himself. And then he saw that what Johnnie had said was true.
"There's a date, too," Johnnie pointed out. And he read it aloud.
"That's more'n thirty years ago," he declared.
But the red-haired boy laughed boisterously.
"Shucks!" he jeered. "Somebody's been playin' a joke on you. Somebody
knew you were lookin' for this old turtle and put your initials and that
old date on him just to puzzle you."
Johnnie Green didn't know exactly what to think. But probably he was no
more upset than was Timothy Turtle, who was not having a good time at
all.
"I don't care if some one did catch this turtle first," Johnnie said at
last. "I'm going to carve my mark on him just the same."
So he began to cut "J. G." in the exact center of the back of Timothy
Turtle, much to that old fellow's rage.
And when Johnnie Green had finished the letters he cut the date below
them.
"What you goin' to do with him now?" Red asked Johnnie then.
"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.
[Illustration: "Let me go!" Fatty Coon shrieked.]
So it was not long before Timothy Turtle's neighbors began to ask him
what was on his back.
"My shell's on my back!" he snapped, when any one put that question to
him.
"Yes--but what's on your shell?" 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 nobody 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 shell. 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 fashion.
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 shell 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.
"Ah!" Peter Mink replied with a shake of his small head. "I'm not going
to tell you, Mr. Turtle. I don't want to hurt your feelings. And if I
were to explain that your back says you're a disagreeable, mean old
scamp, you know you'd be very angry."
Peter Mink jumped out of the way just in time. For Timothy Turtle
wheeled with amazing swiftness and snapped at his tormentor.
"Don't do that!" Peter cried. "_I_ didn't say anything about you, Mr.
Turtle."
"You'd better not," Timothy warned him. "And if Johnnie Green carved
any such words as those on my shell I don't know what to do. I certainly
don't want to carry them about with me for the rest of my life." He
looked unhappy, to say the least. He knew that probably he would live a
great many years longer. And he was puzzled.
"Why don't you get a new shell?" Peter Mink inquired.
"I'd hate to do that," Timothy Turtle told him. "I've had this one a
long time; and it fits me perfectly."
"Then why don't you get the well-known tailor, Mr. Ferdinand Frog, to
make you a coat that will cover your back? If you did that, nobody could
see what's on your shell."
"A good idea!" Timothy Turtle exclaimed. "I'll see Mr. Frog at once. And
some day I'll do something handsome for you, because you've been a
great help to me."
"Why wait?" Peter Mink demanded. "Why don't you do it now?" Knowing that
Timothy was stingy, Peter thought that the old gentleman would soon
change his mind about "doing something handsome" for him.
"No!" Timothy Turtle declared. "I want to wait a while and think it
over."
"Well, then," Peter Mink urged him, "why don't you crawl under that
shelving rock and think it over right now?"
"You ask too many questions," Mr. Turtle told him. "And besides, I must
hurry away and find Ferdinand Frog. I want my new coat as soon as I can
get it. And the longer I stay here, the more time I shall lose." So in
spite of all Peter Mink could say, Timothy slipped into Black Creek and
swam away.
XIX
CAREFUL MR. FROG
Somebody had knocked. And with a wide smile upon his face Mr. Ferdinand
Frog, the tailor, went to his door and peeped out.
One look was enough. He shut the door again with great haste and barred
it. And he held one hand over his heart, as if he had just received a
terrible fright.
"Let me in!" somebody called. The tailor knew that it was Timothy
Turtle's voice, for he had seen that crusty old person standing upon his
doorstep.
"Go away!" Mr. Frog replied. "I'm not here."
He was an odd chap--this Ferdinand Frog. One never could tell what he
was going to do--or say.
"Yes, you are!" Timothy Turtle insisted. "I saw you only a moment ago."
The tailor then peered out of the window at his caller.
"There you are now!" Timothy shouted, as he caught sight of Mr. Frog. "I
say, let me in!"
"I can't," Mr. Frog answered. "I'm sick a-bed."
"Nonsense!" Timothy cried.
"Well, I expect I'll be ill if you don't go away," the tailor answered.
"I'm having a nervous chill this very moment."
He was afraid of Timothy Turtle. And it was no wonder. For Timothy had
tried, more than once to make a meal of the nimble Mr. Frog.
"I haven't come here to hurt you," Timothy Turtle explained, trying to
smile at the face in the window. "I want you to make me a new coat--a
big one that will cover my back all over."
To his great disappointment Mr. Frog shook his head with great force.
"I'm not interested," he announced.
"Do you mean"--Timothy Turtle faltered--"do you mean that you won't make
a coat for me?"
"Exactly!"
