The Tale of Timothy Turtle | Page 4

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.
[Illustration: "Let Me In!" said Timothy to Mr. Frog.]
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.
He was in no mood for laughter.

V
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.
"It's feeling better; but it's a wonder that I can see with it at all,"
Timothy Turtle grumbled. "If I ever get hold of that fat young fellow
again I'll pull him under the water before he knows what's happened to
him. He doesn't fight fair."
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.
"Well--not a friend, exactly," Mr. Crow explained. "He lives in the
South, where I spend the winters. You look like him, in many ways."
"And his name?" Timothy Turtle said.
"Mr. Alligator!"
Timothy Turtle grunted.
"Humph!" he said. "I've never heard of him."
"That's not strange," old Mr. Crow told him. "He stays all the time in
the South and you stay all the time in the North. You couldn't very well
meet, you see."
"Your tail is a good deal like his," Mr. Crow continued. "And when you
walk you have a trick of raising yourself sometimes on your hind legs,
with your head and tail stretched out--a trick that reminds me of him."
For once Timothy seemed pleased.
"Anything else?" he demanded, with something that was almost like a
smile. Unfortunately, he had passed so many years with a constant
frown on his face that smiling actually hurt him.
"Why, yes! There is something else," old Mr. Crow went on. "You and

he have the same way of snapping at things."
There was no doubt, now,