But if you will climb upon my back, I think I can
carry you to the border in one more leap."
"I'm tired," said Trot, "an' this awful fog's beginnin' to choke me.
Let's ride on the frog, Cap'n."
"Right you are, mate," he replied, and although he shook a bit with
fear, the old man at once began to climb to the frog's back. Trot
seated herself on one side of him and Button-bright on the other,
and the sailor put his arms around them both to hold them tight
together.
"Are you ready?" asked the frog.
"Ding-dong!" cried the parrot.
"All aboard, let 'er go!
Jump the best jump that you know."
"Don't--don't! Jump sort o' easy, please," begged Cap'n Bill.
But the frog was unable to obey his request. Its powerful hind legs
straightened like steel springs and shot the big body, with its
passengers, through the fog like an arrow launched from a bow. They
gasped for breath and tried to hang on, and then suddenly the frog
landed just at the edge of the Fog Bank, stopping so abruptly that
his three riders left his back and shot far ahead of him. They felt
the fog melt away and found themselves bathed in glorious rays of
sunshine, but they had no time to consider this change because they
were still shooting through the air, and presently--before they
could think of anything at all--all three were rolling heels over
head on the soft grass of a meadow.
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