class="c8">Though first I'll sing a song.
My voice I must not waste to-day,
So I'll not keep you long.
I simply want to let you know
I'm much obliged, before I go."

"Don't mention it!" said Tired Tim.

"Don't interrupt me, please!" said Ferdinand Frog. "I haven't finished thanking you yet. That's only the first verse."

"How many more are there?" Tired Tim inquired with a yawn.

"Ninety-nine!" Mr. Frog answered. And he was somewhat surprised—and puzzled—when Tired Tim left him suddenly and plunged into the underbrush.

VII

THE SINGING-PARTY

Ferdinand Frog lost no time, after Tired Tim left him. He jumped into the swamp and made straight towards the very middle of it, whence he could already hear the chorus of the numerous Frog family; for the singing-party had begun.

Mr. Frog made all haste, not wishing to miss any more of the fun. Now swimming, now leaping from one hummock to another—or sometimes to an old stump—he quickly reached the place where the Frog family were enjoying themselves.

"Here he is!" several of the singers exclaimed as soon as Ferdinand Frog's head popped out of the water, in their midst.

He saw at once that they had been expecting him; and he smiled and bowed—and waited for the company to stop singing and give him a warm greeting with their cold, damp hands. But except for those first few words, no one paid the slightest attention to the newcomer.

In fact, nobody even took the trouble to nod to Ferdinand Frog—much less to shake hands with him and tell him that he was welcome.

Meanwhile one song followed another with hardly a pause between them. And Mr. Frog found that he did not know the words of even one.

He was so impatient that at last he climbed upon an old fallen tree-trunk, which stuck out of the greenish-black water, and began to roar his favorite song, while he beat time for the other singers. The name of that song was "A Frog on a Log in a Bog"; and Ferdinand Frog thought that he couldn't have chosen another so fitting.

But the rest of the singing-party had other ideas. They turned about and scowled at Mr. Frog as if he had done something most unpleasant.

"Stop! Stop!" several of them cried. And an important-looking fellow near him shouted, "Don't sing that, for pity's sake!"

"Why not?" Ferdinand Frog faltered. "What's the matter with my song? It's my special favorite, which I sing at least fifty times each night, regularly."

"It's old stuff," the other told him with a sneer. "We haven't sung that for a year, at least."

Ferdinand Frog did not try to argue with him. But as soon as he saw another chance he began a different ditty.

Then a loud groan arose. And somebody stopped him again. And Mr. Frog soon learned that they hadn't sung that one for a year and a half.

Though he tried again and again, he had no better luck. But he kept smiling bravely. And finally he asked the company in a loud voice if he "wasn't going to have a chance."

"Certainly!" a number of the singers assured him. "Your chance is coming later. We shan't forget you."

And that made Ferdinand Frog feel better. He told himself that he could wait patiently for a time—if it wasn't too long.

VIII

THE MISSING SUPPER

Ferdinand Frog had begun to feel uneasy again. He was afraid that the singers had forgotten their promise to him. But at last they suddenly started a rousing song which made him take heart again.

They roared out the chorus in a joyful way which left no doubt in his mind that his chance was at hand:

Mr. Frog only hoped that the company did not expect him to sing to them all the time while they were banqueting.

"They needn't think—" he murmured under his breath—"they needn't think I don't like good things to eat as well as they do." But he let no one see that he was worried. That was Ferdinand Frog's way: almost always he managed to smile, no matter how things went.

When the last echoes of the song had died away a great hubbub arose. Everybody crowded around Mr. Frog. And there were cries of "Now! Now!"

He thought, of course, that they wanted to hear him sing. So he started once more to sing his favorite song. But they stopped him quickly.

"We've finished the songs for to-night," they told him. "We're ready for the supper now. . . . Where is it?"

"Supper?" Mr. Frog faltered, as his jaw dropped. "What supper?"

"The supper you're going to give us!" the whole company shouted. "You know—don't you?—that we have just made a rule for new members: they're to furnish a banquet."

Ferdinand Frog's eyes seemed to bulge further out of his head than ever.

"I—I never heard of this before!" he stammered.

"Didn't Tired Tim tell you about our new rule?" somebody inquired. "It was his own idea."

"He never said a word to me about it!" Ferdinand Frog declared with a loud laugh. "And I can't give you a supper, for I haven't one ready."

"Then we'll postpone it until to-morrow night," the company told him hopefully.

"What does your rule say?" Ferdinand Frog rolled his eyes as he put the question to them.

"It says that the banquet must take place the first night the new member is present," a fat gentleman replied.

"Then I can't give you any food to-morrow night," Mr. Frog informed them, "because it would be against the rule."

"Then you can't be a member!" a hundred voices croaked.

"I am one now," Ferdinand Frog replied happily. "And what's more, I don't see how you can keep me out of your singing-parties."

There was silence for a time.

"We've been sold," some one said at last. "We've no rule to prevent this fellow from coming here. And the worst of it is, as everybody knows, his voice is so loud it will spoil all our songs."

Oddly enough, the speaker was the very one who had always objected to inviting Ferdinand Frog to join the singing parties. His own voice had always been the loudest in the whole company. And naturally he did not want anybody with a louder one to come and drown his best notes.

But now he couldn't help himself. And thereafter when the singers met in Cedar Swamp he always turned greener in the face than ever and looked as if he were about to burst, when Ferdinand Frog opened his mouth its widest and let his voice rumble forth into the night.

IX

THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER

When Ferdinand Frog first came to the Beaver pond to live no one knew anything about him.

He appeared suddenly—no one knew whence—and at once made himself very much at home. It was no time at all before he could call every one of the big Beaver family by name. And he acted exactly as if the pond belonged to him, instead of to the Beavers, whose great-grandfathers had dammed the stream many years