"This is a queer pond," said the Natterjack; "it's full of noises. A shrew-mouse chirped as I swam back, and half a dozen bubbles struck me. That means there's something grunting. My yellow stripe! what's that?"
It rose crescendo,
"brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!"
and finished amoroso,
"KO-ax! KO-ax! KO-ax!"
"I know it," shrieked Bombinator. His little eyes were starting from their sockets, as he sat up entranced.
"I know it," echoed Bombinatrix.
"Then you might share your knowledge," snapped the Natterjack. Jealousy had convulsed him, for he too can sing.
"A French Frog," cried Bombinator.
"A French Frog," echoed Bombinatrix, and in a rattle came the southern notes:
"brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!"
"KO-ax! KO-ax! KO-ax!"
"I'll find him, if I hop all night," said Bombinator.
He plunged aside into the grass, and Bombinatrix followed at his heels.
The Natterjack soon caught them. He ran with little mouse-steps.
His Little Eyes were Starting from their Sockets as he sat up entranced
"Are you quite prudent?" he jerked out.
"Prudent?" said Bombinator, "why, he's a countryman."
So all three went together, and dropped abreast into the Green Toad's burrow.
"Have you heard him?" said Bombinator.
The Green Toad was half dozing.
"Heard what?" he muttered sleepily.
"The French Frog," said Bombinator. "Come out and listen."
They pulled him out between them.
THE WATER-RAT HAD LEFT HIS LEAF AND NOW WAS IN THE REED-STEMS. HE HELD A TWO-INCH CUTTING IN HIS PAWS. THEY HEARD HIS MUNCHING PLAINLY
The Green Toad slowly stretched himself.
"That?" said he, "that's not French." Then he relapsed to sleep again.
"What did I tell you?" said the Natterjack.
"You told us nothing," said Bombinator. "Let's ask the Salamander."
The Salamander had not moved an inch.
"Is that song French?" the Natterjack inquired.
The Salamander slowly raised his head, curled S-wise out and home again, blinked either eye three times, smiled fatuously at each toad in turn, and then smiled at the sky.
"Oh, come on!" said the Natterjack. The Natterjack is all on wires, and Salamanders madden him.
"brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!"
"KO-ax! KO-ax! KO-ax!"
The Natterjack now led them, faster and faster as the song grew louder, hippy-hoppy, hurry-scurry, bumping against the snails and spiders, starting the flies and beetles, and rousing every sleeper in the grass.
Small wonder that they soon encountered trouble.
They wakened the King Toad.
Since you last knew him, the King Toad has grown. His waist is fourteen inches. His mouth could welcome three small toads abreast.
The fire-toads crouched in front of him (the mouth seemed very wide); even the Natterjack hung back, and waited to be spoken to.
Ten minutes passed, and then the King Toad spoke, in slow, imperial-measured tones.
"Who are you?" said he, and fixed his royal eye on Bombinator.
Bombinator's mouth was flattened to the ground, and his reply was indistinct.
"Speak louder," said the King Toad.
But Bombinator kept his head. If he spoke louder he must move, and, if he moved, he might be swallowed.
Once more he muttered with closed lips.
The King Toad slowly raised one foot. Before it reached the ground again the Natterjack had vanished. So had the fire-toads, but in different fashion. Where they had been were now two spotted toadstools.
"That's a queer trick," said the King meditatively. "Orange underneath I see. Risky to eat without inquiries. Come back, Natterjack."
The Salamander had not moved an Inch
Two yellow eyes were peeping round a dock-leaf. The Natterjack slouched low in the Presence.
"Have you seen this trick before?" said the King Toad coldly.
"I have, Sire," said the Natterjack.
"Do it yourself," said the King Toad.
"Alas, Sire," said the Natterjack, "I am too stout."
"Not a bad fault," said the King more graciously, "not a bad fault. What is the meaning of it?"
"It means, Sire, that my two small friends are frightened."
"Frightened?" said the King Toad; "frightened of what?"
"Of you, Sire."
The Natterjack Slouched low into the Presence
"Of me?" said the King Toad. "Why should a toad fear me? I am the Protector of all toads." He swelled himself imperially.
"Have You Seen this Trick before?" said the King Toad
"These are strange toads, Sire," said the Natterjack, "they come from France."
"France?" said the King; "this must be looked to. The place is being overrun with aliens. Undo them, Natterjack."
The Natterjack looked pained.
"Sire," he gasped out, "they're poisonous. I bit one once, and could not sing for days."
"Could not sing for days?" said the King. "Could not sing for days?" The shadow of a smile played round his mouth.
"Just fetch me that French Frog," he said.
"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it was during our unsuccessful search for him that we had the felicity of being so graciously received by your Majesty."
"You know him then," said the King, frowning.
"The fire-toads know his song, Sire. At least they said he was a countryman."
"They shall be made better acquainted," said the King, "much better acquainted. You will find the French Frog by the water's edge, beneath the furze-bush. You may go."
The Natterjack went scudding like a mouse.
He started in the wrong direction, but chance befriended him. Climbing upon a clump of moss, he opened out the circuit of the pond. The furze-bush stood on the far side of it. Its lower branches jutted from the bank, and, arching downwards, trailed into the water. From the first dip of them spread dancing waves.
The French Frog still was singing, and each note, caught and re-echoed overhead, crept down the boughs and rippled to the shore.
So far so good. His goal was plainly visible. But how to get there? He made a bee-line for the water's edge, and tumbled down the bank.
His first idea, to swim, was soon abandoned.
With no clear mark by which to set his course he might swim on till nightfall. But if he crept along close to the water? This