and he was as earnest as though both were real.

"I give ye a little rest now, Buck," he said, shaking his head
earnestly. "Hit's a purty hard pull hyeh, but I know, by Gum, you
can make hit--if you hain't too durn lazy. Now, git up, Buck!" he
yelled suddenly, flaying the sand with his switch. "Git up--Whoa--
Haw--Gee, Gee!" The frog hopped several times.

"Whoa, now!" said the little fellow, panting in sympathy. "I
knowed you could do it." Then he looked up. For an instant he
seemed terrified but he did not run. Instead he stealthily shifted
the pine dagger over to his right hand and the string to his left.

"Here, boy," said the fisherman with affected sternness: "What are
you doing with that dagger?"

The boy's breast heaved and his dirty fingers clenched tight
around the whittled stick.

"Don't you talk to me that-a-way," he said with an ominous shake
of his head. "I'll gut ye!"

The fisherman threw back his head, and his peal of laughter did
what his sternness failed to do. The little fellow wheeled
suddenly, and his feet spurned the sand around the bushes for
home--the astonished frog dragged bumping after him. "Well!" said
the fisherman.