f respiration is to open his mouth and fill it
with water, and then to close it again and force the water out through
his gills, between his cheeks and his shoulders, about where his neck
would be if he had one. It's very simple when you once know how, but you
can't do it with your gill-covers clamped down. His tail wiggled more
pathetically than ever, and did its level best to pull him out, but
without success. He was wedged in so tightly that he couldn't move, and
he was fast smothering, like a baby that has rolled over on its face
upon the pillow. But at the last moment, when his struggles had grown
feebler and feebler until they had almost ceased, something stirred up
the gravel around him and set him free. He never knew what did it.
Perhaps a deer or a bear waded through the stream; or a saw-log may have
grounded for a moment in the shallow; or possibly it was only the
current, for by this time most of the snow had melted, and the little
river was working night and day to carry the water out of the woods. But
whatever it was, he was saved.

He stayed in the gravel nearly a month, but his yolk-sac was gradually
shrinking, and after a time it drew itself up into a little cleft in his
breast and almost disappeared. There was nothing left of it but a little
amber-colored bead, and it could no longer supply food enough for his
growing body. There were times when he felt decidedly hungry. And other
changes had come while he lay and waited in the gravel. The embryonic
fin which had made his tail so like a paddle was gone, the true dorsal
and caudal and anal fins had taken their proper shape, and he looked a
little less like a tadpole and a little more like a fish. He was
stronger than he had been at first, and he was losing his dread of the
sunlight; and so at last he left the gravel-bed, to seek his rightful
place in the world of moving, murmuring waters.

He was rather weak and listless at first, and quite given to resting in
the shallows and back water, and taking things as easily as possible.
But that was to be expected for a time, and he was much better off than
some of the other trout babies. He saw one that had two heads and only
one body, and another with two heads and two bodies joined together at
the tail. Still others there were who had never been strong enough to
straighten their backbones, and who had lain in the egg till the shell
wore thin and let them out head first, which is not at all the proper
way for