Every feather on Whitetail's head was standing erect with rage, and he
looked very fierce and terrible. At last he saw a chance, or thought he
did, and shot down. But all he got was a feather from that great wing
which Longlegs kept in front of him, and before he could get away, that
long bill had struck him twice, so that he screamed with pain. So they
fought and fought, till the ground was covered with feathers, and they
were too tired to fight any longer. Then, slowly and painfully, old
Whitetail flew away over the Green Meadows, and with torn and ragged
wings, Longlegs flew heavily down the Laughing Brook towards the Big
River, and both were sore and stiff and still hungry.
"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible thing and how useless anger is," said
Grandfather Frog, as he climbed back on his big green lily-pad in the
warm sunshine.
VII
GRANDFATHER FROG'S BIG MOUTH GETS HIM IN TROUBLE
Grandfather Frog has a great big mouth. You know that. Everybody does.
His friends of the Smiling Pool, the Laughing Brook, and the Green
Meadows have teased Grandfather Frog a great deal about the size of his
mouth, but he hasn't minded in the least, not the very least. You see,
he learned a long time ago that a big mouth is very handy for catching
foolish green flies, especially when two happen to come along together.
So he is rather proud of his big mouth, just as he is of his goggly
eyes.
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