162 OUT OF DOORS. 



sound of the fly's wings. As soon as the insect settled 

 within reach of the tongue (and when the reptile stood 

 on its hind legs it had a marvellous reach) the toad 

 used to raise its head with an oddly knowing air, and 

 looked as eager as a cat which hears a mouse behind 

 the door. It would then scramble hastily towards the 

 fly, when a red streak would be seen to flash from its 

 mouth, a slight slap was heard, and the fly had van- 

 ished. If the insect took alarm, the toad was quite 

 content to wait, and was certain to hunt it down at 

 last. 



It may be here mentioned that the root of the 

 toad's tongue is set on the front of the lower jaw, the 

 point being directed backward, so that when an insect 

 is captured the mere return of the tongue flings it 

 down the throat. A few decided gulps are, however, 

 needful to complete the operation, and the aspect of 

 the toad while engaged in swallowing is most absurd, 

 the elevated eyes being closed, and disappearing en- 

 tirely by the exertion. The dimensions of the insect 

 make no difference in the magnitude of the gulp and 

 the disappearance of the eyes. 



Few persons who have not watched a toad can form 

 any idea of the dexterous manner in which it uses its 

 fore-paws, these apparently clumsy members serving 

 the purpose of hands, and being frequently employed 

 in lieu of those important limbs. If, for example, the 

 toad has snapped up a tolerably long worm, it will 

 probably be incommoded by the natural objection 



