Laughing at his merry mood, Teddy and Amos did turn about, the latter running back, for fear lest his newly-started fire might have suffered during his short absence.
Dolph walked on into the cranberry marsh. He found that the ground was fairly covered with the plants, and that an abundant crop of berries seemed assured for the coming fall. Already in many instances they were taking on a pinkish tinge, although they would hardly be fit for picking before the first frost.
But a mere glance around was enough for Dolph just then. As he had said, a cranberry bog was not a new sight to him, though this chanced to be the first wild uncultivated one he had ever gazed upon.
Just now he had other fish to fry. Those big deep-toned bull-frogs had opened up again, and were loudly accusing each other of having had “more rum” than was good for them.
Dolph knew just how to go about it, and was presently having “more fun than a circus,” as he called it. But evidently the frogs did not enjoy the picnic so much as the fisherman; but then, whoever considers what the feelings of the submerged half is, when in quest of food?
Discovering just where a monster was squatted on the bank, uttering sounds like the lowing of a bull, Dolph would creep up behind him, until he could glimpse his intended quarry. Then he would elevate his stiff rod, and allow that flaming bunch of red feathers to descend in front of the creature’s nose. There would be a start, the bull-frog could be seen to half crouch down, after the manner of a sly cat, and then he would jump up at the tempting lure, which, of course, the poor silly thing believed to be the finest moth it had ever seen. After that it was ludicrous in one way to see how badly he wanted to let go, and couldn’t. But Dolph wasted no more time, and quickly put an end to the acrobatic stunts of the hooked frog.
Then he would go on to the next serenader, whose song might prove just as much a symbol of his approaching end as that which the swan is said to give vent to, when death draws near.
So it went on, and the load Dolph was carrying kept on getting heavier; while his visions of a treat in the way of frogs’ legs for supper kept advancing with each new capture.