Douglas English - A Book of Nimble Beasts

He steered a zig-zag course, and, scanning every leaf in turn, came to the outskirts of the cluster. Here he sank slowly down, until his nose alone was visible. The leaf on his right hand was moving. A ripple ran the length of it; then, close beside its stalk, appeared a snout, a quivering trembling snout; then two bead eyes; then a trim velvet body. The Natterjack brought up his head again. No danger here, only a water Shrew-mouse. The Shrew-mouse took no heed of him. She swam the circuit of her leaf three times, dived once or twice, then climbed upon its surface. Here she performed her toilet. The goggle-eyes in no way disconcerted her. At length the Natterjack found words:

"Can you tell me," he said, politely, "where the French Frog has got to?"

The Shrew-mouse gave a little jump. She had been combing out her tail, which was important.

"The French Frog?" she said; "the French Frog? I'm sick of the French Frog. What between him and the Water Rat—and the queer thing is that neither of them seems to know that the other–"

"Of course, he's very fond of me," she added. "Every day he sings at me, and so, of course, when he comes my way, I have to ask him to sing; and the worst of it is, when I ask him to sing, he does sing."

"I think that might be cured," said the Natterjack, "if you can tell me where he is."

"Where did you see him last?" said the Shrew-mouse.

"Under the furze-bush," said the Natterjack.

"Under the furze-bush?" echoed the Shrew-mouse; "perhaps then I can find him. Swim behind me."

She slid so neatly off her leaf that not a drop of water reached her back. Then she commenced to paddle, her feet alternate, her square tail trailing, her nose and face awash. Twin ripples spread on either side of her, and, in between them, though their distance widened, the Natterjack swam stoutly, using his squat hind-legs alone, short jerky thrusts of them, and losing at each stroke.

He reached the shore two yards behind, but yet in time to see the last of her, a fluttering wavy tail-tip, which skimmed the summit of a stone and disappeared behind it.

This was disheartening. The Natterjack had spent his strength, and quick pursuit was out of question. He paused and stretched each limb in turn, scratched his chin doubtfully, and looked about him. He looked first at the water, then at the stone to fix it in his memory, and lastly at the bank above. Here his eyes rested, expressionless at first, lack-lustrous, but presently, with quickened interest, sparkling.

It must be, yes it was, the self-same furze-bush. He stared intently. It was the self-same stone. Perhaps the French Frog still was close at hand; perhaps the Shrew-mouse knew his hiding-place.

He flung his tiredness off him, and started running jauntily.

He had not far to go. Two scurries brought him to the stone, two scrambles to its summit.

There was the Shrew-mouse just below.

She was too occupied to note his coming. She coursed along the water's edge, her head dropped low, her face almost submerged. At times she paused and sniffed the air, her nose upturned and crinkly, her bristles fan-shape. Then she would drop her head again and probe the water.

The Natterjack watched quietly for a while, but soon impatience mastered him. He crept down and addressed her timidly.

"You said you might find the French Frog," he began.

"I have found him," said the Shrew-mouse; "he's down there—as usual."

"Down where?" said the Natterjack.

"Down in the water," said the Shrew-mouse, "down at the bottom of this pool, a good foot down."

"Would you mind asking him to come up?" said the Natterjack.

"I've asked him for five minutes," said the Shrew-mouse. "He must be fast asleep. I know he's there; I've seen his bubbles."

"How can we wake him?" said the Natterjack.

"You'd better dive," said the Shrew-mouse.

Now Natterjacks are bad enough at swimming; at diving they are hopeless.

"In you go," said the Shrew-mouse.

For very shame the Natterjack went in.

He swam to what he judged a likely spot, ducked down his head, his hands pressed tight against it, and lunged with both hind-legs. These, splashing on the surface, urged him on, but not one inch below.

Five times he tried, and five times his fat body, when half submerged, shot up and bobbed afloat.

Five Times He Tried, and Five Times His Fat Body, when Half Submerged, Shot Up and Bobbed Afloat

The Shrew-Mouse drew all Four Feet together and Slithered Eel-wise off the Ledge

The Shrew-mouse rocked with laughter.

"Again, Natterjack!" she cried. "Again! again!"

Shame-faced, he paddled back to shore.

"Be charitable, Shrew-mouse, be charitable. I did my best."

The Shrew-mouse looked at him inquiringly. "Never mind, Natterjack," she said, "I'll fetch him. It's hardly the right thing to do, but still–"

She climbed a ledge, drew all four feet together, and slithered off it eel-wise. She swam a yard and dived. The water closed like oil upon her going. Ten seconds passed and then she reappeared.

"He's coming, Natterjack," she said, and landed close beside him. The French Frog shot up like a cork, and half of him splashed clear above the surface. He took two strokes to reach the shore, and came out moist and shiny. He bristled with apologies—"It was unpardonable. He was altogether desolated. That a lady should have had to dive for him. Alas! he had been dreaming, and his dream, like all his dreams–"

He Bristled with Apologies

The Shrew-mouse cut him short.

"The King Toad has heard your singing," she said, "and has commanded your presence. The Natterjack will guide you."

Ambition strove with gallantry, and, for a time, the French Frog wavered.

"And have I your permission, Shrew-mouse?" he said, at last.

"Please go," said she, "then come and tell me all about it." So both departed. The Shrew-mouse watched them out of sight, then swam to open water. She wished the Rat to see her next.

"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it is my privilege to inform you that I have been successful."

The King Toad made no answer. His eyes turned from the Natterjack to his companion, and, after an appropriate pause, he signed with one fore-foot.

The French Frog tiptoed forward.

"I have heard your singing," said the King Toad, "and your singing has annoyed me intensely."

There was a queer strained silence.

The Natterjack turned to conceal his face, and saw the Green Toad perched above him. He too was struggling to keep countenance. Beside him was the Salamander, wreathed in smiles.

The Green Toad, too, was Struggling to keep Countenance

"Your singing has annoyed me intensely," repeated the King Toad.

Words failed the French Frog, who could only gulp.