og to the rabbit. "We must get away from here as
quickly as we can."

"Why?" asked Sammie Littletail.

"Because," said Bully, "that bird will eat us. My father warned me never
to stay near that bird. Let us go away at once."

"What sort of a bird is it?" asked Sammie, who now had no wish to jump.
"I'm sure it can't be very harmful. The only birds that I have to look
out for are owls, eagles and hawks, and it isn't any of them."

"No, I'm not one of them," spoke the bird with the long legs, snapping
its bill as if sharpening it. "I'm a blue heron, that's what I am,
though some folks think I'm a stork or a crane."

"Well," spoke Sammie, "you're not dangerous, are you?"

"Not for you," went on the blue heron, and he snapped his beak again,
just like two knives being sharpened. "I came for that fellow," and the
bird lowered the leg it had hidden under its feathers and pointed at the
frog. "I came for you," the heron went on. "You're wanted at once.
What's your name?"

Sammie Littletail thought the bird might have asked the frog's name
first before saying that Bully was wanted, but the bird did not seem to
consider this.

"What's your name?" the long-legged bird asked again.

"Bully," answered the frog, in a trembling, croaking voice.

"Humph!" exclaimed the heron. "That's a good name. Mine is Billy. Bully
and Billy go well together. I'm called Billy because I have such a long
bill, you see," the heron explained to Sammie Littletail. "But enough of
this. I've come for you, Bully. I'm hungry. I'm going to eat you. That's
why you're wanted at once and immediate."

"I--I think there's some mistake," faltered Bully.

"No mistake at all," snapped the heron. "It's in all the books. Cranes,
storks and herons always eat frogs, mice and-so-forth. I never ate any
and-so-forth, but I imagine it must be very nice. At any rate, I'm going
to eat you!" and he snapped his bill like three knives being sharpened.

"Oh, are you?" cried Bully, the frog, and he suddenly gave a great jump,
greater even than that which the Jumping Frog that Mark Twain wrote
about gave, and into the pond he plunged, and went right to the bottom.
Now, what do you think about that? Yes, sir, he went right to the
bottom, where the blue heron couldn't get him, and then he called up, in
a voice which sounded very hoarse because it came from so far under
water:

"Ha! Who got left?"

"I suppose he means me," spoke the heron to Sammie, and the bird, very