“Birds without feathers!” they repeated, incredulously.
“Yes, they live in the water most of the time,” laughed Ben, enjoying the joke on the boys.
The night fairly rang with the shrill, bird-like peeps which seemed to come from the borders of the lake. Ed and George listened, unable to guess what made the piping sounds.
“That noise is made by little frogs—‘peepers,’ we call them,” said Ben. “You’ll hear them in the daytime, too, for the next few weeks; and if you sneak up carefully you can see them singing. They puff their throats out into a round, white ball.”
“Do you really mean that?” asked Ed, seriously.
“Give you my word,” replied Ben.
“Well, that is something worth learning,” declared George. “Ed, we must take a picture of one singing.”
“Wouldn’t it make a dandy?” cried Ed.
Ben had meantime arranged the pine knots to his satisfaction. Dashing some kerosene over them, he applied a match. Instantly they flared up and began blazing fiercely.
“All aboard!” he cried. “And mind you, don’t fall overboard.”