So when the Black Shadows began to creep across the Green Meadows, old Mr. Toad and Tommy turned their backs on the Smiling Pool and started up the Lone Little Path. They were not in a hurry now, as they had been when they came down the Lone Little Path, and they hopped along slowly, stopping to hunt bugs and slugs and worms, for they were very, very hungry. Old Mr. Toad fixed his eyes on a fly which had just lighted on the ground two inches in front of him. He sat perfectly still, but there was a lightning-like flash of something pink from his mouth, and the fly was gone. Mr. Toad smacked his lips. “I don’t see how some people get along with their tongues fastened ’way back in their throats,” he remarked. “The proper place for a tongue to be fastened is the way ours are--by the front end. Then you can shoot it out its whole length and get your meal every time. See that spider over there? If I tried to get any nearer, he’d be gone at the first move. He’s a goner anyway. Watch!” There was that little pink flash again, and, sure enough, the spider had disappeared. Once more old Mr. Toad smacked his lips. “Didn’t I tell you he was a goner?” said he, chuckling over his own joke. Tommy quite agreed with old Mr. Toad. That arrangement of his tongue certainly was most convenient. Any insect he liked to eat that came within two inches of his nose was as good as caught. All he had to do was to shoot out his tongue, which was sticky, and when he drew it back, it brought the bug with it and carried it well down his throat to a comfortable point to swallow. Yes, it certainly was convenient. It took so much time to fill their stomachs that they did not travel far that night. The next day they spent under an old barrel, where they buried themselves in the soft earth by digging holes with their stout hind feet and backing in at the same time until just their noses and eyes showed at the doorways, ready to snap up any foolish bugs or worms who might seek shelter in their hiding-place. It was such a comfortable place that they stayed several days, going out nights to hunt, and returning at daylight. It was while they were there that old Mr. Toad complained that his skin was getting too tight and uncomfortable, and announced that he was going to change it. And he did. It was a pretty tiresome process, and required a lot of wriggling and kicking, but little by little the old skin split in places and Mr. Toad worked it off, getting his hind legs free first, and later his hands, using the latter to pull the last of it from the top of his head over his eyes. And, as fast as he worked it loose, he swallowed it! “Now I feel better,” said he, as with a final gulp he swallowed the last of his old suit. Tommy wasn’t sure that he _looked_ any better, for the new skin looked very much like the old one; but he didn’t say so.