Chapter 22

LEARNING TO HOLD HIS BREATH

There on the bank of Black Creek Mr. Frog and Long Bill Wren talked in whispers about mud baths. And in a short time Long Bill announced that he had made up his mind to try one.

"Good!" Mr. Frog cried, as he patted his neighbor on the back. "And now let me give you a bit of advice. Before you dive into the creek you should learn to hold your breath. . . .

"You'd better go home and begin practising at once."

So Long Bill Wren flew into his house and stayed there the rest of that day. But he soon found that all was not as simple as he had hoped. Whenever he was trying to hold his breath his wife was sure to ask him a question. And of course that led to trouble. If he didn't answer her she thought him rude—and said so, quite frankly, too. While if he did answer her, speaking spoiled his practice.

It was annoying, to say the least. And by the next morning the poor fellow was almost frantic.

He sought out Mr. Frog and explained how hard it was for him to learn to hold his breath.

"If you could only think of some way of making my wife hold hers too!" Long Bill moaned.

But Mr. Frog said at once that nobody could do that, and there was no use in trying.

"Why don't you," he asked, "go off by yourself in Cedar Swamp, and practice there?"

But Long Bill said that he ought not to stay away from home long enough to do that.

"Then there's only one way left for you," Mr. Frog decided. "You must practice at night, when your wife's asleep."

"A good idea!" Long Bill whispered. "I'll try it this very night!"

Bright and early the next morning Long Bill Wren found Mr. Frog a little way up the creek and told him that his night's practice had been a great success.

"I began holding my breath right after sunset," he said, "and it was so easy that I fell asleep. And I never breathed once all night long, until I awoke at day-break."

The news delighted Mr. Frog.

"Good!" he cried. "And now there's one more thing you must do before you take a mud bath. You must learn to breathe through your skin. . . . Just try right now," he urged his companion.

So Long Bill tried to breathe through his skin, while holding his breath at the same time.

And soon he began to sputter and choke.

"I'm afraid I can't do it," he faltered at last.

Mr. Frog looked somewhat glum—for a moment.

He pondered in silence. And at length he declared that without doubt there must be something wrong with Long Bill's skin!

"How long have you worn it?" he inquired.

"All my life!" Long Bill told him.

"That's it!" Mr. Frog exclaimed. "It's worn out. You'll have to pull it off and use a fresh one."