“Hold fast,” repeated the Frog, and then, raising his head out of the pond, he clambered up the bank and got upon the grass.
“Now, then, here we are,” exclaimed the Frog. “What do you think of dry land?”
But no one answered.
“Hallow! Gone? That’s just what I was afraid of. He has floated off my back, stupid fellow. But perhaps he has made his way to the water’s edge here after all, and then I can help him out. I’ll wait about and see.”
And away went Froggy with a leap along the grass by the edge of the pond glancing every now and then among the bulrushes to see if he could spy his little friend, the dragon fly grub.
But what had become of the little grub? He had really clung to the Frog’s back with all his might; but the moment the mask of his face began to issue from the water, a shock seemed to strike his frame and he reeled from his resting place back into the pond panting and struggling for life.
“Terrible,” he cried as soon as he came to himself. “The Frog has deceived me. He cannot go there, at any rate.” And with these words, the little Grub moved away to his old companions to talk over with them what he had done and where he had been.
“It was terrible, terrible. But the sun is beginning to set and I must take a turn around the pond in search of food.” And away went the little dragon fly grub for a ramble among the water plants.
On his return who should he see sitting calmly on a stone at the bottom of the pond but his friend the yellow Frog.