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Updated: May 18, 2025
In spite of wealth and "owning her own automobile," Mrs. Turtle's fetish was democratic popularity. She greeted one after another. "How do, Mis' Bridge, and Mister, too! Who's keeping store while you're away? "Carrie Turpin! You here? Where's Si? Couldn't come? Now that's too bad!" After a long stare, "You're some fleshier, ain't you, Carrie?"
Nothing but a combination of motives, more peremptory than the coal on the turtle's back, could have got me to leave the shelter of my carapace; and after memorable interviews, and kindest hospitalities, and grand sights, and huge influx of patriotic pride, for every American owns all America, "Creation's heir, the world, the world is"
He shut the door again with great haste and barred it. And he held one hand over his heart, as if he had just received a terrible fright. "Let me in!" somebody called. The tailor knew that it was Timothy Turtle's voice, for he had seen that crusty old person standing upon his doorstep. "Go away!" Mr. Frog replied. "I'm not here." He was an odd chap this Ferdinand Frog.
Another remarkable resemblance lies in the fact that in both cases the eggs are large, well stored with nourishment, and protected by a resistant shell. So few people know the turtle's egg that it will be better to describe that of the hen, which it largely resembles.
But as it was, he had now a vulnerable point, and at last the octopus found it. His beak closed upon the exposed half of the turtle's head, and slowly, inexorably, sheared it clean off just behind the eyes.
Joe's condition is suthin' like the snappin' turtle's when he cotched a-holt of Peleg Swift's red nose as he was stoopin' ter git a drink at the spring. He didn't durst ter let go while Peke was runnin' an' yellin' 'Murder! but he was mighty sorry ter git so fur from home. Haw! haw! haw!" "What is the matter with Joe Bodley now, Walky?" asked Nelson, who was present.
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.
He draws his head into his shoulders as a turtle's head is drawn into its shell, whirls like lightning on the top of his head to his other shoulder, and on over, carrying the horrified Ware with him, plouncing the Trojan flat on his back, and plumping down on top of him. And the excited referee went over on his back also, and kicked his heels foolishly in the air as he cried: "Down!"
A man standing ready in the bow, at this moment dashes through the water upon the turtle's back; then clinging with both hands by the shell of its neck, he is carried away till the animal becomes exhausted and is secured. It was quite an interesting chase to see the two boats thus doubling about, and the men dashing head foremost into the water trying to seize their prey.
When he stepped behind Timothy and gazed at his back, Peter Mink thought of a fine way to tease the old fellow. Of course, he had not the slightest idea what those marks on Mr. Turtle's shell meant. But he looked down at them with a wise smile. Mr. Turtle, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye, saw that smile; and he did not like it in the least. In fact, it made him feel quite peevish.
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