THE WAY TO FISH FOR BULL FROGS
Here was a pretty how-dye-do; Dolph going innocently back to the cranberry bog to pick up a dinner of frogs’ legs, and being chased by a savage old bear!
Somebody did get a move on, as Dolph had pleaded for them to do; everybody did, in fact; for Teddy dropped whatever he was doing, snatched up a gun, and put out as fast as he could run; while Amos, forgetting all about the chances of his fire going out just when it needed the most attention, followed close in the footsteps of his camp mate, also armed with a deadly weapon.
There was not the slightest difficulty in locating the scene of operations. The continued whoops of Dolph did that all right for them.
All at once the yells ceased, as if by magic, and a fear gripped the would-be rescuers that they were, alas, too late to be of help. Then they heard what sounded like a hysterical laugh, followed by the exclamation:
“Well, I’ll be hanged, if that ain’t a good one on me!”
That was Dolph’s well known voice; there could not be the slightest doubt about it; and to judge from the fact of his actually uttering a sort of laugh, it seemed as though Bruin could not have eaten him up, as yet. Both gallant rescuers felt vastly encouraged, and emboldened to push right on.
Breaking through a fringe of bushes they were just in time to catch a last glimpse of a badly rattled black bear, putting for all he was worth into the adjacent scrubbery, and never looking back once to ascertain whether or not he was being pursued by the object that had so thoroughly frightened him.
Dolph was standing there, panting heavily, and yet shaking all over at the same time, either with nervousness, or an inclination to laugh at his late scare, possibly both.