The Tale Of Timothy Turtle Part 8

"Turn him loose!" Johnnie replied.

"Aw--don't do that! Lemme have him!" Red coaxed.

Johnnie Green said that he was sorry--but he intended to set his captive free, just as he had planned.

He soon found that turning Mr. Turtle loose was no easy matter. Strange to say, Timothy Turtle did nothing to help. On the contrary, he made the task as hard as he could for Johnnie Green, trying his best to bite that young man.

In the end Johnnie had to cut the rope that held Timothy's head. And when that furious old fellow at last found himself in Black Creek once more he still wore a noose of rope, like a collar, around his neck.

When Johnnie Green told his father about his adventure with Timothy Turtle, he had a great surprise. Farmer Green said that when he was just about Johnnie's age he had cut _his_ initials on a turtle, down by the creek.

Now, since Johnnie was named for his father, their initials had to be alike. So the J. G.--and the old date--that Johnnie had found must have been carved by Farmer Green when he was a youngster.

Somehow, Johnnie found it very hard to imagine that his father had ever been a boy like himself and had spent his time playing near the creek, and carving his initials on the back of a turtle.

"How old do you suppose that turtle is?" he asked his father.

"Oh, he must be a regular old settler," Farmer Green declared. "He may have been around here when your grandfather was a boy, for all I know."

"Do you really believe that?" Johnnie exclaimed.

"Well," his father answered, "there's only one way to find out."

"What's that?" Johnnie inquired eagerly.

"Ask Mr. Turtle himself," Farmer Green replied with a smile.

XVII

TIMOTHY NEEDS HELP

Everybody who lived near Black Creek noticed Timothy Turtle's new collar. And almost every one, being curious, asked Mr. Turtle where he got it, and why he was wearing it.

Now, Timothy Turtle would give such folk no answer at all. But old Mr.

Crow knew what had happened--of course. And he took pains to tell all his friends how Johnnie Green had caught Timothy and tied a rope around his neck, and cut something on Timothy's back, besides.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Let me go!" Fatty c.o.o.n shrieked.]

So it was not long before Timothy Turtle's neighbors began to ask him what was on his back.

"My sh.e.l.l's on my back!" he snapped, when any one put that question to him.

"Yes--but what's on your sh.e.l.l?" everybody was sure to answer back.

Timothy Turtle couldn't have replied to that question, even if he had wanted to. And though he always sneered when hearing it and turned his head away, as if the matter was something he didn't care to talk about, there was n.o.body who was any more eager to know the answer than he.

To be sure, by raising his head he could get a slanting view of the top of his sh.e.l.l. But such a glimpse was not enough to tell him anything.

Under the constant inquiries of his neighbors Timothy's curiosity grew every day. Soon he took to staring at his reflection in the surface of the water, with the hope that he might be able to see his back in that way.

But it was all in vain. Though Timothy twisted and turned and stretched his long neck, he couldn't see his own back, no matter how much he tried.

Now, there was an ill-mannered scamp named Peter Mink who happened to go prowling up the creek one day. And as he quietly rounded a bend he came upon an odd sight.

In front of him, and perched on a rock in the midst of the water, Timothy Turtle was going through the queerest motions. He seemed to be peering into the water at something, while wriggling about in a most peculiar fas.h.i.+on.

He did not notice Peter Mink, who stood stock still and watched him for some time without speaking.

At last Peter's prying ways got the better of him. He simply had to say something.

"What on earth are you doing!" he called to Timothy.

Mr. Turtle gave a great start.

"I'm looking at myself--that's all," he said. He was so surprised that for once he actually answered a question politely.

His reply amused Peter Mink. And that ill-bred rascal laughed right in Timothy Turtle's face.

"Time must hang heavy on your hands, if you can't find anything pleasanter to do than that," he remarked--for Peter Mink never cared how rude he was. In fact he liked to make unkind remarks. "Aren't you afraid," he added, "that you'll wear out the surface of the creek, gazing into it? I shouldn't like that very well," said Peter Mink, "because then it couldn't freeze in winter, and you know it's great sport to hunt muskrats under the ice."

Well, Peter's speech alarmed Timothy Turtle. And yet he felt that he could not rest until he knew what was on his back. So he asked Peter Mink to meet him on the bank.

"I want you to help me," he said. "I have reason to believe that there's something written on my back. And you must tell me what it is."

XVIII

PETER MINK'S PLAN

Now Peter Mink had never learned to read. In the first place, he had never had a chance to learn. And in the second, he was such a good-for-nothing rascal that he wouldn't have gone to school anyhow.

But he did not tell all this to Timothy Turtle. When he stepped behind Timothy and gazed at his back, Peter Mink thought of a fine way to tease the old fellow.

Of course, he had not the slightest idea what those marks on Mr.

Turtle's sh.e.l.l meant. But he looked down at them with a wise smile.

Mr. Turtle, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye, saw that smile; and he did not like it in the least. In fact, it made him feel quite peevish.

"Well, what do you see?" he asked Peter Mink impatiently.