“I didn’t know that; I thought they had no business here,” said Whistler. “I’ve always been in the habit of pelting them, just as I would a snake, wherever I found them; and that’s the way all the boys serve them where I live.”
“You ask my father about them when we go home, and see if he doesn’t tell you they are useful,” remarked Clinton, who thought his cousin was not entirely satisfied on this point.
“O, I suppose you are right; only it is something I never heard of before,” replied Whistler.
“I’ve tamed toads, before now, so that they would eat out of my hand,” resumed Clinton.
“You have?”
“Yes; it is easy enough to tame them. If they find you don’t disturb them they’ll come out from their hiding-places, and hop around you, and follow you, especially if you give them something to eat. Did you ever see them eat?”
“No; I never did.”
“Well, you ought to; for it’s a curious sight. When they get within reach of a slug or a fly, they dart their tongue out as quick as lightning, and seize it. The tongue is very long, and red; and it moves so quick that people sometimes think they are spitting fire, when they are only feeding.”
“I’ve heard that toads spit fire,” said Whistler.
“That’s only one of the old prejudices against them,” replied Clinton. “They don’t spit fire any more than I do; but I can tell you of one strange habit that they do indulge in.”