The Wishing-Stone Stories

by Thornton W. Burgess

But when the dusk of evening came, he knew that Mr. Snake was no longer to be feared, and he sang in perfect peace and contentment until there came an evening when again that mighty chorus stopped abruptly. A shadow passed over him. Looking up, he saw a great bird with soundless wings, and hanging from its claws one of the sweet singers whose voice was stilled forever. Hooty the Owl had caught his supper.

So Tommy learned that not all folk sing their joy in spring, and that those who do not, such as Mr. Blacksnake and Hooty the Owl, were to be watched out for.

“Too bad, too bad!” whispered old Mr. Toad as they waited for some one to start the chorus again. “That fellow was careless. He didn’t watch out. He forgot. Bad business, forgetting; bad business. Doesn’t do at all. Now I’ve lived a great many years, and I expect to live a great many more. I never forget to watch out. We toads haven’t very many enemies, and if we watch out for the few we have, there isn’t much to worry about. It’s safe to start that chorus again, so here goes.”

He swelled his throat out and began to sing. In five minutes it was as if nothing had happened at the Smiling Pool.

So the glad spring passed, and Tommy saw many things of interest. He saw thousands of tiny eggs hatch into funny little tadpoles, and for a while it was hard to tell at first glance the toad tadpoles from their cousins, the frog tadpoles. But the little toad babies grew fast, and it was almost no time at all before they were not tadpoles at all, but tiny little toads with tails. Day by day the tails grew shorter, until there were no tails at all, each baby a perfect little toad no bigger than a good-sized cricket, but big enough to consider that he had outgrown his nursery, and to be eager to leave the Smiling Pool and go out into the Great World.

“Foolish! Foolish! Much better off here. Got a lot to learn before they can take care of themselves in the Great World,” grumbled old Mr. Toad. Then he chuckled. “Know just how they feel, though,” said he. “Felt the same way myself at their age. Suppose you did, too.”

Of course, Tommy, never having been little like that, for he had wished himself into a full-grown toad, had no such memory. But old Mr. Toad didn’t seem to expect a reply, for he went right on: “Took care of myself, and I guess those little rascals can do the same thing. By the way, this water is getting uncomfortably warm. Besides, I’ve got business to attend to. Can’t sing all the time. Holidays are over. Think I’ll start along back to-night. Are you going my way?”

Now Tommy hadn’t thought anything about the matter. He had noticed that a great many toads were leaving the Smiling Pool, and that he himself didn’t care so much about singing. Then, too, he longed for a good meal, for he had eaten little since coming to the Smiling Pool. So when old Mr. Toad asked if he was going his way, Tommy suddenly decided that he was.

“Good!” replied old Mr. Toad. “We’ll start as soon as it begins to grow dark. It’s safer then. Besides, I never could travel in bright, hot weather. It’s bad for the health.”

So when the Black Shadows began to creep across the Green Meadows, old Mr. Toad and Tommy turned their backs on the Smiling Pool and started up the Lone Little Path. They were not in a hurry now, as they had been when they came down the Lone Little Path, and they hopped along slowly, stopping to hunt bugs and slugs and worms, for they were very, very hungry. Old Mr. Toad fixed his eyes on a fly which had just lighted on the ground two inches in front of him. He sat perfectly still, but there was a lightning-like flash of something pink from his mouth, and the fly was gone. Mr. Toad smacked his lips.