They bicker back and forth, but there is no winner in this war of words. It’s a stalemate, which ends when Mrs. Wright blows her whistle in an ear-piercing shriek that sends campers squealing with their hands over their ears.
Things settle down when Hap Holloway takes the stage and speaks into a microphone, which makes his voice boom. He’s as loud as Mrs. Wright’s whistle!
“Welcome to the Happy Hollow Comedy Club!” he says.
Then the counselors take the stage, and I can’t believe my froggy eyes. The grown-ups are acting out silly little plays they call “skits,” and the campers can’t stop laughing.
I can’t quite follow all of it, but I do enjoy seeing Aldo wearing bunny ears. I never saw a rabbit with a big, floppy mustache like Aldo’s before!
I look around and see everybody having such a good time.
Gail’s smiling for the first time since she got to camp, and Miranda seems to have forgotten all about her mother.
Even Garth looks more like the friendly boy I remember from Room 26.
I’ve been worried about their problems, but tonight, it looks like those problems have disappeared.
On the other hand, Brad and Noah don’t smile at all, no matter what the counselors do.
* * *
Later in the evening, I end up in the Bobwhites’ cabin. They must be doing a great job of cleaning the cabin and being on time to win me again.
Sam is still his upbeat, confident self. When Ty compliments him on the home runs he hit today, Sam smiles and says, “Thanks.” In return, he compliments Ty on his diving.
“I’m still learning,” Ty admits.
“Well, you nailed it today,” Sam says.
Hearing that makes me hoppy.
“I’m trying to get in a little extra batting practice so we can win the Clash of the Cabins,” Sam continues. “I think if we practice for all of the events, we might have a chance.”
“Chance?” Garth says. “We’ve got to win! We can’t lose with you on our team, Sam!”
“How about volleyball?” Sam says. “We could work together on our serves.”
Garth sits back and crosses his arms. “It doesn’t matter how I play. With your scores, we can’t lose.”
“There are some events we haven’t practiced much,” Ty says. “Like knot tying and archery.”
Noah looks up from the book he’s reading. “Knots? You need to look at these charts. It’s all right here.” He holds up the book so we can see pictures of all kinds of knots. “We could practice right now.”
Ty sighs. “I don’t know. My brain understands the knots, but my hands don’t get the message.”
“You guys aren’t listening,” Garth says. “Stop worrying. We’ve already got this wrapped up!”
Sam shakes his head. “It’s not over yet.”
“We’re going to win. I guarantee it,” Garth insists.
“I want to win, but I don’t think I want to meet the Howler,” Ty admits.
Again, Noah says there’s no such thing as the Howler. “I’d know about it,” he explains.
“I read this comic book about a swamp monster,” Sam says. “He was all mossy and smelly and swampy.”
That sounds good to me!
“I think the scariest thing is his howl.” Garth lets out a chilling “owoooo!”
The way he does it, it’s blood-curdling, all right.
“Owoooo! Owoooo!” Sam and Garth howl together.
Noah rolls his eyes, which isn’t surprising, but Ty claps his hands over his ears.
“Guys . . . stop!” he says. “I’ll have bad dreams.”
“It’s not real,” Noah tells him. “You guys would believe anything.”
He sounds definite, but I’m not so sure myself. I haven’t seen a Howler, but there are a lot of things I haven’t seen that are real, like gravity and electricity.
There could be a Howler, but I hope Noah is right.
That night, it stops raining. It’s eerily quiet as the boys sleep soundly, but I stay awake, listening for a distant “owoooo!”
I hope Ty isn’t having bad dreams. I hope I don’t have bad dreams. And I wonder if Humphrey is worried about the Howler. Has he ever seen such a fearsome creature before? (I have, if you count owls, bats, snapping turtles, wolves and hawks.)
Then I remember Granny Greenleaf’s words. “It’s wise to be wary of things that are scary.”
I go to sleep feeling wary and thinking of my song.
Where’s the Howler?
Where’s the Howler?
In the woods.
In the woods.
I don’t want to see him.
I just want to flee him.
Stay away!
Stay away!
Furry Worries
If your buddy is in trouble, go to help him on the double!
—Granny Greenleaf’s Wildlife Wisdom
I don’t know if he’s trying to tell me about the Howler or something else, but Humphrey is unusually excited, even for him. He squeaks out a long story while we’re in the rec room.
“SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK! SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”
“Calm down, Humphrey! You’ll get a sore throat!” I tell him.
He doesn’t get to finish his story because Katie and Ms. Mac set some boxes next to us on the table. They say that the boxes contain stickers.
The only stickers I’ve seen grow on bushes in the swamp, and believe me, if you get close to them, you’ll definitely get stuck! But these stickers are harmless-looking little pieces of paper with pictures on them.
Katie and Ms. Mac quickly leave.
I expect Humphrey to try to finish his story, but he does something unexpected instead. He flings open his cage door and dashes across the table.
I am as surprised as a butterfly landing in a bramble bush to see this, because I’m pretty sure Ms. Mac said they’d be right back.
“Hurry! You’ll get caught!” I warn him.