"Why?" Timothy pressed him.
"Too busy!" was Mr. Frog's answer.
"Who is?"
"You are!" said Mr. Frog. "Ever since I've known you, you've been trying
to catch me and my friends."
"Why--er--I was only joking," Timothy Turtle told him. "You mustn't mind
my playful ways. Just make me a coat and I'll do something handsome for
you."
It was now the tailor's turn to ask questions.
"What"--he inquired--"what will you do?"
"I couldn't just say at this moment," Timothy replied.
"Why not?"
"Oh, I'd want to think a while," said Timothy Turtle.
"Very well!" was the tailor's answer. "I've no objection, though it's
something I never do myself."
"I wish you'd come outside a moment, since you don't want me inside your
shop," Timothy remarked. "I'd like to whisper to you."
"I'm deaf," Mr. Frog informed him. "I couldn't hear a single word, even
if you were to shout your head off."
"You can hear what I'm saying now well enough," Timothy pointed out.
"I read the lips," said Mr. Frog with a snicker.
That speech made Timothy Turtle start.
"Then if you can read my lips, no doubt you can read what's on my back,"
he said.
"That's easy," the tailor observed. "Your shell's on your back, of
course."
Timothy Turtle glanced up with a look of scorn.
"Don't be silly!" he snapped. "I mean, can you read what's carved on my
shell?"
"Certainly!" Mr. Frog replied. And he began to mutter, as if to himself,
"J. G.--that means _just grumpy_, of course----"
Timothy Turtle interrupted him quickly.
"I don't care to hear any more," he screamed. And turning away, he
waddled towards the water.
"That Ferdinand Frog has no manners," he spluttered. "I only wish he
wasn't quite so spry." And Mr. Turtle looked very fierce as he snapped
his jaws together.
XX
THE ALMANAC
One rainy night Peter Mink stopped at Black Creek; and calling loudly to
Timothy Turtle he asked for a place to sleep.
"You remember," he said, when Timothy drew himself upon the bank, "you
told me that you would do something handsome for me some time. And now
that I'm wet and tired I hope you can offer me a snug, dry spot in which
to spend the night."
"What can you do to pay me?" asked Timothy Turtle. He never did anything
for anybody without pay. "Can you saw wood?"
Now, Peter Mink would rather stay out in the rain forever than saw a
single stick of wood. So he said:
"No, I can't!" just like that.
"Well, it's about time you learned," said Timothy Turtle.
Peter Mink was about to leave in disgust; and he was wondering what name
he would call Timothy Turtle, when he was a little further away, when he
noticed that Timothy had a thin book in his hand.
"What's that?" Peter asked.
"It's the Farmer's Almanac," said Timothy Turtle. "I've been looking
through it; but my eyes are bad and I can't read."
Now that was quite true; for Timothy's eyes _were_ bad--and he had never
learned to read.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," Peter Mink announced. "If you'll give me a
place to spend the night I'll read the Farmer's Almanac to you."
"Come right in!" Timothy Turtle cried, leading the way to a cozy nook
beneath a big rock which was not far from the water. And Peter Mink was
very glad to creep inside that comfortable shelter. He took the Almanac
from Timothy Turtle and they both sat down.
Peter opened the book.
"I see," he said, "that it says the weather was fair to-day, but look
out for a heavy rain to-night!"
Now, Timothy Turtle had not felt quite sure that Peter Mink knew how to
read. But when he heard that he quickly changed his mind.
"That's exactly what's happened!" he exclaimed. And he was greatly
pleased.
But the next moment he noticed that Peter Mink was holding the book
upside down. Timothy could tell that because the picture of the man
ploughing, on the cover, was upside down.
"You can't read!" he cried angrily. "You don't even know how to hold a
book. You've got it bottom side up!"
But Peter Mink only smiled pleasantly at him.
"You don't understand," he said. "That's the way I was taught to read.
Then, if you want to read when standing on your head, you don't need to
turn the book over.... It's the latest method," he explained.
"Oh!" said Timothy Turtle. "That's different!"
"Yes--quite different!" said Peter Mink.
"What does the Almanac say about next week?" Timothy inquired.
"Time to plant corn!" Peter told him.
"That's so!" said Timothy Turtle. "Mr. Crow was telling me this very day
that Farmer Green was ploughing his cornfield; but of course that
doesn't interest me much.... What else does the book say?" Timothy
continued.
"Well, here's some general advice," Peter Mink remarked, as he looked at
the Almanac again. "It says: 'If anybody comes to you and asks for a
place to sleep, give him a bed--but first of all, give him a good
supper.'"
