The Tale of Timothy Turtle | Page 3

years and years. We'll have to get on with him as best we can,
for there's no doubt that Timothy Turtle is here to stay."

III
TIMOTHY'S GRUDGE
Sometimes Fatty Coon liked a taste of fresh fish, just by way of a
change from Farmer Green's corn, and blackberries, wild grapes,
bugs--and all the other dainties on which he dined.
So it happened that one day he visited Black Creek, where he crouched
near the water with the hope that some silly fish would swim within
reach of his sharp claws.
For a long time he waited patiently. And at last, to his great joy, a
young pickerel nosed his way through the shallow water in front of
him.
The newcomer was hunting flies. And he did not notice the eager
fisherman.
Fatty Coon waited until just the right moment. And then one of his

paws darted suddenly into the water.
But instead of Fatty Coon catching the pickerel, someone else caught
Fatty Coon.
His captor was no less a person than Timothy Turtle himself, who had
been buried all this time in the mud almost under Fatty Coon's nose.
That is, his body was buried. His head and neck he had left free, so that
he might strike at a fish when one came his way. But he had seen
something else that took his fancy. When Fatty's paw scooped into the
water Timothy Turtle just had to grab it.
"Let me go!" Fatty Coon shrieked, for Mr. Turtle's cruel jaws hurt him
terribly.
"Why, this is fun!" Timothy Turtle muttered thickly, as he took a firmer
hold on Fatty's paw. "Besides, I've been wanting to talk with you for a
long time."
"Then you'd better let me go," Fatty groaned, "because you can't talk
well with your mouth full."
"I can say all I need to," Timothy Turtle grunted. "And I know that if I
dropped your paw you'd run off."
"Hurry, then!" Fatty Coon begged him piteously. "Hurry and tell me
what you have to say. And please talk fast!"
Timothy Turtle almost smiled.
"Am I hurting you?" he inquired.
"Yes, you are!" cried Fatty Coon.
"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.
"Very well! She's a young one, of course," Fatty said hastily. "But I
don't know how I've harmed you."
"You don't, eh?" Timothy Turtle snarled. "Then I'll explain. I meant to
have those eggs myself, young man!"

IV
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."
"I'm sorry----" Fatty told him--"I'm sorry that I ever touched the old--I
mean the young--lady's eggs. And now that you've almost bitten my
paw in two, please--good Mr. Turtle--let me go!"
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."
"But it was only a mistake!" Fatty Coon moaned. "I never knew you
wanted those eggs yourself."
"Take care----" said Timothy Turtle sternly--"take care that you never
make such a mistake again."
"Don't do that!" Fatty Coon suddenly cried.
"Don't do what?" was Mr. Turtle's testy reply.
"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