Hoppy Toad, not knowing he was followed, hopped along hurriedly. Coming to a neck of the woods where there were paths leading in all directions he became confused.
“I don’t remember coming by these paths,” he mused. “I don’t know which one to take. I wish I had obeyed mamma and played around home.”
Night was fast nearing; in fact the sun was slowly sinking below the tall trees.
The bull-frog, noticing Hoppy Toad hesitate, leaped forward and soon reached the spot where Hoppy Toad was. Hoppy Toad, on seeing him, shook all over with fright.
“Don’t be scared,” said the bull-frog. “I won’t hurt you. What is your name?”
“Hoppy Toad,” was the timid reply.
“Billy Bull-Frog is my name, Hoppy Toad. You seem to be lost. Am I right?”
“Yes! I live close to a pond. My home is a hole in the ground, at the roots of a tree.”
“How did you happen to land way over here?”