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Tale of Timothy Turtle, The

<h2>V</h2> <h3>MR. TURTLE'S MISTAKE</h3> 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, that Timothy Turtle was gratified. "He must be a fine bird—this Mr. Alligator!" he exclaimed. Old Mr. Crow spluttered. And he had to hang on tight to save himself from tumbling off his perch. A bird! Timothy Turtle thought that Mr. Alligator was a bird! The mistake was so amusing that Mr. Crow wanted to laugh. But he knew that would never do—if he wanted any more fun with Timothy Turtle. So he pretended to cough. And he wrapped his muffler more snugly about his neck, remarking that there was a cold wind that day, even though the sun was warm. <hr class="chapter" /> <h2>VI</h2> <h3>MR. CROW'S KIND OFFER</h3> "I suppose——" Timothy Turtle said to his young friend, old Mr. Crow—"I suppose Mr. Alligator is a fine flier." "He's a very powerful fellow," old Mr. Crow replied with a sly smile. "Did you ever try to follow him?" Timothy wanted to know. Mr. Crow shook his head. "No!" he answered. "I shouldn't want to do that, because one never could tell when he might take a notion to jump into the water." "Oh! Then he can swim, can he?" "Certainly!" Mr. Crow assured him. "Then that's another way in which he's like me!" Timothy Turtle cried. "And if I could only fly, I'd be still more like him." "Why don't you learn?" Mr. Crow suggested wickedly. "I'm too old," Timothy sighed. "Not at all!" Mr. Crow hastened to assure him. "One can never be too old to try a thing." But Timothy Turtle replied that even if he was young enough to attempt such a feat as flying, he hadn't the least idea of the way to go about it. Old Mr. Crow was most helpful. "I'll tell you what you ought to do," he advised. "You swim down the creek as far as the big bluff. And it will be a simple matter for you to climb up to the top of the bluff and jump off the rock that hangs high up over the water." Timothy Turtle looked far from happy at that suggestion. "I shouldn't care to do that," he said. "Why not?" Mr. Crow asked him. "You know there's only one way of flying, and that's through the air." "I might fall," Timothy objected. "What if you did?" said Mr. Crow glibly. "You'd only fall into the water. And everybody agrees that you're a fine swimmer.... You aren't afraid of getting your feet wet, are you?" And he laughed loudly at his own joke. For some reason Timothy lost his temper. Perhaps he thought Mr. Crow was disrespectful to his elders. "Look here, young man!" he snapped, glaring angrily at old Mr. Crow. "If you're laughing at me, I'll invite you to drop down here and stand on the end of my nose." Old Mr. Crow grew sober at once. The mere thought of perching himself in so dangerous a place was enough to put a quick end to his noisy haw-haws. "My dear sir!" he cried. "I wouldn't dream of standing on the nose of a fine old gentleman like you. No indeedy! My manners are too good for that." Timothy Turtle said bluntly that he had always been told that Mr. Crow was the rudest person in all Pleasant Valley—unless it was Mr. Crow's boisterous cousin, Jasper Jay. When he heard that, Mr. Crow pretended to wipe a tear away from each of his eyes. "I've always been misunderstood," he declared mournfully. "I'm really a kind-hearted soul. And just to prove to you that I want to be helpful, I'll meet you at the bluff any time you say, and tell you exactly what to do if you want to learn to fly." Timothy Turtle seemed to think that the chance was too good a one to lose. "I accept your offer," he shouted. "And I'll start downstream this very moment." <hr class="chapter" /> <h2>VII</h2> <h3>LEARNING TO FLY</h3> Timothy Turtle reached the overhanging bluff in a surprisingly short time. But it must be remembered that he did not walk there on land, but swam down Black Creek with the current. When he crawled out upon the bank he was glad to see that old Mr. Crow was waiting for him, on a pine stump that stood near the water. He failed utterly to notice that Mr. Crow was not alone. Hidden in all sorts of places were as many as a dozen of Mr. Crow's friends. For the old gentleman had invited his cousin, Jasper Jay, to come to the bluff "to enjoy the fun," as he expressed it. "But don't let Timothy Turtle see you!" Mr. Crow had warned Jasper. "At least, don't let him know you're there until after he has jumped off the big rock." Jasper Jay had given his solemn promise. "And don't let him hear you, either," Mr. Crow had said. And Jasper had agreed to that, too, although he said that it might be a hard thing to do. Well, Timothy Turtle crawled out upon the bank and took a long look at the high bluff above him, from which the great rock hung over the water of the creek. "I believe——" he said to old Mr. Crow—"I believe I'd better wait till to-morrow before I try to fly. I've just had a long swim, you know. And I want to feel fresh when I take my first lesson." "Nonsense!