“Is this little tadpole your son? I fished for him just for the sport of it and I did intend to take him home with me.”
“Chug-e-rum! chug-e-rum!” roared Father Frog, “drop my son at once.”
The way Father Frog demanded Pinkie Whiskers to drop the tadpole made him very determined not to do so. It was very naughty of Pinkie Whiskers, and afterwards he was most sorry for having been so rude, unkind and stubborn, but then it was too late.
Pinkie Whiskers said to Father Frog, “I will not drop your son. He is my little tadpole now and I am going to take him home and fry him for my breakfast.”
“Chug-e-rum! chug-e-rum!” growled Father Frog. “You shall do nothing of the kind. Don’t you know that frogs and tadpoles have feelings and hearts as well as yourself?”
“Poof! poof!” scoffed Pinkie Whiskers. “I don’t care. I am going to take my tadpole home with me anyway.”
Father Frog did not say a word. He just jumped against Pinkie Whiskers with such force that the rod flew out of his hand and the little tadpole went flop back into his watery home.
Pinkie Whiskers fell flat upon the stone and when he scrambled to his feet, there beside him stood Father Frog. In his hand he held a long green reed, which he had pulled out of the creek.
Pinkie Whiskers thought that Father Frog intended to whip him with the reed and he begged, “Please do not whip me. I will never touch your little tadpoles again.”
“Indeed you will not touch them again, for you will not be here to fish for them.”