n he spent most of a
whole afternoon smiling at his reflection in the surface of the Beaver
pond, where he was living at the time.

So it is easy to see that Ferdinand Frog was a vain and silly fellow. He
was even foolish enough to repeat Aunt Polly's remark to everybody he
chanced to meet that night, and the following day as well.

There was no one who could help grinning at Ferdinand Frog's news--he
looked so comical. And old Mr. Crow, who was noted for his rudeness,
even burst out with a hoarse _haw-haw_.

"You're pretty as a picture, eh?" he chuckled. "I suppose Aunt Polly
means that you're as pretty as one of the pictures that the circus men
have pasted on Farmer Green's barn. . . . I believe----" he added, as
he stared at Ferdinand Frog----"I believe I know which one Aunt Polly
means."

"Is that so?" cried Mr. Frog, swelling himself up--through pride--until
it seemed that he must burst. "Oh, which picture is it?"

"It's the one in the upper left-hand corner," old Mr. Crow informed him
solemnly. "And if you haven't yet seen it, you should take a good look
at it soon."

"I will!" Ferdinand Frog declared. "I'll visit Farmer Green's place this
very night!"

And he opened his mouth and smiled so widely that old Mr. Crow couldn't
help shuddering--though he knew well enough that Ferdinand Frog could
never swallow anyone as big as he was.

II

THE DANGERS OF TRAVEL

It was a long way to Farmer Green's from the Beaver pond where Ferdinand
Frog made his home. But he felt that he simply _must_ see that picture
which Mr. Crow said looked like him. So he started out just before
sunset.

One thing, at least, about his journey pleased him: he could make the
trip by water--and he certainly did hate travelling on land.

Luckily the stream that trickled its way below the Beaver dam led
straight to Swift River. And everybody who knew anything was aware that
Swift River ran right under the bridge not far from the farmhouse.

So Mr. Frog leaped spryly into the brook and struck out downstream.

He was a famous swimmer, having been used to the water from the time he
was a tadpole. And now he swam so fast, with the help of the current,
that he reached the river by the time the moon was up.

As he looked up at the sky Ferdinand Frog was both glad and sorry that
there was a moon that night. The moon would be a good thing, provided he
reached the end of his journey, for it would give him a fine clear view
of the