20 THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



but what it would be impossible to foresee is the strange 

 finale of the wedding. Behold the father, in this case a 

 real paterfamilias, in the noblest sense of the word, 

 coming out of his retreat one day in an unrecognizable 

 state. He is carrying the future, tight-packed around 

 his hind-legs ; he is changing houses laden with a cluster 

 of eggs the size of peppercorns. His calves are girt, his 

 thighs are sheathed with the bulky burden ; and it covers 

 his back like a beggar's wallet, completely deforming him. 



Whither is he going, dragging himself along, incapable 

 of jumping, thanks to the weight of his load? He is 

 going, the fond parent, where the mother refuses to go; 

 he is on his way to the nearest pond, whose warm waters 

 are indispensable to the tadpoles' hatching and existence. 

 When the eggs are nicely ripened around his legs under 

 the humid shelter of a stone, he braves the damp and the 

 daylight, he the passionate lover of dry land and dark- 

 ness; he advances by short stages, his lungs congested 

 with fatigue. The pond is far away, perhaps ; no matter : 

 the plucky pilgrim will find it. 



He's there. Without delay, he dives, despite his pro- 

 found antipathy to bathing; and the cluster of eggs is 

 instantly removed*by the legs rubbing against each other. 

 The eggs are now in their element; and the rest will be 

 accomplished of itself. Having fulfilled his obligation to 

 go right under, the father hastens to return to his well- 

 sheltered home. He is scarcely out of sight before the 

 little black tadpoles are hatched and playing about. They 

 were but waiting for the contact of the water in order to 

 burst their shells. 



