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“But, Uncle Sherlock, how do we know these are tadpoles and not salamanders?”
“Quentin, my boy, have I taught you nothing? Deduce it. Observe. Collect data. Eliminate the superfluous,” said the detective.
“They are in the mud on the edge and have both a tail and legs! It could be either,” complained the boy picking one up deftly along with a bit of the loamy soil of the pond. His shoes, socks and the lower half of his trousers were already done for and now there would possibly be no salvaging his coat and shirt sleeve as well. Not that his uncle's clothes were faring any better.
“Does it have gills?”
The boy peered closely to check. “Can we take some back home?” he asked seemingly offhandedly.
“Do you intend to keep them alive?”
“Yes, Uncle Sherlock.”
“In mud and water?”
The nephew tried hard to suppress his grin as he nodded.
“Of course you can take some,” replied the uncle with no compunction to hide his own grin.