Chapter 3

"There!" Johnnie Green cried when they had Timothy Turtle where they wanted him. "That's the way the Redskins do with their enemies."

And his friend the red-haired boy danced something that might have been an Indian war dance.

Anyhow, neither old Mr. Crow nor Timothy Turtle had ever seen anything like it.

XVI

JOHNNIE GREEN'S INITIALS

Timothy Turtle found himself in a very uncomfortable position, staked out as he was on the bank of Black Creek, with one rope about his body and another about his neck.

And even then Johnnie Green was not satisfied. Though his friend Red insisted that their captive could do them no harm (saying, "How can he bite when he can't move his head?") Johnnie Green replied that he would "fix him" so there couldn't possibly be any accident. And taking the old grain-sack he had brought back with him, he wrapped it carefully around Timothy's head, till he looked for all the world as if he had the earache.

"There!" Johnnie Green said, when he had finished. "He'll have to bite through that bag before he bites us; and I guess he'll find he has a pretty big mouthful."

Then he pulled out his jackknife and felt its sharp edge with his thumb.

"Lemme do it for you!" Red begged him, holding out his hand for the knife.

But Johnnie Green had no such idea.

"No!" he said firmly. "I've got to cut my initials myself."

"He might get loose and grab you," the red-haired boy remarked hopefully.

But Johnnie Green told him that he would risk that.

"Which way are you going to cut them?" Red asked him.

"What do you mean?" Johnnie inquired.

"Are you going to make 'em read when he's going or coming?" Red explained.

"I hadn't thought of that," Johnnie Green replied. "But I guess _going_ would be better. Then if he stands up you can read 'em just the same, without any trouble."

So Johnnie kneeled down beside Timothy Turtle. It took him some time to decide just where he would carve his initials on Timothy's shell. And he had about decided that the best place to put his mark on Mr. Turtle's back would be exactly in the middle of it, when he cried all at once, "Look, Red! Look!"

"Whassamatter?" the red-haired boy wanted to know.

"This is the queerest thing I ever heard of!" Johnnie exclaimed. "Here are my initials already cut!"

Red could not believe him, until he had peered at Timothy's shell 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.

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."