Chatterbox, 1906 Part 84

'It is a new franc that a good lady gave her. She should have brought it to me!' screamed the woman. Then catching sight of the glitter of silver in the sailor's hand, she cried in altered tones, 'but, Monsieur, you see she is but a child, and though I must not let her lose things---- '

'I didn't lose it--it was stolen,' sobbed the child.

'Well, here's your franc,' said Jack, interrupting some exclamation which the woman was about to make. 'Now let the child alone.'

He was slipping some coins into the hands of the children also, when a cry from Estelle made him turn hastily.

(_Continued on page 274._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'How much has the child lost?' he asked."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Come along with me,' whispered Thomas."]

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 271._)

Interested in the miserable children, Estelle had moved a little away from the rest of the party. She wanted to speak to the brave little boy, and to give him some bonbons for himself and his sister. The little bag was in her hand, when she saw a dingy curtain on her left pushed aside.

A face looked out at her. In a moment her dream came back: there were the curtains, wrinkled and dingy. Between them peered the face of the man after whom the mastiffs had rushed--the face of Thomas! He grinned in recognition of her; he nodded, and, thrusting open the curtains, came out into full view. Estelle's eyes opened wide with terror. There was something in the man's expression which appalled her. Greed; an eagerness he could not conceal; a cunning smile which was made more terrible by a stealthy movement towards her. For a moment Estelle was paralysed. Jack's back was turned; his attention taken up by the scene he had witnessed. Julien Matou stood with his hands in his pockets, watching it too. Mrs. Wright had gone on; she wished Jack had not brought them this way, but, since he had, there was nothing for it but to hurry out of it as quickly as possible. For the time Estelle was alone. Thomas was nearer to her than any of her friends, and she was incapable of even crying out for help.

'You here, my little lady?' whispered Thomas, stretching out his hand.

'Come along with me. I will save you.'

Though she shrank back, she yet managed to summon up courage enough to push his hand away.

Thomas had no time to lose. Estelle must be seized, and he had hopes that those behind him would back him up. Fargis would not dare to refuse, he argued. Had he not come to this outlandish place on purpose to get employment from him? The skipper had proved to be very unwilling, and they had come to no terms. Now, however, there were golden reasons for gaining his consent to anything. Once in possession of Estelle, he could make his own bargain with Lord Lynwood. How high his hopes had been when he and the Dutchman had carried off the orchid! The Frenchman had failed them, but they had managed to get it by boat to the nearest port, and, unsuspected by the police authorities, had reached Holland safely with the unique plant. He had been 'done' over that business, had received but half what he expected. Was it his fault that the paper did not mention where the plant was discovered? The orchid itself was of immense value, and the sum paid to Thomas, for his share in its capture, was by no means a despicable one. Like most ill-gotten gains, however, it had not remained long in his pocket. Driven by necessity, unable to return to his own country, and not knowing where else to turn, he determined to go to Tout-Pet.i.t, and seek a.s.sistance from Fargis, as his ally had once advised.

He had no money left to pay his way there, but accidentally hearing that a caravan, consisting of a circus, mountebanks, and the usual paraphernalia of a fair, was about to start for Tout-Pet.i.t, and that a strong man was wanted in the circus troupe, he offered his services, and was accepted.

But times had changed since the Dutchman, Thomas's former fellow-conspirator, had known Fargis. The past had been effectually buried, Fargis hoped; the last spark of it was the help his smack was intended to give in the conveying away of the orchid. Thomas's many delays in securing the plant had frustrated this plan, but Fargis had done his best. He considered all indebtedness wiped out henceforward. He received Thomas ungraciously, therefore, and beyond a vague promise that he would speak to some other skippers, Thomas had no satisfaction from his visit. Gloomy, and not a little resentful--for he had come far on what he considered his friend's misrepresentation--he wandered aimlessly towards the Fontaine des Eaux. Too busy all day to get away, it was only when the afternoon was far advanced that he managed to go down to see Fargis. The dancing had, therefore, begun before he reached the valley.

Strolling up towards the booths, he watched the dancers with a sort of inward anger because people could be so happy when he was so wretched.

