“That is all you need tell me,” chuckled Grandfather Frog.  “That was the voice of Dippy the Loon.  And let me tell you something, Peter:  you are not the first one to think his voice has a crazy sound.  Oh, my, no!  No, indeed!  Why, a lot of people think Dippy is crazy, and when any one does queer things they say of him that he is ‘crazy as a Loon.’

“But is he crazy?” asked Peter.

“Chug-a-rum!” exclaimed Grandfather Frog.  “Chug-a-rum!  Not half so crazy as you are, Peter, coming over here to the Smiling Pool in broad daylight.  He likes to be thought crazy, just as his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather did before him, that’s all.  Everybody thought his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather was crazy, and it paid Mr. Loon to have them think so.  So he did his best to make them keep thinking so.”

“Tell me about it.  Do please tell me about it, Grandfather Frog,” begged Peter.  “Please, please, please.”

Now how could Grandfather Frog resist that?  He couldn’t.  He didn’t even try to.  He just cleared his throat once or twice and began.

“Once on a time, long, long ago, lived the very first of all the Loons, the ever-and-ever-and-ever-so-great-grandfather of Dippy, whose voice frightened you so last night.”

“How did you know it frightened me?” exclaimed Peter, for he had taken care not to tell Grandfather Frog anything about that.

Grandfather Frog chuckled and went right on with his story.  “Right from the beginning Mr. Loon was a mighty independent fellow.  It didn’t take him long to find out that Old Mother Nature had too much to do to waste any time on those who didn’t try to take care of themselves, and that those would live longest who were smartest and most independent.  He had sharp eyes, had old Mr. Loon, just as Dippy has today, and he used them to good account.  He saw at once that with so many birds and animals living on the land it was likely to get crowded after a while, and that when such became the case, it was going to be mighty hard work for some to get a living.  So Mr. Loon went to Mother Nature and told her that if she had no objections he would like a pair of swimming feet and would live on the water.

“Now Old Mother Nature had just fitted out Mr. Duck with a pair of webbed feet that he might swim, so she was quite prepared to fit Mr. Loon out in like manner.

“‘I suppose,’ said she, ‘that you want a bill like Mr. Duck’s.’

“Mr. Loon shook his head.  ‘Thank you,’ said he, ’but I would prefer a sharp bill to a broad one.’

“‘How is that?’ exclaimed Mother Nature.  ’Mr. Duck has been delighted with his bill ever since I gave it to him.’

“‘And with good reason,’ replied Mr. Loon.  ’Did I propose to live as Mr. Duck lives, I should want a bill just like his, but I find that fish are more to my liking.  Also I have noticed that there are fewer who eat fish.’

“So Mother Nature gave him the kind of bill he wanted, and Mr. Loon went about his business.  He managed to get fish enough to keep from going hungry, but he found that the only way he could do it was to sit perfectly still until a fish swam within reach and then strike swiftly.  In fact, his fishing was much like that of Mr. Heron, save that the latter stood instead of sitting.  Success was chiefly the result of luck and patience.