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "Everything's all ready. You're not too tired, are you, to climb to the top of the bluff?" "No," Timothy Turtle admitted. "Then you've no reason for waiting," Mr. Crow assured him. "Coming down will be much easier than going up." "I dare say that's true," Timothy remarked. "But I don't quite like to think about this business of flying." "Then you certainly ought not to wait any longer," Mr. Crow urged him. "For the longer you wait the more time you'll have to think." That appeared to Timothy Turtle to be a good bit of advice. And yet he still seemed uneasy. "There's just one thing that troubles me," he confessed. "After I've jumped from the rock I might find that I couldn't fly. And I'd get a bad fall." "But you'd land in the water," Mr. Crow reminded him. "And that would be much better than falling on the land.... I don't need to tell you," he added, "that water is soft. And you're a fine swimmer." So Timothy Turtle yielded. And thereupon he began to drag himself up the steep bluff. It seemed to Mr. Crow that he had never known anybody to walk so slowly. But then, of course, he was in a hurry to see the fun. And it couldn't really begin until Mr. Turtle should reach the big rock and take the leap that Mr. Crow had suggested to him. Jasper Jay and the rowdies he had brought with him stirred impatiently. And Jasper said aloud to one of them: "What an old slow-poke he is!" "What's that!" Timothy Turtle inquired, as he stopped and looked around at Mr. Crow. "I didn't speak," Mr. Crow told him. Timothy glared at his teacher for a few moments. And Mr. Crow began to think that Jasper Jay had spoiled the fun. But at last Timothy Turtle plodded on. And when his back was turned old Mr. Crow flew over to the place where Jasper Jay was hidden and whispered to him that he had better keep still or there would be trouble for him. <hr class="chapter" /> <h2>VIII</h2> <h3>TURNING TURTLE</h3> So Timothy Turtle struggled up the steep face of the bluff. And as he neared the top Mr. Crow began to hop up and down upon the old pine stump. He was almost bursting with silent laughter. But he succeeded in keeping quiet. And now and then he made threatening motions toward Jasper Jay and his friends, who stuck their heads from behind limbs of trees and hummocks and bushes, lest they miss any of the fun. Once on top of the great rock that capped the bluff and hung out over the creek, Timothy Turtle clung there and peered down at the gently flowing water below. "What a long way it is down there!" he called to Mr. Crow. "Don't think about that!" Mr. Crow cautioned him. "Is this the way Mr. Alligator learned to fly?" Timothy Turtle demanded. "Don't think about him!" Mr. Crow shouted. "Just jump out as far as you can!" "I believe I don't care to fly to-day," Timothy Turtle faltered, drawing back from the edge of the rock. "I——I'll wait till some other time. You know, I'm older than you are." "Tut, tut!" said Mr. Crow. "When I'm your age I shall still be flying as well as I do now. It's nothing, when you know how. Nothing at all!" Urged by Mr. Crow, Timothy Turtle once more crept to the very edge of the cliff and stretched his neck out as far as he could, to gaze down at the black water. And at last, after making several false starts and drawing back to a place of safety, he stood up on his hind legs, shut his eyes, and hopped off into space. Now, the moment Timothy Turtle leaped from the top of the bluff a deafening squawk broke the silence. Old Mr. Crow cawed as loud as he knew how. But the racket he made was as nothing compared with the uproar of Jasper Jay and the noisy crew he had brought with him. They squalled with delight as Timothy Turtle plunged through the air like a stone. And when he landed upside down in the creek, striking the water with a great splash, the whole company shrieked louder than ever. "Ha! ha! ha!" Mr. Crow cried, holding his sides and rocking backwards and forwards upon the old stump. "Jay! jay! jay!" Jasper and his friends bawled, hopping up and down and cutting capers in the air. As for Timothy Turtle, he made no sound at all. And neither did he make the slightest motion. The current of Black Creek caught him and bore him away down the stream. But at last he managed to paddle ashore. And he pulled himself slowly out of the water, and lay upon the sand and groaned. Mr. Crow and his cronies gathered quickly about him. "What's the matter?" Mr. Crow inquired. "Don't you like flying?" It was some time before Timothy could answer. "I've had an awful fall," he moaned finally. "Where are you hurt?" Mr. Crow asked him. "Everywhere!" Timothy Turtle told him. "I thought you said that water was soft to fall into." "Well, isn't it?" "It certainly is not," Timothy Turtle declared. "I believe there's nothing harder in the whole world.... I've heard, sir, that you are very wise. But for once, anyhow, you've made a great mistake." Old Mr. Crow coughed—and winked at his friends. "The trouble was"—he explained—"the trouble was, you lost your balance and landed in the creek upside down. And of course you couldn't fly in that position. It's what's called 'turning turtle,'" he added, "and I might have known—if I had stopped to think—that you'd be sure to do it." "Well," said Timothy Turtle, drawing a long breath, "I'll tell you right now that I'll never, never, turn turtle again." <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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