enty feet in
height, and from its throat sounded the terrific bellowing which
rivalled the thunder.

Maget bravely stepped forward, and began to fire into the huge, soft
body. The great mouth opened, and as the dum-dum bullets tore gashes
in the blackish green batrachian, the thunderous croaks took on a note
of pain.

The odor of the creature was horrible. Maget could scarcely draw his
breath as he fired the contents of the magazine into the big animal.
Two more jumps brought the frog almost to Maget's feet, and the
tropical tramp felt a whiskerlike tentacle touch his face, and bad
smelling slime covered him.

The frog was blind, without doubt, from its underground life, but the
tentacles seemed to be the way it finally located its prey, for it
turned on Maget and made a final snap at him. The great jaws closed
like the flap of hell, and Maget leaped back with a cry of triumphant
terror.

* * * * *

The bullets had finally stopped the big frog, but at its heels came a
strange, jellylike creature, not quite as bulky as the frog, but
pushing along on its legs and with a tail some eight feet thick and
fifteen feet in length. This, too, evidently a polywog, was blind,
with whitened discs for eyes, but it slid along at a rapid rate
because of its size. Maget's gun was empty; he turned so flee, but the
polywog stopped and sniffed at the thick blood of its fellow. Then, to
Maget's relief, it began to hungrily devour its companion.

Utterly filthy, and ferocious, the polywog in silence snapped great
chunks from the dead giant frog.

"Hello. Who are you?"

Maget turned, having forgotten the amenities of life in the
excitement. Professor Gurlone and his son, still clad in their black
suits, but with their helmets off, were standing beside him, clutching
their guns and lights.

The big Portuguese, Espinosa, appeared, and Durkin was beside him.

"Why," said Maget, between gasps, "we just happened to be out
exploring, and we saw your camp. We were on our way in when we heard
the noises and came to investigate."

"I see," said old Gurlone. "What made you head in this direction, and
where's your outfit?"

"Oh, we cached most of it back there," said Maget. "My partner's hurt
his foot, so he can't walk well. Isn't that so, Durkin?"

"Yeh," growled Durkin. "I got a sore foot, all right."

* * * * *

Old Gurlone was suspicious of the vague story which Maget