lly.

Finally Toby fell into the habit of leaving the basket along with his
gun. When he made a capture he would immediately kill the frog, and toss
him over to where these things lay, if within throwing distance. Then,
when ready to move further on it was his habit to dress those victims he
had gathered meanwhile, after which he allowed himself to be tempted to
proceed "just a little further." That is always the way when
frog-hunting; one may decide that he has really obtained enough for the
time being; but then the conditions may never be as good again; and some
of the spoils can easily be kept over until another day by immersing
them in cold water.

So Toby toiled on, creeping, sliding, crawling, and doing about
everything an active, ambitious hunter might, in pitting his powers
against a wary species of quarry that had only to make one big jump in
order to baffle all his plans.

Finally he knew that the creel would not hold many more of those big
"saddles," and accordingly Toby promised himself that he would surely
stop when he had taken just five, in addition to those already bagged.

Three times he tossed a victim over to the bank, where he could see the
gun and the basket. A fourth fell into his hands after a long steal
through some reeds, and having put an end to the victim's struggles,
Toby turned to throw him to the bank, after which he would look for the
very last frog he meant to take.

He did not throw that defunct jumper, however, although his hand was
drawn back to make the cast. Instead Toby stood there staring, a wrinkle
stealing between his eyes just above his nose, as it always did when the
boy was puzzled.

"Now, what's that m-m-mean?" he grumbled to himself, as he started
post-haste toward the bank. "Mebbe Steve's come out to s-s-see how I'm
doing, and he's j-j-just snuck my b-b-basket away for f-f-fun. There's
the g-g-gun aleanin' 'gainst that tree all right, but where's my
b-b-bully lot of f-f-frogs, I want to know?"

And indeed it was just as Toby said; for the shotgun could be plainly
seen where he had laid it, against the base of a tree-trunk; but the
trout creel filled almost to the lid with the delicious white meat
"saddles" of his many victims had mysteriously vanished!

CHAPTER XIII

THE SECRET OUT

When he presently managed to reach the spot he was aiming for Toby was
pretty much all out of breath. He had been forced to exert himself
considerably in order to get that l