His eyeballs bulged out of his head, and he has looked ever since much in the same scared way.
He did not lose his courage, however. He swallowed the coal and sprang into the water.
Sad to tell, the beldam still held in her hand his special pride and care, his tail.
Henceforth only the tadpoles could wear tails.
The frog sought a log and sat down upon it to think.
“I did my duty, even if I lost my beauty,” he thought; “that is enough for a frog. This spark must be saved.”
After much choking he spat the swallowed spark well into the bark.
The gift came, in this way, to all men; for, in even the wettest weather, if you rub two sticks together, fire is sure to come.
Because we know how the frog hurt his throat that day, we like to listen to his hoarse voice when we hear him singing to his children in the spring.