never more so than at meal-times. They were unfailing in their attendance when we dined or supped in the open air.
Towards evening, as we sat in the verandah listening to Fritz's account of his trip round the Cape, an extraordinary hollow roaring noise sounded from the swamp, not unlike the angry bellowing of a bull.
The dogs barked, and the family rose in excitement; but I remarked a look of quiet humour in Fritz's eye, as he stood leaning against one of the verandah pillars, watching Jack, who, in some confusion, started off towards the marsh.
“Come back, you silly boy!” cried his mother; “the child has not so much as a pistol, and is rushing off alone to face he knows not what!”
“Perhaps,” said I, looking at Fritz, “this is not a case requiring the use of fire-arms. It may be only the booming of a bittern which we hear.”
“You need not be uneasy, mother,” said Fritz; “Jack knows what he is about, only this charming serenade took him by surprise, and I fancy he will have to exhibit his treasures before they reach perfection. Yes, here he comes!”
Lugging his “moist secret” along with him, Jack, flushed and breathless, came up to us, exclaiming:—
“They were to grow as big as rabbits before you saw them. Such a shame! I never thought they would kick up a row like that. Now for it!”—and he turned out the bag. “This is ‘Grace,’ and this is ‘Beauty.’ ”
Two immense frogs rolled clumsily on the ground, and recovering their feet, sat squat before us, swelling and puffing with a ludicrous air of insulted dignity, while peals of laughter greeted them on all sides.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, these are two very handsome young specimens of the famous African bull-frog,” said Jack, pretending to be offended at the mingled disgust and amusement occasioned
