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." [Illustration: 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." [Illustration: 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. [Illustration: "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.