Since he was a most cheerful person, Mr. Frog did not mind that. Indeed,
he was more than pleased, because the oftener he took a swim the fewer
stitches he lost. So he sang the merriest songs he knew.

The light was fast fading when a hollow laugh startled Mr. Frog. It seemed
to come from the willow tree right over his head. And he knew without
looking up that it was Solomon Owl’s deep voice.

Mr. Frog tried to leap into the brook. But when he uncrossed his legs, in
his haste he tangled them up in his sewing. And all he could do was to
turn a somersault backward among some bulrushes, hoping that Solomon Owl
had not seen him.

It is no secret that Mr. Frog was terribly afraid of Solomon Owl. Some of
Mr. Frog’s friends had mysteriously disappeared. And they had last been
seen in Solomon’s company.

As it happened, Mr. Frog had hoped in vain. For Solomon Owl only laughed
more loudly than before. And then he said:

“What are you afraid of, Mr. Frog?”

The tailor knew at once that he was caught. So he hopped nimbly to his
feet and answered that there was nothing to be afraid of, so far as he
could see.

It was a true statement, too; because Mr. Frog had not yet discovered
Solomon Owl’s exact whereabouts.