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 attach themselves strongly to man, drawn doubtless by some unknown but no less strongly felt attraction.  It was so there in the wilderness.  The first morning after our arrival at the birch grove I was down at the shore, preparing a trout for baking in the ashes, when Chigwooltz, of the ear drums, biggest of all the frogs, came from among the lily pads.  He had lost all fear apparently; he swam directly up to me, touching my hands with his nose, and even crawling out to my feet in the greatest curiosity.

After that he took up his abode near the foot of the game path.  I had only to splash the water there with my finger when he would come from beside a green stone, or from under a log or the lily pads—­for he had a dozen hiding places—­and swim up to me to be fed, or petted, or to have his back scratched.

He ate all sorts of things, insects, bread, beef, game and fish, either raw or cooked.  I would attach a bit of meat to a string or straw, and wiggle it before him, to make it seem alive.  The moment he saw it (he had a queer way sometimes of staring hard at a thing without seeing it) he would crouch and creep towards it, nearer and nearer, softly and more softly, like a cat stalking a chipmunk.  Then there would be a red flash and the meat would be gone.  The red flash was his tongue, which is attached at the outer end and folds back in his mouth.  It is, moreover, large and sticky, and he can throw it out and back like lightning.  All you see is the red flash of it, and his game is gone.

One day, to try the effects of nicotine on a new subject, I took a bit of Simmo’s black tobacco and gave it to Chigwooltz.  He ate it thankfully, as he did everything else I gave him.  In a little while he grew uneasy, sitting up and rubbing his belly with his fore paws.  Presently he brought his stomach up into his mouth, turned it inside out to get rid of the tobacco, washed it thoroughly in the lake, swallowed it down again, and was ready for his bread and beef.  A most convenient arrangement that; and also a perfectly unbiased opinion on a much debated subject.