"I don't believe I want to hear any more to-night," said Timothy Turtle
hastily. "It's late; so we'd better go to bed right away."
Peter Mink was somewhat disappointed. He had hoped to get a fish or two
to eat. But there was nothing he could say, though he did wish Timothy
Turtle could take a hint.
"In the morning you can read to me again," Timothy told him.
So they went to bed.
But in the morning the Almanac was nowhere to be found. Timothy Turtle
hunted for it in every place he could think of--except Peter Mink's
pocket.
After Peter had gone, Timothy continued his search. And at last he found
the Almanac beneath the heap of dry leaves which Peter Mink had used for
a bed.
"That's queer!" Timothy Turtle said. "I'm almost sure I looked there
before Peter Mink went away.... My eyes must be growing worse."
The more he thought of the matter, the gladder he was that he hadn't
found the book before. For there was no knowing but that Peter Mink
might have found some advice about giving a good breakfast to a guest
who stayed over night.
Then Timothy Turtle went into Black Creek and caught a fine fish, for he
was hungry. And he enjoyed his meal mightily, because he had it all to
himself.
While he was eating he kept thinking what a disagreeable fellow Peter
Mink was. No doubt he would have been surprised had he known that Peter
Mink was thinking the same thing about _him_, at exactly the same
moment.
XXI
A QUEER WISH
Fishing was one of Timothy Turtle's favorite sports. He was a skillful
fisherman, too. And though it only happened once that he caught more
than one fish at a time, on that occasion he captured seven. This was
the way it happened:
Johnnie Green had come to Black Creek to fish for pickerel. And Timothy
Turtle was much annoyed when he found Johnnie fishing in the pool that
he liked best of all. Timothy thought it was mean of Johnnie Green to
catch _his_ fish, in _his_ creek.
And Timothy's beady eyes glared as he watched Johnnie from a safe
hiding-place under the bank.
He saw that Johnnie Green was a good fisherman. Before he moved on he
caught three big fish from that pool; and one of them--the biggest of
the three--was the very fish on which Timothy Turtle had been expecting
to dine that day.
It was really no wonder that he was annoyed. And when Johnnie went
further up the creek to try his luck elsewhere Timothy Turtle slipped
into the water and followed him.
The more fish he saw Johnnie Green catch, the angrier Timothy grew. And
he went out of his way to tell a number of his neighbors what was
happening.
"Something ought to be done about it!" he complained.
"Why don't you go down and speak to Farmer Green?" Peter Mink
suggested. Peter liked fish, too. And he had often said that Johnnie
had no right to take food away from him, when everybody knew that there
was a plenty at the farmhouse.
Timothy Turtle did not care for Peter's suggestion.
"I've no time to waste talking to Farmer Green," he said. "It seems to
me a letter would be better. Now, if somebody would write a letter, and
get everybody to sign his name to it, and send it down to Farmer Green
by a messenger, I would do my share to help. I would tell the messenger
where to leave the letter so that Farmer Green would be sure to find
it." Timothy then said that he must hurry back to the creek, for he
wanted to see how many fish Johnnie Green took, so the number could be
mentioned in the letter. But before he left Timothy told Peter Mink to
go and find somebody to write the letter. "There's old Mr. Crow,"
Timothy said. "You might ask him. He could use one of his quills for a
pen, you know."
When Timothy Turtle reached the creek once more he found that while he
was talking to Peter Mink, Johnnie Green had moved oh again.
So Timothy started to follow him. But what should he see, lying on the
bank right before him, but a string of seven pickerel! Johnnie Green had
left them there, while he went still further up the creek to catch more.
Timothy Turtle suddenly changed his mind about sending a letter to
Farmer Green. He wished that Johnnie would come there to fish every day.
"He's a kind boy, after all!" said Timothy Turtle to himself. "I never
dreamed that he was catching these fish for me. But here they are,
waiting for me! For Johnnie must have known that I would find them."
Timothy Turtle didn't say anything more. Of course he was only talking
to himself, anyhow. And he seized the string of pickerel and waddled
into the bushes, where he ate every one of those seven fish.
When Peter Mink met Timothy the next day he said he had not yet found
anybody who would write the letter to Farmer Green.
"Mr. Crow told me that if it was anybody but you he might be willing to
pull out one of his quills for a pen," Peter explained. "But he said
that he hoped Johnnie Green would come here every day to fish, until
there are no fish left for you."
Timothy Turtle sniffed.
"You go back," he directed Peter Mink, "and tell Mr. Crow that _I_ hope
Johnnie Green will come here _twice a day_ until he has caught every
fish in Black Creek."
Peter Mink thought that that was a queer thing for Timothy to wish.
