The first
frog had jumped once for the fly and missed it, when the other leaped
upon him savagely, and a fight began, while the ibis lay neglected on
a lily pad. They pawed and bit each other fiercely for several
minutes; then the second frog, a little smaller than the other, got
the grip he wanted and held it. He clasped his fore legs tight about
his rival's neck and began to strangle him slowly. I knew well how
strong Chigwooltz is in his forearms, and that his fightings and
wrestlings are desperate affairs; but I did not know till then how
savage he can be. He had gripped from behind by a clever dive, so as
to use his weight when the right moment came. Tighter and tighter he
hugged; the big frog's eyes seemed bursting from his head, and his
mouth was forced slowly open. Then his savage opponent lunged upon him
with his weight, and forced his head under water to finish him.
The whole thing seemed scarcely more startling to the luckless big
frog than to the watcher in the canoe. It was all so brutal, so
deliberately planned! The smaller frog, knowing that he was no match
for the other in strength, had waited cunningly till he was all
absorbed in the red fly, and then stole upon him, intending to finish
him first and the little red thing afterwards.
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