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158 Then it seems as if he gets tired of playing fish, and thinks it would be still nicer to get up on land and hop about. Maybe he thinks about flying, too. Goodness only knows what goes on inside the heads of "little tads." They change their minds and their bodies so often, and so surprisingly, they keep you guessing. Now the tadpole seems to be thinking most about hopping. He starts to grow two pair of legs. After the legs first come he has "lots of fun" with them, kicking himself through the water as a boy swims. Yet he still uses his tail in swimming, as if he hadn't quite given up the idea of being a fish.

Finally away goes his tail! And in the strangest way. For when he's about two months old, he begins to eat a great deal less and just hangs around in the water—not swimming as much as he did, but just keeping still—thinking and thinking. His tail keeps growing smaller and smaller—shorter and shorter. He absorbs it into his body until finally he hasn't any tail at all. No wonder he didn't eat much else—he's been living on his tail!

And now he isn't a fish any more at all—he's a frog. There He goes, hopping about on the shore, very lively and very happy. He keeps close to his old home in the water though, and every now and then plumps back into it; as if he wanted to keep up an acquaintance with his water friends.

Or, perhaps, he goes back to look for his lost tail!

I wonder if the kitten remembers when he was a tadpole. He seems to be wondering about his tail, anyhow. See how he keeps chasing it around and around. He doesn't know as much about tadpole tails as we do—does he?