Part 25 (1/2)
Dexter began his description in a bright, animated way, full of gesticulation; but as he went on the expression in his companion's face seemed to chill him. He did not understand what it meant, only he felt that he was doing or saying something which was distasteful; and he gradually trailed off, and stood staring with his narrative unfinished, and the frog in his hand.
”Could you do that now, Dexter!” said Helen suddenly.
”Do it?” he faltered.
”Yes; with the frog.”
”I haven't got a bit of flat wood, and I have no stick, and if I had-- I--you--I--”
He stopped short, with his head on one side, and his brows puckered up, gazing into Helen's eyes. Then he looked down, at the frog, and back at Helen.
”You don't mean it?” he said sharply. ”You don't want me to? I know: you mean it would hurt the frog.”
”Would it hurt you, Dexter, if somebody put you on one end of a plank, and then struck the other end!”
The boy took off his cap and scratched his head with his little finger, the others being closed round the frog, which was turned upside down.
”The boys always used to do it up at the House,” he said apologetically.
”Why!” said Helen gravely.
”Because it was such fun; but they always made them hop well first.
They'd begin by taking great long jumps, and then, as the boys hunted them, the jumps would get shorter and shorter, and they'd be so tired that it was easy to make them sit still on the piece of wood.”
”And when they had struck the wood, and driven it into the air, what did they do to the poor thing then?”
”Sent it up again.”
”And then?”
”Oh, they caught it--some of the boys did--caught it like a ball.”
”Have you ever done so?”
Dexter shuffled about from foot to foot, and looked at the prospect, then at the frog, and then slowly up at the clear, searching eyes watching him.
”Yes,” he said, with a sigh; ”lots of times.”
”And was it to save the poor thing from being hurt by the fall on the hard ground!”
Dexter tried hard to tell a lie, but somehow he could not.
”No,” he said slowly. ”It was to put it back on the stick, so as the other boys could not catch it first.”
”What was done then!”
Dexter was silent, and he seemed to be taking a wonderful deal of interest in the frog, which was panting hard in his hot hand, with only its comical face peeping out between his finger and thumb, the bright golden irised eyes seeming to stare into his, and the loose skin of its throat quivering.
”Well, Dexter, why don't you tell me!”