All at once he caught sight of the group in the shed. His first indifferent glance changed into a look of astonishment. He had not heard of the loss of Estelle, never having dared to write home to his broken-hearted mother. He stood staring, puzzled to behold Lord Lynwood's daughter among all these peasants.

How did she get there? Who were her companions? Why had she been sent from home? His brain worked over the riddle as he lingered under the shadow of the trees and gazed at the well-known face of the child. He found it a hard nut to crack. Suddenly his Dutch friend's question in the cave, just before their rush to save the box with the orchid, recurred to his memory: 'Is not the Earl's daughter an heiress?'

She has been stolen, then! For a moment Thomas was 'struck all of a heap,' as he would have expressed it. He was blinded by the flash that seemed to reveal to him what had happened.

Creeping up closer, he listened to what the group of strangers around the little girl were talking about. To formulate any plans on the spur of the moment, even to take in what this amazing discovery might mean to him in his fallen fortunes, was beyond the power of Thomas's slowly working brain. He must have time to think. He must find out how the land lay. And meanwhile, it would not be wasting precious time if he set himself to find out who were Estelle's protectors; where they lived; what facilities their abode offered for approaching the child; and how he could bring the brilliant but hazy notions now throbbing through his head into something more than mere dreams. His only clear ideas at present were, that the Lady Estelle de Bohun was certainly a great heiress; that the Earl would pay any price, probably, to get her back; and that he, Thomas, must be the important medium through whom this good fortune must be brought about. Thomas, too, would be sure that well-lined pockets did not fail him this time. He had had his lesson in sharpness.

Beyond this point he had not had time to go. Nothing turned up next day to help him, till the early stragglers appeared at the fair in the morning. He was on the alert. He looked and found faces he had seen on the previous night. He managed to get up a talk with one and another, during which it was easy to learn a good deal on the subject of the little waif. Before he saw Estelle again, he found that she lived in the Caves of the Hospice de la Providence; he discovered that Jack was a fisherman, and was often away in the boats, sometimes for several nights together. At such times no one remained on guard except the old woman--by which term he meant Mrs. Wright. He also found out that Estelle had not been stolen. He heard the story of her loss of memory concerning certain vital points, and of the doctor's prophecy that some little thing would, without doubt, reveal the missing link, and restore her powers of recollection. This he was rather sorry to hear. It would have been better if she had remained ignorant till he had made his own terms with her father. However, she was but a child, and could be suppressed. He could see to that.

He saw clearly that the most difficult obstacle to the whole of his somewhat indefinite scheme would be M. le Geant (Mr. Giant), as the villagers smilingly called Jack. The giant was not a giant to no purpose. He would show fight. There was absolutely no doubt about that.

He must, therefore, be away whenever it suited Thomas to act. But--and Thomas thought a great deal over that _but_--would it be possible to come to some sort of terms with Jack? They might share and share alike.

Thomas was quite willing to do that, provided the sum agreed upon was large enough. If he refused, and if Estelle were unable to give an account of herself--that is, if the little something did not occur which should a.s.sist her memory--Thomas considered his course clear. Neither her name nor her belongings would be revealed. Jack could not take any steps towards restoring her to her family if he did not know where her home was. Thomas preferred to manage the whole business single-handed.

The orchid had been a lesson to him against trusting any one with his secrets. He had come off second-best. Another time it might go even worse with him. No, he would be his own master in this matter.

Careful as his watch was on the crowds surging through the long street of booths that day, he had missed Jack and his party. The tears of the dancing girl, and the loud voice of the woman, he scarcely noticed till they ceased suddenly. The silence aroused his curiosity as the noise had not done. Peeping through the curtains, he saw to his delight and amazement that the child he so longed to seize was standing close by, alone and unprotected.

The golden egg lay ready to his hand. He would be a fool not to take it.

His eye wandered for one doubtful second to the broad back of the stalwart sailor. Could he manage it before that giant turned round? It was worth trying. Oh, if he could only get hold of her without her screaming! Possession was nine points of the law!

(_Continued on page 286._)

PEEPS INTO NATURE'S NURSERIES.

IX.--SOME FROG NURSERIES.

