Part 8 (1/2)

”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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Let me go!” Fatty c.o.o.n shrieked.]

So it was not long before Timothy Turtle's neighbors began to ask him what was on his back.

”My sh.e.l.l's on my back!” he snapped, when any one put that question to him.

”Yes--but what's on your sh.e.l.l?” 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 n.o.body who was any more eager to know the answer than he.