“You can, but it is not much use: you only get along so slowly. When you can swim properly, you can copy Pan in a minute.”
The governor could not go with them again for two days on account of business; but full of their swimming, they looked in the old bookcase, and found a book in which there were instructions, and among other things they read that the frog was the best model. Out they ran to look for a frog; but as it was sunny there were none visible, till Mark remembered there was generally one where the ivy of the garden wall had spread over the ground in the corner.
In that cool place they found one, and Bevis picked it up. The frog was cold to the touch even in the summer day, so they put it on a cabbage-leaf and carried it to the stone trough in the yard. No sooner did it feel the water than the frog struck out and crossed the trough, first in one direction, and then in another, afterwards swimming all round close to the sides, but unable to land, as the stone was to it like a wall.
“He kicks,” said Mark, leaning over the trough; “he only kicks; he doesn’t use his arms.”
The frog laid out well with his legs, but kept his forelegs, or arms, still, or nearly so.
“Now, what’s the good of a frog?” said Bevis; “men don’t swim like that.”
“It’s very stupid,” said Mark; “he’s no model at all.”
“Not a bit.”
The frog continued to go round the trough much more slowly.
“No use watching him.”