“Don’t catch him,” cried Ned, referring to the frog. “He’s been dead once, and now he’s earned his life.”
So Hal allowed the resurrected frog to go his way, and it is to be hoped that the garter snakes were as obliging.
By the time the boys had secured some twenty-five or thirty of the tiny green frogs, each about half an inch in length, twilight had deepened into dusk, and trees and bushes were merged in shadows.
With a few stumbles over vines and roots they retraced their steps to the arbor. Then arose the question, where to keep the frogs, considering that the pail would be needed for the breakfast coffee!
The voices of men talking, and the snappy sound of oars shifting between thole pins drifted from the mouth of the bayou.
“Sam and Joe are just coming back. Let’s go down and report, and see if they haven’t something we can borrow, to put the frogs in,” proposed Ned.
So the three of them trudged along the bank, where a faint path had been worn. It was presumed that Bob, of course, knew what was up. But after they had gone far enough to indicate their goal, he suddenly awakened to the fact that the route was leading to the brindled dog, and refused to proceed farther. He sat on his tail, and pleaded with his two comrades not to expose themselves to insults from that vulgar fellow. As they refused to yield to him, he watched them until they were out of sight, and followed them with his mournful howls. Then, having done his duty, he returned to the grape arbor camp, and curled to sleep on Ned’s coat.
Soon, even had they been blind to the flickering light, and deaf to the muffled voices, by their noses alone the boys would have known that they were near the fishermen’s cabin. Sam and Joe were busy, with aid of a lantern, at their landing. Evidently they had just disembarked.
“Hullo, there!” hailed the boys.