“Husband’s dead,” said the bear.
“That’s no reason why his overcoat should be dead, stupid!” replied the raccoon. “It isn’t likely that he was buried in his overcoat, and it isn’t likely that she has cut it up for a riding-habit. Borrow the overcoat,” he continued, turning to the squirrel again, “and put it on. Old Bullfrog was a very big fellow, and I think you can get it on. Then you can sit on a stone and whistle like a frog.”
“I can’t sit down in a frog’s overcoat!” objected the squirrel. “I know I can’t. It’s not the right shape, and I don’t sit down in that way. And I can’t whistle like a frog either.”
“Dear me!” said the raccoon peevishly. “What can you do? I am sure I could sit down in any coat I could wear at all. Well, then,” he added after a pause, “you can stand on a stone, and look like a frog. I suppose you can do that?”
“I suppose so,” said Cracker, dubiously.
“And Toto,” continued the raccoon, “can hide himself in the reeds on one side of you, and I on the other. Toto whistles beautifully, and he can imitate Miss Bullfrog’s voice to perfection. The muskrat will be sure to come up when he hears it, and the moment he pops his head out of the water, you can drop some tar on his nose, and then—”
“Then what?” asked the squirrel anxiously.
“I will attend to the rest of it,” said Coon, with a wink. “See that I have cards to the Mud Turtle’s wedding, will you? Here comes Toto,” he added, “with tar enough to catch fifty muskrats. Off with you, Cracker, and ask the Widow Frog for the overcoat.”
The squirrel disappeared among the bushes, and at the same time Toto came running up with the tar-bucket.
“Well,” he said breathlessly, “is it all arranged? Oh! I ran all the way, and I am so tired!” and he dropped down on a mossy seat, and fanned himself with his cap.