"I shall have to find him," he muttered to himself.
He stumbled on the Salamander. The Salamander, after working for an hour, had partially concealed himself. His smiling face alone was visible, framed by the grass-stems.
"Have—you—seen—the—French—Frog?" said the Natterjack, as loudly and as plainly as he could.
"Fetch him," thundered the King Toad. The Natterjack Fled Headlong
The Salamander turned his face away and smiled across his shoulder.
"Have—you—seen—the—French—Frog?" the Natterjack repeated.
The Salamander's face came slowly round again, still smiling. It was too much; no longer could the Natterjack contain himself. He ducked his head and pranced, his legs flung round him anyhow.
So for a mad five minutes; at last he got his answer, suave tones across the intervening grass: "Have I seen what?"
The Natterjack plunged straight into the pond. His nerves were over-wrought, his heart was racing. But for this cooling dive he must have burst. He rose among the lily leaves, and, clutching one, hung slantwise. Slowly the madness left him.