BULLY AND THE LARK

It was a beautiful morning in early spring. The old bullfrogs about the pond were singing so loudly that it seemed as if their cheeks must burst. The cat-tails were sending up tall, sturdy green shoots through the still water. The trees were bursting into full bloom. The little johnny-jump-ups and yellow buttercups turned their smiling faces up to the beautiful warm sun, and tiny dewdrops were like thousands of sparkling diamonds on the leaves and grasses. All nature seemed joyous and smiling in Rainbow Valley.

Everybody about the Frog Pond was happy except Bully. He was sitting on the old log this bright morning looking very glum. He didn't notice the beauty about him at all. You may wonder what was the matter with him. Surely a little frog has nothing to worry about! Maybe not, but anyhow, that was what he was doing.

He had been very unhappy ever since Grandmother Bull Frog had told him the story of the bad boys and the frogs. He had thought a great deal about it, and it made him sad. His little heart was heavy. He sat around all humped up and wished and wished there was some way to tell all the frogs about this lovely place and invite them to come here and make it their home. Oh, if he could only go himself to tell them! But he knew it was a long way off and that he couldn't find the way. Surely there must be a way to invite them if he could only think of it. He wished he could see his friend the Lark. Perhaps he could think of a plan. It seemed as if it could not be done. Grandmother Bull Frog had said it could not, and Bully knew Grandmother was a wise old frog.

Did you ever want anything very, very much? So much it fairly made you ache thinking about it? Perhaps it was a new hat or a new suit, a ticket to the picture show or to a circus. You thought and thought about how you might get the new hat or how you might get a ticket to the show. But it was all no use. You just didn't see any way to get what you wanted, yet you would not give up. That new hat or the ticket would bob up and keep on bobbing up in your mind and dancing before your eyes. Well, that is the way it was with Bully that lovely spring morning. He couldn't get rid of the longing to have all the other frogs come and share his home with him any more than a hungry boy could quit thinking about the dinner he wanted.

While he was thinking and thinking, a shadow passed swiftly before his face and made him jump. In another moment there was a whirr of wings and his friend the Lark was beside him. "My," said Bully, "how you made me jump!"

The Lark sang merrily, "I saw you sitting here looking so glum I thought I would frighten you a bit. But, friend Bully, what is your trouble? You ought to be hopping about trying out that voice of yours for the spring chorus instead of spending this fine morning in the dumps on this log."

"Well," said Bully, "I am worried and will tell you all about it, but I don't suppose it will do any good." But he brightened up a bit and told the Lark Grandmother Bull Frog's story of the bad boys and the frogs.

"Is that all that's bothering you?" asked his friend as he gobbled up a grasshopper that had been thoughtless enough to settle on the log near them.

"All!" exclaimed Bully. "Don't you think it's enough to make any frog feel badly?"

"Why, I suppose it is," replied the Lark after thinking a moment. "But I see many worse things happen to your family every day. Anyway, I don't think you can help things by making yourself so unhappy. Of course I would help all the frogs," he hastened to say, "but I see no way, and it keeps me busy looking out for my own family."

"What worse things do you see happen?" asked Bully.

"Oh," replied the Lark, "sometimes I see snakes swallow frogs whole. Often I see ducks, geese, and other big birds eat them. I see turtles eat them, too, and every now and then I see big water bugs destroying frogs' eggs. And I think," he went on to say, "the very worst thing of all that I see is men sitting on the bank, putting a fish hook right through a live frog, and then throwing the line in the water and jerking the frog about. Oh," he fluttered, "that's too dreadfully cruel to look at! I always fly away as quickly as I can and try to forget it. All these things are very, very dreadful," he said. "I can't bear to think about them."

Bully looked horrified. His big, round eyes nearly bulged out of his head and had such a frightened look. "Do you mean to tell me," he asked, "that all this is true?"

"Why, yes," said the Lark. "Do you think I would make up such dreadful stories? No, indeed, I couldn't think up such wicked things. But cheer up, Bully. It will do the other frogs no good for us to worry about them and it will only make us unhappy."

Bully was so sad he could just croak weakly, "Oo-oo, if only all the frogs could come here and live with us!"

"That would be splendid," said the Lark, "but that dreadful noise you make each evening would be much louder than it is now, and I think the birds would all go crazy."

"Don't you like it?" asked Bully innocently. "That is our grand frog chorus. Surely it's the most beautiful music in the whole world."

Now the Lark, as we all know, is one of the finest singers in woods and fields. "Oh, pardon me, I didn't know it was singing," he said, as he put his head under his wing to hide a smile. "But if you do invite all those other frogs to come here, I think I shall make my home in another neighborhood."

Bully wondered why he should want to move away from the banks of the Frog Pond. Surely, thought he, there's not a better neighborhood in Rainbow Valley. He could only think his friend must be joking. "Well," said Bully sighing, "you needn't move. I don't suppose we shall ever invite them. How can we get an invitation to them? If only there were some way to get them word of this lovely place, I'm sure they would come."

The Lark looked at Bully for a moment, then stretched first one wing and then the other as far as he could, smoothing each feather until exactly right. He then flirted his tail this way and that, looked over his breast-feathers very carefully, and at last decided he was in perfect trim. He settled down on the old log much pleased with himself as he quietly pulled a big, fat worm out of a hole and ate it.

Bully sat looking at him thoughtfully. He admired this handsome friend of the forest and was much pleased when at last he said, "If you really want a messenger, I think I could take your invitation."

"You?" said Bully, and his eyes bulged larger than ever. "Could you really fly that far?" he asked.

"Oh, of course I could, and much farther," answered the Lark. "You see, my family were all hatched two weeks ago. Mother Lark can easily care for the babies. I am sure she would be perfectly willing for me to go. She knows I need rest and a little vacation. You know, I worked pretty hard helping to build the nest and singing to her while she sat on the eggs. She will not mind at all, I'm sure, if I go."

"Oh," said Bully, "you are the very best bird in the world! When could you start?"

"Today, I suppose," replied the Lark. "I shall fly around by the nest and tell Mother Lark. I am quite sure she will be pleased to have me do this for you."

"It will be fine if you can start today," said Bully. "Be sure to tell them all about the valley and the pond."

"Surely I will," the Lark sang out. "Now perch on this old log and watch out for me when you think it's about time for me to get back. Will you?" asked the Lark.

Of course Bully would. With a hasty good-by the Lark rose in the air. Higher and higher up in the blue sky he flew, singing as he went.

Bully sat looking into the sky long after the Lark was out of sight and at last said to himself, "I think next to a bullfrog a lark is the very finest singer in the world. But I must hurry and tell Grandfather Bull Frog all about our plan."