the same tune which all the frog-people have sung from
the earliest days.

Now Herve was displeased by their disagreeable noise. He could not sing
nor play, nor think of the words which belonged with his music: only the
"Ker-_chog_! Ker-r-kity-chog! Ker-_chog_!" sounded in his ears. And it
grew louder and louder every moment as one by one all the frogs joined
in the chorus.

Herve waited for them to stop. But when he found that they did not mean
to do this, but were really trying to drown his voice, he was very
angry. He strode to the window holding his harp in his hand. And leaning
far out he struck another of his wonderful chords of music, such as had
charmed the mocking children once before, as you remember.

"Sing your last song, O Frogs," he said. "Sing your last Ker-_chog_, for
henceforth you will be silent. I command you from this night never to
open your mouths again. All save one, the littlest of you all. And he
shall sing forever, without cease, to remind you of your rudeness to
me." And no sooner had he ceased speaking when there came a great
silence outside the window, broken only by one wee piping tadpole voice.
"Ker-_chog_! Ker-r-kity-chog! Ker-_chog_!" he chanted his sad little
solo. And all alone he had to sing and sing this same tune forever. I
dare say one can hear him yet in the greeny pond outside that old French
castle.

IV.

NOW after many years of wandering, of singing, of making beautiful
songs, of teaching and wandering again, Herve's dear mother Rivanone
died. But he still had some one to love and look for him and the wolf
when he came home from his travels. For Rivanone had adopted a dear
little girl named Christine, beautiful as sunshine and sweet as a
flower. She called Herve "Uncle" and loved him dearly, and the wolf was
a great friend of hers.

So at last he thought to settle down and make music about him in his own
home, letting people come there to hear it, instead of carrying it to
them by road and river. For he was growing an old man, and it was not so
easy to travel in his blindness as it used to be. Besides, the black
wolf was also growing gray, and needed rest after these long years of
faithful work.

Herve resolved to build a church, and to live there with Christine near
him in a little house of her own. He had grown to be an important
personage in the world, and had many friends, pupils, and followers who
wanted to live near him. So forth they set to find a place for th