Neither he nor old Mr. Crow could understand it.
XXII
THE UNWELCOME GUEST
Ferdinand Frog did not like Timothy Turtle. But he always said he
thought Mr. Turtle could be _trusted_.
"You can _depend_ on him," Mr. Frog often remarked. "Yes, you can depend
on him to grab you if he ever gets a chance."
And all the rest of the musical Frog family agreed with him.
It is not surprising, therefore, that they never invited Timothy Turtle
to attend their singing parties in Cedar Swamp. It made no difference
how much Timothy Turtle hinted. Though he frequently took pains to tell
Ferdinand Frog how fond he was of music, Mr. Frog never once asked him
to come to a concert.
In private Mr. Frog and his friends often spoke of Mr. Turtle--and
giggled. And one of the Frog family even made up a song about Timothy
Turtle, which the whole company loved to chant in Cedar Swamp, safe--as
they thought--from Timothy's snapping jaws.
But one fine summer's evening they had a great surprise. They had
scarcely begun their nightly concert when Timothy Turtle appeared, out
of the water and crawled upon an old stump, right in their midst.
"Good evening!" he cried. "I was just passing on my way home; and
hearing the singing, I thought I'd stop and enjoy it."
For a few moments none of the Frog family said a word. And then
Ferdinand Frog spoke up and asked Mr. Turtle a question:
"Have you had your dinner?"
"No, I haven't," Timothy answered. "But you needn't trouble yourselves
on my account. Go on with your singing. And if I feel faint no doubt I
can find a bite to eat hereabouts."
Now, Mr. Turtle hoped that his speech would put the singers quite at
their ease. But they looked at one another and rolled their eyes as if
to say, "This Timothy Turtle is a dangerous person. Look out for him!"
At the same time they did not wish to appear frightened. And Ferdinand
Frog's mother's uncle even made a short speech, saying that he hoped Mr.
Turtle would enjoy the singing half as much as everybody else enjoyed
his company.
He was about to make some further remark. But no one knew what. For
Timothy Turtle wheeled about to look at the old gentleman. And the
moment Timothy moved, Ferdinand Frog's mother's uncle jumped hastily
into the water from the hummock where he had been sitting, and swam
away.
The rest of the company then sang a song. And their listener said that
he had never heard anything like it.
"I wish you'd sing it again," he said, "with your mouths open and your
eyes shut."
But the musical Frog family objected that they were not used to singing
in that fashion.
"Why don't you keep your own eyes shut?" Ferdinand Frog asked Mr.
Turtle. "Then you wouldn't know whether ours were open or closed."
"Let us _all_ shut our eyes!" Timothy Turtle then suggested. And when
the Frog family began another song, a few of the younger and more
foolish singers followed Mr. Turtle's advice.
So, too, did Mr. Turtle himself--_for a few moments_.
But he soon opened his eyes slyly. And he became very angry when he saw
that most of the singers were watching him.
"You aren't doing as I asked you!" he shouted.
XXIII
A MERRY SONG
Timothy Turtle made such a noise that the Frog family had to stop
singing.
"It's not fair!" he cried. "You're peeping!"
"Well, so are you!" Ferdinand Frog retorted.
"I only opened my eyes to make sure that you were doing as I asked you
to," Mr. Turtle replied with an injured air.
"And we didn't shut ours, because we wanted to watch _you_," said Mr.
Frog.
"Can't you trust me?" Timothy snapped.
"Certainly!" Ferdinand Frog replied.
"Oh, yes! We can trust you!" And he winked at his friends.
"You don't want to hurt my feelings, do you?" Timothy Turtle went on.
"No, indeed!" everybody exclaimed.
And then Ferdinand Frog told Timothy that they would sing a special song
in his honor.
"Fire away!" Timothy ordered them. And the whole company knew, when he
said that, that if he really cared anything at all for singing he never
would have spoken of it in that fashion.
They were just about to begin the song when Timothy Turtle stopped them.
"What's this thing called?" he demanded.
"It's known," Ferdinand Frog explained, "as 'A Merry Song.'"
And then the whole Frog family began to bellow their loudest:
Come let us sing a merry song!
To you it may sound sad.
And if you think it loud and long
_We_ think that it's not bad.
"We'll sing about a grumpy one
Who snaps and bites all day.
And if you call that "having fun"
We make reply, "Go 'way!"
He has a glittering, wicked eye
And also cruel jaws.
And if you ask the reason why,
We'll answer you, _"Because!"_
He'll stretch his neck and grab you quick--
Don't let him come too near!
And if you poke him with a stick
He'll seize that too--oh, dear!