driven by some strange instinct, just like rats or squirrels,
and were going through the woods to the unknown destination that
beckoned them so strongly that they could not but follow.

The most curious and interesting bit of their strange life came out at
night, when they were fascinated by my light. I used sometimes to set
a candle on a piece of board for a float, and place it in the water
close to shore, where the ripples would set it dancing gently. Then I
would place a little screen of bark at the shore end of the float,
and sit down behind it in darkness.

[Illustration: Chigwooltz]

Presently two points of light would begin to shine, then to
scintillate, out among the lily pads, and Chigwooltz would come
stealing in, his eyes growing bigger and brighter with wonder. He
would place his forearms akimbo on the edge of the float, and lift
himself up a bit, like a little old man, and stare steadfastly at the
light. And there he would stay as long as I let him, just staring and
blinking.

Soon two other points of light would come stealing in from the other
side, and another frog would set his elbows on the float and stare
hard across at the first-comer. And then two more shining points, and
two more, till twelve or fifteen frogs were gathered about my beacon,
as thick as they could find elbow room on the float, all staring and
blinking like so many strange water owls come up from the bottom to
debate weighty things, with a little flickering will-o'-the-wisp
nodding grave assent in the midst of them. But never a word was
spoken; the silence was perfect.

Sometimes one, more fascinated or more curious than the others, would
climb onto the float, and put his nose solemnly into the light. Then
there would be a loud sizzle, a jump, and a splash; the candle would
go out, and the wondering circle of frogs scatter to the lily pads
again, all swimming as if in a trance, dipping their heads under water
to wash the light from their bewildered eyes.

They were quite fearless, almost senseless, at such times. I would
stretch out my hand from the shadow, pick up an unresisting frog that
threatened too soon to climb onto the float, and examine him at
leisure. But Chigwooltz is wedded to his idols; the moment I released
him he would go, fast as his legs could carry him, to put his elbows
on the float and stare at the light again.

Among the frogs, and especially among the toads, as among most wild
animals, certain individuals