“Why, what is the matter?” asked Bully, splashing some water on Bawly’s
nose.

“Yes. All we did was to jump down here,” added Bawly. “What’s wrong?”

“Why that leaves no one above on the ground to help me get up,” said the
old gentleman frog. “I was depending on you to haul me up by the rope,
and here you jump down, and pull the rope with you. It’s as bad as when
Uncle Wiggily was on the roof, only he was up and couldn’t get down, and
we’re down and can’t get up.”

“Oh, I think I can jump to the top of the well and take the rope with
me. If I can’t take this rope I’ll get another and pull you both up,”
said Bully. So he hopped and he hopped, but he couldn’t hop to the top
of the well. Every time he tried it, he fell back into the water,
ker-slash!

“Let me try,” said his brother. But it was just the same with Bawly.
Back he sploshed-splashed into the well-water, getting all wet.

“Now we’ll never get out of here,” said Grandpa Croaker sadly. “I wish
you boys would think a little more, and not do things so quickly.”

“We will—next time,” promised Bawly as he gave another big jump, but he
came nowhere near the top of the well.

Then it began to look as if they would have to stay down there forever,
for no one came to pull them out.

“Let’s call for help,” suggested Bully. So he and Bawly called as loud