But Uncle Bullfrog was nowhere to be seen.

There stood the old log, but there was nobody on it but a black snail.
It seemed strange not to see the old gentleman frog sitting there, his
eyes winking and blinking and his white waist-coat shining in the sun,
and it made the little rabbit feel lonely.

"Where is Uncle Bullfrog?" he asked a big bluebottle fly, who was
buzzing away at a great rate. But he didn't know, and neither did a
big darning needle that was skimming over the quiet water.

"I wonder if that dreadful Miller's Boy has taken Uncle Bullfrog
away," thought Billy Bunny, and just then Mrs. Oriole flew down from
her nest that swung in the weeping willow tree and said:

"Are you looking for Uncle Bullfrog, little rabbit?"

"Yes, ma'am. Do you know where he is?"

"He's down by the mill dam," answered the pretty little bird, and then
she flew back to her nest that looked like an old white cotton
stocking at Christmas time because it was all bulgy and full, only, of
course, hers had little birds inside and a Christmas stocking has all
sorts of toys, with an orange in the toe and a Jack-in-the-Box
sticking out of the top.

So off hopped the little rabbit, and pretty soon he saw the old
gentleman bullfrog catching flies, and undoing his waistcoat one
button every time a fly disappeared down his throat.