Humphrey grabs some stickers in his mouth, hurries back to his cage and swings the door shut.
Now what? If Katie and Ms. Mac come back, they’ll have a pretty good idea that he’s been out of his cage. How else would he have gotten those stickers?
As usual, he has a plan. He races across the cage, pokes his head behind his mirror, pulls out the notebook he keeps hidden there and stuffs the stickers inside.
Just as Ms. Mac and Katie return, he slides the notebook back in its hiding place.
* * *
Later, in the Nature Center, Humphrey watches two of the campers intently.
“It’s not polite to stare,” I tell him, but he ignores my boings.
What’s so interesting about Gail and Brad? They hardly ever smile. And they both hate camp.
Whoa! I guess that’s what they have in common!
After a while, everyone in the center leaves for a nature hike, which sounds good to me. I’d like to see the sky above, feel the grass below and maybe even get a little muddy instead of being stuck inside. No such luck.
Humphrey squeaks at me, then races over to his hidden notebook, pulls out some stickers, opens the cage and scurries down the leg with the stickers in his mouth.
I guess he must know what he’s doing, but what if the nature hike is a short one?
“Hurry, pal!” I call.
He heads straight for Brad’s notebook, which is on the floor, and slides a sticker under the cover.
Then he dashes over to Gail’s notebook and slips the other sticker in it.
There are no blinds here, so there’s no cord for him to swing on. So, to get back, he scrambles up a tall plant next to Jake the Snake’s tank.
“Don’t get too close to Jake!” I warn him.
Jake sticks out his tongue, but Humphrey ignores him
and races back to his cage.
Whew! He makes it! I dive into the water side of my tank and swim some laps to calm down.
Then I take time to Float. Doze. Be. That’s when I let my mind drift wherever it wants to go.
Today my mind wants to hop back to the swamp for a nice, juicy cricket. But when I hear Katie say, “Open your notebooks,” I leap back onto my rock to see what happens.
When Brad and Gail open their notebooks, they both look surprised at what they find.
Humphrey squeaks with happiness as they both put their stickers in their pockets.
I’m still puzzling over what just happened when the next group of campers comes in for their session.
As soon as he arrives, Noah marches over to our table, leans down and makes a big announcement. “I’m going to try to get you out of that cage, Humphrey. You too, Og.”
Humphrey squeaks in alarm, and I suddenly feel as cold as the day before hibernation.
“NO!” I boing. “Not a good idea!”
Sure, I’d do okay in the wild, but I don’t think poor Humphrey would have a clue.
Noah goes right to his seat and waves his hand. Ms. Mac calls on him.
“Can’t we at least let Humphrey get some fresh air?” he asks.
Ms. Mac points out that one entire wall of the cabin is open, so there’s plenty of fresh air.
“He could walk around in his hamster ball,” Noah suggests.
That sounds harmless enough, as long as Humphrey stays inside.
Before I know it, my furry friend is rolling along the floor, under chairs, past shoes, and . . . wait a second. He’s rolling right out the door!
“BOING!” I say. I wish I could just say, “HELP!”
Am I the only one who notices?
I keep my eyes peeled, watching to see Humphrey roll back in again. But Humphrey doesn’t appear, and class goes on as usual. Sometimes I’m amazed at how much humans miss!
So I try again. “BOING-BOING!”
No response. This calls for stronger measures. “BOING-BOING!”
No one raises an eyebrow. Not even Noah. And he thinks he knows it all.
I wait a few seconds and then try again. “BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!” I warn.
Katie suddenly stops talking. “Og, what’s the matter with you?”
“THERE’S NOTHING THE MATTER WITH ME!” I tell her. “It’s Humphrey I’m worried about!”
Ms. Mac finally notices. “Oh! Where’s Humphrey?”
“HE ROLLED OUTSIDE!” I boing as clearly as I can.
Of course, they don’t understand. They waste a lot of time searching inside, when I know Humphrey is outside.
FINALLY, they catch on.
“Maybe he rolled outside,” Miranda says.
“Of course,” Noah agrees. “I knew he wanted to be outside.”
“But he has no idea what he’s doing in the wild!” I insist.
Nobody’s listening to my boings. They have all rushed outside to look for Humphrey.
I wish I could roam free, because I think I could find him faster than the big tads will.
I hold my breath and wait. When I finally hear Simon say, “Wait a second! I see him!” my heart leaps up in my chest.
Before I know it, Humphrey is safe and sound back in his cage again.
“Welcome back, pal,” I tell him.
He staggers into his sleeping hut and doesn’t come out for a long time.
While Humphrey is sleeping, Ms. Mac talks to the class about how everyone is responsible for our animals and how we should have been paying more attention to Humphrey.
“I am as guilty as the rest of you,” Ms. Mac says. “We all have to keep our pets safe.”
“Yes!” I agree. “Keep Humphrey safe in his cage!”
“He’s not a pet!” That’s Noah, of course. “He belongs in the wild. And that’s where he wanted to go.”
Did he? Really? That doesn’t sound like Humphrey.
