376 COMMON FISH OF AN INDIAN GARDEN 



floods are abating and that cooler weather is approach- 

 ing ; for, during the height of the monsoon, they seem 

 to abandon the larger streams, probably on account 

 of the violence of the currents then prevailing in 

 them. When they are present, the best time for 

 studying their manners and customs is whilst the 

 tide is ebbing. As the level of the water falls 

 and leaves fringes of damp muddy surfaces along 

 its margins, small grey objects may be seen coming 

 up out of the stream to hop about over the ground 

 or sit in strangely wide-awake fashion on any brick- 

 bats, stumps of wood, edges of steps, or other 

 points of vantage projecting from the mud. No 

 one would at first sight dream of regarding them 

 as fish, for, even when closely examined, they look 

 much more like small, slimy lizards, or gigantic 

 tadpoles in an advanced stage of evolution. What 

 makes them particularly unfishlike is the way in 

 which they use their pectoral fins ; for, whilst sitting 

 still, they bring them well forward and curve the 

 dilated ends down like little webbed feet, on which 

 they rest with their heads and shoulders well raised, 

 and from which they are ready to take off in a 

 great leap on the slightest alarm. As the tide goes 

 on falling, more and more of them emerge, until 

 all the banks are dotted over with quaint little 

 monsters, holding up their bull-dog muzzles and 

 great goggle eyes with an air of grotesque defiance, 

 while every now and then one of them will suddenly 



