You never see a frog so modest and straightfor’ard as he was, for all he was so gifted.  An’ when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see.  Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand; and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a red.  Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had travelled and been everywhere, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.

Well, Smiley kept the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to fetch him down town sometimes and lay for a bet.  One day a feller—­a stranger in the camp, he was—­come across him with his box, and says: 

“What might it be that you’ve got in that box?”

And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like, “It might be a parrot, or it might be a canary, maybe, but it ain’t—­it’s only just a frog.”

And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round this way and that, and says, “H’m—­so ’tis.  Well, what’s he good for?”

“Well,” Smiley says, easy and careless, “he’s good enough for one thing, I should judge—­he can outjump any frog in Calaveras county.”

The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular look, and gave it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate, “Well, I don’t see no p’ints about that frog that’s any better’n any other frog.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Smiley says.  “Maybe you understand frogs, and maybe you don’t understand ’em; maybe you’ve had experience, and maybe you ain’t only a amateur, as it were.  Anyways, I’ve got my opinion, and I’ll risk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras county.”

And the feller studies a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, “Well, I’m only a stranger here, and I ain’t got no frog; but if I had a frog, I’d bet you.”

And then Smiley says, “That’s all right—­that’s all right—­if you’ll hold my box a minute, I’ll go and get you a frog.”  And so the feller took the box and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley’s, and set down to wait.

So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to hisself, and then he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoon and filled him full of quail shot—­filled him pretty near up to the chin—­and set him on the floor.  Smiley he went to the swamp and slopped around in the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog, and fetched him in, and gave him to this feller, and says: 

“Now, if you’re ready, set him alongside of Dan’l, with his forepaws just even with Dan’l, and I’ll give the word.”  Then he says, “One—­two—­three—­jump!” and him and the feller touched up the frogs from behind, and the new frog hopped off, but Dan’l give a heave, and hysted up his shoulders—­so—­like a Frenchman, but it wan’t no use—­he couldn’t budge; he was planted as solid as an anvil, and he couldn’t no more stir than if he was anchored out.  Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was disgusted too, but he didn’t have no idea what the matter was, of course.