Dr. Whiskers twisted and pulled upon the hook. At last, out flew the ugly thing.
"How did it happen?" he asked, wrapping the instrument carefully.
"I've been hoarse for years," croaked Grandpa Bull Frog as he wiped away the tears. "Squire Cricket told me that red flannel cured his throat, so when I saw some red flannel dangling from a line right over this log, I grabbed it. I got it easily, and this cruel hook beside. The Giant boy has gone away. I thank you kindly, Dr. Whiskers. Ahem! You might tell Mr. Squeaky that I say his band played very fine music last evening."
"Better leave fish-hooks alone, hereafter, Grandpa Bull Frog," chuckled Dr. Whiskers. "When you need red flannel, hop over to Wild Rose Cottage. Granny fetched a good supply from Mrs. Giant's trunk."
"Grand-daddy!" called Wiggle from the grove. "I have the hornet's nest. Isn't it big? We had a fight with the hornets. I ran away, but Buster and Wink are chuck full of stingers. They want you to come quick. Buster is howling real loud."
Dr. Grand-daddy trotted along the pine-needle path.
"Oh, Grand-daddy, those hornets were full of hot prickers!" sobbed Buster.
"Wait a bit, kiddies," he called. "I'll mix some mud plasters that will stop the pain. So the hornets won out, did they?"
"No, sir, they didn't!" cried Wink, doubling his little fists. "We beat 'em, Grand-daddy. We got what we went after. Wiggle rolled their nest home."