We do not generally expect such apparently dull and stupid creatures as fish and frogs to have any very deep parental feelings, yet we shall see presently that, among the fishes, some are most exemplary parents. And so it is, also, among the much-despised frogs and toads, and some of their near relatives. Indeed, I should have to write a very long chapter if I were to set myself to relate at length every case that is known of this kind. It must suffice to take a few of the more striking instances.

But, before I begin, let me ask you to try and recall some of the main facts with regard to the care for the young displayed by the common frog. This animal, you will remember, formed the subject of the first article in this series, wherein it was pointed out that the eggs were laid in huge ma.s.ses and left to hatch. Beyond seeking out a suitable place for the eggs, no further trouble is taken by the frog, and it is on this account that so many hundreds have to be laid. There must be enough to be eaten by prowling ducks, and enough to hatch into tadpoles, of which, again, there must be enough to be eaten by hungry animals of all sorts, and enough to grow safely into frogs.

This waste of life is, however, avoided when the parents take charge of their eggs, and, in consequence, there is no need to provide so many.

Let us begin with an example or two of nest-building frogs. One of the simplest of these nests is that of a South American frog known as the Ferreiro, or 'Smith,' from the remarkable call which it makes during the spring--a call resembling the sounds made on a smith's anvil. Its nest is made by the little mother of the family alone, who, from the bottom of some shallow pool, scoops out a little basin, using the displaced mud to form a wall or rampart, some four inches high, round the pit, and employing her hands to smooth the inside of the wall, much as a mason uses a trowel. After the nest is ready, she lays therein a few eggs, and then retires with her mate to some secluded spot to watch over her treasures!

Another little group of South American frogs--the 'Phyllomedusa'

frogs--lay their eggs to the number of about a hundred, in 'pockets'

formed by bringing the edges of a leaf together. Into this 'pocket' the eggs are dropped by the mother; the jelly-like coat with which the eggs are covered serves to hold the pocket together.

Some frogs build 'foam' nests. Thus, a little frog that lives in the West Indies glues her eggs on to a broad leaf, and covers them in a ma.s.s of foam. Similarly, the 'banana-frog' of Malacca lays its eggs in a leaf, and surrounds them with a ma.s.s of yellow froth (which afterwards becomes steel-grey) as large as a cricket-ball. Herein the eggs develop, until at last the tadpoles emerge and drop into the water below, as in the case of the other frogs who attach their eggs to leaves. A j.a.panese frog, closely related to the species just described, lays its eggs in a hole in the ground, and then covers them with a ma.s.s of froth and air-bubbles formed by working up a sticky slime with its feet until this ma.s.s, too, is as large as a cricket-ball!

But many frogs carry their eggs about them. The South American Goeldi's frog carries its eggs on its back, the skin of which on each side is raised up to form a wall holding the eggs in position. A near relative of this species--the pouched frog--has carried this device further, so that the walls meet each other above the eggs, and form a most wonderful pouch. Until lately, it seemed impossible to account for the presence of the eggs in such a strange place, but it is now known that they are placed there by the frog-mother's mate.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Surinam Toad, with its young ones in "pockets" on its back.]

In another case--that of a kind of toad which is common on some parts of the Continent--the father of the family winds the eggs in 'chains'

around his hind legs, and sits with them, during the heat of the day, in some shady place, emerging with the shade of evening to bathe his growing brood in dew.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pouched Frog: the eggs are carried in a chamber on the back.]

A little frog met with in the Seych.e.l.les carries its little ones about on its back, much as a duck will carry its ducklings. But the curious Surinam toad of South America has improved on this arrangement, and lodges each little one in a little pocket in the skin of her back!

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Seych.e.l.les Frog, which carries its tadpoles on its back.]

Lastly, and strangest of all, we have a species--again a native of South America--in which the father carries first the eggs, and then the young tadpoles, in a pouch in his throat! This pouch, in the early part of the year, serves as a voice-organ, or, rather, as a musical organ, for when filled with air it is capable of making a sound which has been likened to that of a little bell. Later, he places the eggs therein, and, as these grow, the pouch increases in size, finally extending down each side of the body, beneath the skin, as far as the hind legs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Obstetric Frog, which carries its eggs twisted round the hind legs.]

W. P. PYCRAFT, F.Z.S., A.L.S.