But she was too late. The French Frog's mouth had closed again, and all now visible of Bombinator was one distraught hind leg. [Illustration: HE LAY AS HE HAD FALLEN ON HIS BACK] "Excellent," murmured the King Toad, and watched the French Frog narrowly. He was worth watching. He paled a dirty ochre, his eyes rolled horribly, he scratched his sides with both hind feet, he dragged at his own throat, he gasped and foamed and spluttered. "Most interesting," said the King. But there was more to follow. The French Frog straddled with his toes wide spread; then came an uncontrollable explosion, which flung him four feet skywards, and, at the height of this great leap, loosed Bombinator. Two thuds were heard, the first a sounding, floppy one, the second farther off and duller. "I thought that would happen," said the King Toad. The French Frog slowly pulled himself together, climbed up the slope, and sat with mouth agape. His inside was red-hot. The Natterjack burst into song, the Green Toad joined him, the Salamander laughed outright, but Bombinatrix, with a heavy heart, hopped silently away. She was not long in finding him. He lay, as he had fallen, on his back, his hands and feet outspread, his poor throat twitching. But he still breathed, breathed in short, wheezy, gasping sobs, which made his whole frame shudder. She crept up close and whispered. I cannot tell you what she said, but Bombinator caught the sense of it. He stretched his legs as far as they would go, and clasped his hands beneath his chin. This seemed to ease his breathing, and presently, from every pore, welled a bead-drop of moisture. He lay thus for an hour, and Bombinatrix mounted guard beside him. At last he moved, but Bombinatrix checked him instantly. "Down, Toad of mine," she whispered, "down for your dear life!" "What is it now?" he groaned. "Ducks," whispered Bombinatrix, "Great, Fat, White Ducks!" [Illustration: "DUCKS," WHISPERED BOMBINATRIX, "GREAT, FAT, WHITE DUCKS"] ANIMALS' NESTS (MARCH) [Illustration]