, he looked to see where he was. Then he rubbed his
eyes with both hands and looked again. He wasn't at Farmer Brown's house
at all. Where do you think he was? Why, right on the bank of the Smiling
Pool, and a little way off was Farmer Brown's boy fishing!
"Chugarum!" cried Grandfather Frog, and it was the loudest, gladdest
chugarum that the Smiling Pool ever had heard. "Chugarum!" he cried
again, and with a great leap he dived with a splash into the dear old
Smiling Pool, which smiled more than ever.
And never again has Grandfather Frog tried to see the Great World. He
is quite content to leave it to those who like to dwell there. And since
his own wonderful adventures, he has been ready to believe anything he
is told about what happens there. Nothing can surprise him, not even the
astonishing things that happened to Chatterer the Red Squirrel, about
which it takes a whole book to tell.