“Thank goodness Og was paying attention and let us know,” Ms. Mac says. “And he certainly did let us know.”
Yes, but it wasn’t easy!
While I float on my back in the water and wonder what happened to Humphrey out there, I remember my song and think about a new verse.
Humphrey loves to help his friends,
He’s a daring camp pet,
But once he rolled right out the door,
And I got really upset.
Humphrey Hamster, let me know,
Everywhere that you’ve been!
Tell me what you did out there
So I can rest again!
I’m going back to the Robins’ Nest again tonight, and I have mixed feelings.
I’m hoppy to have a chance to find out if Miranda’s mom is letting her try horseback riding and if Gail has cheered up. But I’m worried that any minute, Lindsey will grab me and give me a squeeze. Ewww!
Ms. Mac delivers me to the cabin before dinner. During that time of day, the campers rest a little and write letters. Of course, Gail has been writing letters nonstop since she arrived at Camp Happy Hollow!
I keep a close eye on her today, and right away, I notice her take out that sticker and look at it, before quickly stuffing it back in her pocket.
Do I see a hint of a smile on her face?
The girls all sit on their beds with paper and pens in hand.
“Maybe I’ll write to Og,” Lindsey says.
“Why?” Kayla asks. “He’s right here.”
Lindsey giggles. “I’ll write him a love letter.”
Kayla rolls her eyes. “Lindsey, he’s a frog.”
“I know,” Lindsey says. “But he’s so cute. Maybe I’ll write my parents and see if they’d let me bring him home when camp is over.”
Miranda objects. “He’s our class pet. You can’t take him!”
“But you have Humphrey, too. Not fair!” Lindsey says. “But okay, I won’t write about taking Og home.”
That’s a huge relief to me!
Miranda brings her paper and pen over to my table. “Mind if I sit here, Og?” she asks.
“Please do!” I answer. After all, if Miranda sits next to me, maybe Lindsey won’t pick me up and give me a hug.
Miranda thinks and writes. She writes and stops to think. She crumples up her letter into a little ball.
“Oh, Og,” she says. “I write the same thing every day. I tell Mom I love camp. I tell her it’s fun and safe. I tell her how great the counselors are. And I tell her it would sure be fun to try riding a nice, tame horse. I even told her about Golden, who the youngest campers get to ride, but nothing ever changes.”
“I know!” I tell her. “I’m so sorry!”
Miranda takes out another piece of paper and stares at it. “She means well, Og. She loves me and wants the best for me,” she says. “But you’d let me ride a horse, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course!” I boing.
Personally, there’s no way I’d ever ride a horse, but then . . . frogs never do.
“Dear Mom,” Miranda says as she writes. “I miss you, but I love camp more every day! I’ve made so many new friends.”
“BOING!” I tell her. “That’s a good start.”
“I know you don’t want me to go horseback riding, but everybody is having fun on their rides . . . except me.”
Hmmm. I don’t think her mom will like that.
“BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!” I say, splashing around in the water.
Miranda pulls her paper back. “Og! You’re getting my letter wet.”
“Sorry.” I use my softest boing. “It’s just a bit boring!”
Miranda stares hard at my tank. “I guess it sounds a little boring. I keep saying the same thing over and over.”
I hop up onto my rock so we can look at each other eye to eye. “BOING-BOING!” I say to let her know I understand.
“I wish you could write the letter.” Miranda giggles. “But you’d get the paper all wet.”
An excellent point. A frog trying to write a letter is not a good idea.
Miranda sighs. “Just tell me what to say, Og.”
I know she’s kidding, but I decide to give it my all. “BOING-BOING. BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!” I tell her.
She giggles again. “I can’t write BOING-BOING. Mom wouldn’t understand.”
“BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” I keep trying. “BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!”
“Oh! It’s silly, but it might work,” she says as she picks up the pen and starts writing.
I hope she doesn’t write what she hears, but what is in my heart.
“Dear Mrs. Golden, I hope you don’t mind me writing, but I am Og the Frog, and I am a good friend of your daughter’s,” she says out loud as she writes.
BING-BANG-BOING! She’s got it!
“I’m keeping a close eye on Miranda here at Happy Hollow, and I can see she’s having a good time,” Miranda continues. Then she crosses something out.
“I can see she’s having a GREAT time.” She smiles. “She’s made so many friends and loves all of her activities.”
“You’ve got it!” I tell her.
Miranda writes some more. “She’s a nice girl. She obeys all the safety rules whatever she does.”
Good point! And it’s true.
“But I know she feels left out because everyone is taking horseback riding lessons except her,” she says. “The instructor here, William, has been teaching riding to campers for over ten years. He even teaches five-year-olds when he’s not at camp.”
Miranda stops writing.
“Keep going!” I say. “Write what’s in your heart.”
Miranda stares at me. I know all she’s heard are my boings.
Then she writes more and reads it to me. “There’s a horse that I’d love to see her ride. Her name is Golden, like Miranda’s last name. She’s beautiful and is the gentlest horse here.”
She stares at the letter. Something is wrong!
Wildlife According to Og the Frog Page 5
