134 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



poles, and an intolerant pollywog offers worthy 

 research for the naturalist. Straining their me- 

 dium of its opacity, I drew off the clayey liquid 

 and replaced it with the clearer brown, wallaba- 

 stained water of the Mazaruni ; and thereafter all 

 their doings, all their intimacies, were at my 

 mercy. I felt as must have felt the first aviator 

 who flew unheralded over an oriental city, with 

 its patios and house-roofs spread naked beneath 

 him. 



It was on one of the early days of observation 

 that an astounding thought came to me — before 

 I had lost perspective in intensive watching, be- 

 fore familiarity had assuaged some of the mar- 

 vel of these super-tadpoles. Most of those in my 

 jar were of a like size, just short of an inch; but 

 one was much larger, and correspondingly gor- 

 geous in color and graceful in movement. As 

 she swept slowly past my line of vision, she turned 

 and looked, first at me, then up at the limits of 

 her world, with a slow deliberateness and a hint 

 of expression which struck deep into my memory. 

 Green came to mind, — something clad in a smock 

 of emerald, with a waistcoat of mother-of-pearl, 

 and great sprawling arms, — and I found myself 

 thinking of Gawain, our mystery frog of a year 



