The Horrible Toad

HIS RETURN 627

Even the toads, turned poets by the vernal warmth, were now trilling their love-songs in the puddles below the spring. Mourning doves cooed in the willows; valley quails whistled from the labryinthine copses that fringed the trees; and a redshafted flicker rasped his loud "if-if-if-if" from the trunk of a tall cottonwood. After completing his camp, Frank idled an hour or more fishing indifferently in the pond and listening to the flutings of dozens of redwings. He pondered deeply over Mary and determined that he himself should show a total lack of interest in her before she could convey any disagreeable news. During the ensuing night he was awakened by a long, quavering demoniacal laugh, which suggested a couple of screaming cougars. It was the most uncanny sound he had ever heard in the woods; and though unafraid he did lie awake listening intently for a closer approach of the weird noise. How any sane person could emit such fiendish laughter he could not comprehend; and if it were a crazy, midnight roamer he had the better reason to await the outcome with readiness. However, the half scream, half laugh, harrowed the still darkness but once more, though it left a mystery which Frank felt must be explained. The following day, as he was basking on an improvised raft, he noticed, through a chink of the foliage, that a man was approaching. Bringing his field glasses to his eyes he quickly discerned the manly form and characteristic walk of Maurice Hoover. He lounged back on the raft as if asleep, but a thousand thoughts were shooting through his mind as he attempted to decide on a plan of greeting. He had little time to ponder, however, as the smouldering campfire led Maurice straight to the spot. "Hello, Frank," Maurice shouted eagerly as he reached the embankment. "Hello, Maurice,'" answered Frank with noticeably less gusto, as he arose and poled his way slowly toward shore. They shook hands with every appearance of cordiality on Frank's part, though with all of effusiveness with Maurice. "Dear me, I'm glad to see you," said Maurice, as he sat on a log. "As soon as I heard you were back in town I called at your home, and your mother said you had come out here. What is the idea,anyhow? And every one is anxious to see you." "Oh, I had a deucedly hard trip back, and I always liked this pond —I wanted to rest a bit, I suppose, and here I am," answered Frank slowly, as if weighing his words. "How long do you expect to stay?" — "I don't know perhaps a week. Some maniac was screaming and laughing around this pond last night, and I would like