Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

hot coffee, radishes, pickles and cookies. An appetizing meal but we needed no appetizer!

There was no moon that night so we anticipated a more successful frog-hunt. There were too many of us however,but we had enough pleasure out of it to make up for it. When it became quite dark the fireflies came forth. There seemed to be millions of them and they were a beautiful sight. Presently the frog-calls continued. They were of varying depths and tones. Some frogs, the small one were yet rather weak voiced and when one heard their puny “Spung” and then listened to the deep-toned croaking of some monster frog he imagined a mouse might as well try to be noticed about the roar of a lion, by his squeaking. An odd sound, a frog’s croaking especially at night when all is dark and quiet. There was only one of the deep-voiced ones. Jim Groner took an especial dislike to that one and vowed again and again he’d “get him”.