can’t go any farther,” cried Bully, coming to a stop.

“No,” said his brother, “we can’t jump down that awful gully. But look, Bully, there is another hill over there,” and he pointed across the big, open space. “If we could jump across from this hill to that hill, the alligator couldn’t get us.”

“Oh, but it’s a terrible big jump,” said Bully, and indeed it was; about as wide as a big river. “But we’ve got to do it!” cried Bully, “for here comes the terrible beast!”

The alligator was almost upon them. He opened his mouth to grab them with his teeth, when Bully, spreading out his legs, and taking a firm hold of his grocery basket, gave a great, big jump. Through the air he sailed, over the deep valley, and he landed safely on the other hill. Then Bawly did the same, and with one most tremendous, extemporaneous and extraordinary jump, he landed close beside his brother, and the alligator couldn’t get either of them because he couldn’t jump across the chasm.

Oh, but he was an angry alligator though! He gnashed his teeth and wiggled his tail and even cried big round tears. Nearly all alligators cry little square tears, but even round ones didn’t do a bit of good. Then Bully threw a marble at the savage creature, and hit him on the nose, and Bawly blew his whistle so loud, that the alligator thought a policeman, or postman, was coming, and he turned around and ran away, and the frog boys went on safely home with their baskets of groceries and had a good supper.

Now in case that alligator doesn’t chase after me, and chew up my typewriter to make mincemeat of it for the wax doll, I’ll tell you in the next story about Grandpa Croaker digging a well.