for Longlegs, he looked thoroughly put out. For a moment or
two he stood glaring angrily up at Rattles. You see, when Rattles had
plunged so close to Longlegs he had frightened all the fish. Finally
Longlegs seemed to make up his mind that there was room for but one
fisherman at a time at the Smiling Pool. Spreading his great wings,
folding his long neck back on his shoulders, and dragging his long legs
out behind him, he flew heavily away in the direction of the Big River.

Rattles remained long enough to catch another little fish, and then
with a harsh rattle flew off down the Laughing Brook. "I would know him
anywhere by that rattle," thought Peter. "There isn't any one who can
make a noise anything like it. I wonder where he has gone to now. He
must have a nest, but I haven't the least idea what kind of a nest he
builds. Hello! There's Grandfather Frog over on his green lily pad.
Perhaps he can tell me."

So Peter hopped along until he was near enough to talk to Grandfather
Frog. "What kind of a nest does Rattles the Kingfisher build?" repeated
Grandfather Frog. "Chug-arum, Peter Rabbit! I thought everybody knew
that Rattles doesn't build a nest. At least I wouldn't call it a nest.
He lives in a hole in the ground."

"What!" cried Peter, and looked as if he couldn't believe his own ears.

Grandfather Frog grinned and his goggly eyes twinkled. "Yes," said he,
"Rattles lives in a hole in the ground."

"But--but--but what kind of a hole?" stammered Peter.

"Just plain hole," retorted Grandfather Frog, grinning more broadly than
ever. Then seeing how perplexed and puzzled Peter looked, he went on to
explain. "He usually picks out a high gravelly bank close to the water
and digs a hole straight in just a little way from the top. He makes
it just big enough for himself and Mrs. Rattles to go in and out of
comfortably, and he digs it straight in for several feet. I'm told that
at the end of it he makes a sort of bedroom, because he usually has a
good-sized family."

"Do you mean to say that he digs it himself?" asked Peter.

Grandfather Frog nodded. "If he doesn't, Mrs. Kingfisher does," he
replied. "Those big bills of theirs are picks as well as fish spears.
They loosen the sand with those and scoop it out with their feet. I've
never seen the inside of their home myself, but I'm told that their
bedroom is lined with fish bones. Perhaps you may call that a nest, but
I don't."

"I'm going straight down the Laughi