It was very thick at the base and tapering, something like a lizard's, and so powerful that one twist of it could drive its owner through the water like a screw." "Wish I could swim that way!" murmured the Babe, trying to do the movement, as he imagined it, with his legs.
"But though the Little Furry Ones were just built for swimming," continued Uncle Andy, graciously overlooking the interruption, "they were actually afraid of it.

They liked to see their father or their mother dive smoothly down into the clear, goldy-brown water of their front door, and out into that patch of yellow sunlight shimmering on the weedy bottom.

But when invited to follow, they drew back into the corner and pretended to be terribly busy.
"One fine morning, however, to their great delight they were led out by the back door, under the bush, and introduced to the outside world.
How huge and strange it looked to them! For a few minutes they stole about on their absurdly short, sturdy legs, poking their noses into everything, and jumping back startled at the strange smells they encountered; while their parents, lying down nearby, watched them lazily.

At last, beginning to feel more at home in this big, airy world, they fell to romping with each other on the sunny bank, close beside the water.

Presently their parents got up and came over beside them.