Poor Bob stared at the water-hole for a good half-hour, without seeing what his gaze rested on. He had expected some reasonable work, [[300]]but here he was set to do an impossibility. The hole was a very large one; almost as wide as the mouth of a river. How then was he to bale it out with a thimble? It appeared very absurd; nevertheless, our hero was determined to try. He began his work, but he found it labour in vain. When noonday came he stopped, and sat down to rest. “It’s quite hopeless for me to try and empty out all this water to-day. Why, it would take me a thousand years to do it at this rate,” he cried, raising his voice. “Indeed, I don’t see the use of making a fuss about it; it will be the same whether I work or not. I wonder where the witch has hid that lady that came to my hut?” And with this new turn to his thoughts Bob sat by the water-hole and made circles in the water with the pebbles at his feet.
As he sat there and shied the stones into the water-hole, he heard some one cry out as if in sudden pain! Bob stared around and about him, but he could see no one.
“Oh dear! you have struck me on the head!” exclaimed a voice.
The hunter rose quickly to his feet “Who and what are you?” he cried.
“Can’t you see who I am? Look here, on the water,” repeated the voice. [[301]]
Our hero turned his gaze in the direction indicated, and beheld a large frog swimming towards him.
“Pray who are you, sir?” inquired Bob, filled with amazement.
“I’ll tell you that presently,” responded the frog, as he crawled up the embankment. He was a fine, speckled fellow with a big head, long arms and legs, and a considerable paunch, which showed that he was fond of his food.
“I was just taking my usual mid-day bath when my ears caught your reproaches with respect to emptying this lake,” said the frog, at the same time bowing very politely to Bob. “May I ask if you seriously intend to attempt the task?”
The young hunter briefly explained the whole circumstances of the case.