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Read Ebook: The Tale of Timothy Turtle by Bailey Arthur Scott Smith Harry L Illustrator
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Ebook has 500 lines and 30676 words, and 10 pages
"Good!" Mr. Turtle snorted. "I meant to, because I've a grudge against you."
Fatty Coon couldn't think what he meant.
"I've never done a thing to you," he declared.
"Perhaps not!" Timothy Turtle admitted.
"But you stole Mrs. Turtle's eggs--twenty-seven of them--and you can't deny it."
Now, it was true--what Timothy Turtle said. Hidden among the reeds one day, Fatty Coon had watched Mrs. Turtle bury her eggs in the sand, to hatch. And when she had gone he had crept out from his hiding-place, dug up her precious, round, white treasures, and eaten them, every one.
Well, Fatty Coon dropped his head in front of Mr. Turtle. He was somewhat ashamed, and frightened, too. And he did not like to look into Timothy Turtle's blinking eyes. "How did you know?" he asked Mr. Turtle.
"Mrs. Turtle told me," said Timothy, shifting his hold slightly, for a better one.
"How did the old lady know who took her eggs?" Fatty persisted.
"Mr. Crow saw everything that happened--and don't you call my wife an old lady!" Timothy Turtle spluttered.
"You don't, eh?" Timothy Turtle snarled. "Then I'll explain. I meant to have those eggs myself, young man!"
A TIGHT SQUEEZE
Timothy Turtle's remark was most surprising. It almost took Fatty Coon's breath away. And for a moment or two he even forgot the pain in his paw.
"Do you mean to say," he asked, "that you like turtles' eggs!"
"Do I?" said Timothy. "There's no better treat, in my opinion, than a tender young egg, especially if it's well mixed with sand. And, of course, twenty-seven of them are twenty-seven times as good."
But good Mr. Turtle had no notion of freeing his prisoner.
"Not yet!" he snapped. "I'm going to bite you twenty-seven times as long, and twenty-seven times as hard--if I can."
"Butare that had long dist!" Fatty Coon moaned. "I never knew you wanted those eggs yourself."
"Don't do that!" Fatty Coon suddenly cried.
"Don't pull on my leg!" Fatty Coon pleaded. "You'll have me in the water in another moment, and I'll get wet, and my mother won't like it a bit."
But Timothy Turtle paid no heed to Fatty Coon's objections.
"Certainly I'll pull you into the creek," he declared. "I'm going to take you out where the water's deep, and drag you down, down, down to the very bottom. We'll have lots of fun burying ourselves in the mud. And I venture to say that you'll like it so well down there that you'll never want to come up again."
If Fatty Coon was frightened before, now he was terrified almost out of his wits. And he began to claw frantically at Timothy Turtle's head.
Luckily he had three free paws. And of these he made good use. In the shallows near the bank he struggled with all his might and main. And soon the water was churned into a muddy pool.
Fatty never knew exactly how he succeeded in breaking loose from Mr. Turtle. Anyhow, he found himself free at last; and he lost no time in scrambling up the bank to safety.
Afterward Timothy Turtle always complained that Fatty Coon didn't "fight fair."
"He gouges," Timothy would explain. "He'd just as soon stick one of his claws into your eye as not. And I claim that's something no real gentleman will do."
Now, Fatty did not leave Black Creek at once, after his adventure with Timothy Turtle. He paused for a time, to squat on the bank and nurse his injured paw.
While he lingered there he happened to glance up. And whom should he see, sitting motionless in a tree near-by, but that old rascal, Mr. Crow!
"Oh! Naughty, naughty!" Mr. Crow cawed in a mocking voice. "You've been fighting."
"It's all your fault," Fatty growled. "If you'd minded your own affairs Timothy Turtle would never have known anything about those eggs."
"Bless your heart!" old Mr. Crow cried. "Timothy Turtle would have seized you just the same, if you'd never touched his wife's eggs. You don't know him as well as I do."
"Perhaps not!" Fatty Coon replied. "And what's more, I don't want to. I never want to see Timothy Turtle again."
Old Mr. Crow laughed merrily at that speech. But Fatty Coon only turned his back on him.
MR. TURTLE'S MISTAKE
Mr. Crow was in no hurry to leave Black Creek. And after Fatty Coon had limped away the old gentleman still sat in the tree which hung over the water. He hoped that Timothy Turtle would crawl out upon the bank and growl about Fatty.
The old black rascal was not disappointed. Fatty Coon had not been gone long when Timothy Turtle dragged himself out of the creek and stretched himself upon the sand in the warm sunshine.
"How's your eye?" Mr. Crow asked him hoarsely.
Old Mr. Crow chuckled.
"You'll never have another chance to show him the right way," he remarked. "He won't come near this creek, or my name's not--ahem--Mr. Crow."
"What's your first name?" Timothy Turtle inquired, as he stared unpleasantly at the speaker.
"Never mind!" said the other. "Mr. Crow will do, if you want to attract my attention."
Timothy Turtle frowned.
"I don't want to," he retorted. "The fact is, I'd rather be alone. I don't care to have strangers peeping down at me when I'm enjoying a sun-bath."
"But I like to look at you," old Mr. Crow assured him solemnly. "You make me think of somebody I've known for a good many years."
"Ah! An old friend!" Timothy exclaimed.
"And his name?" Timothy Turtle said.
"Mr. Alligator!"
Timothy Turtle grunted.
"Humph!" he said. "I've never heard of him."
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