Dolan gulped. "I dunno if I want one of them ugly looking things we saw
in that side pen," he said.
"They're no uglier than you are, Joe," chuckled Masson. "Hunt up a pool
of clear water and look at yourself sometime." He gripped Dolan's arm.
"But that's what I was thinking about," he went on. "About that side
pen in the cave where the newly hatched Butrads are kept. We kidnaped
the Frogs' women, so...."
"Why not their kids?" Dolan laughed. "We seem to be going in for crime
in a big way."
"The young ones will have a better chance for living to adulthood,"
argued Masson. "We're doing them a favor. And the Frogs can't know
whose children are gone and whose are left."
"Sounds all right the way you put it," agreed Dolan. "Maybe because I
want to believe it. But will the little brats have brains enough to
soak up education?"
"I'm sure of it, Joe. All they need is opportunity."
"So I'm to go back and get ten or twelve other guys," said Dolan, "and
we'll clean out this Frog nursery."
"Right. I'll stay here and watch the whole procedure. Don't hurry back.
Maybe a week or so will be better."
"Okay, Glade," said the scarred giant, moving at a crouch along the
low-roofed way. "Be seeing you."
A turn in the ascending tunnel smothered the last low-spoken words, and
Masson was left alone.
The blind men came into the cavern at the direction of the wrinkled old
hags. They carefully stripped away layer upon layer of vegetation from
the smallest and brownest mound.
Masson leaned further out over the rim of the hole above the cavern
floor to watch. He had feared that the party of men from the crater
would arrive before he could see the uncovering of a mound and the
hatching of the Frog eggs.
The last layer of thidin and grass came away and perhaps a hundred of
the leathery bluish ovoids lay revealed on their steaming warm nest.
They were shapeless and limply alive now, that leather-hard outer
shell rendered soft and rotten by the steady warmth of the heating
vegetation. Masson saw two tiny monsters already free from their
outgrown prisons as the blind men began scooping them up and carrying
them to the empty pen beside the ones already occupied.
The young Butrads set up a throaty, hoarse bellowing that made the cave
vibrate. It was not their feeding time but the excitement had aroused
them and they knew but this one way to express their displeasure.
Masson started to crawl back from the passage's outer lip even as the
two old females started throwing thidin shoots and scraps of raw fish
to the screeching young ones.
And the rotten gray rock betrayed him. A dozen times in the past eight
days he had leaned out over the rim to watch, and a dozen times the
rock had supported his weight. But this time it went scaling away, a
great slab of it, and with it went the Earthman.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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