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Tale of Timothy Turtle, The

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<h2>III</h2> <h3>TIMOTHY'S GRUDGE</h3> 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!" <hr class="chapter" /> <h2>IV</h2> <h3>A TIGHT SQUEEZE</h3> 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 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. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-027.jpg" alt='"Let Me In!" said Timothy to Mr. Frog.' title='"Let Me In!" said Timothy to Mr. Frog.' width-obs="383" height-obs="551" /> "Let Me In!" said Timothy to Mr. Frog.</div> 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. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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