Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
But perhaps he never stopped to think that one might almost as well bite a rock as his hard shell. And anybody might better chew a piece of leather than try to take a mouthful out of his legs, or his neck, or his head. So no one paid any heed to Timothy Turtle's kind offer. Even Peter Mink, who was himself overfond of biting people, wisely let Mr. Turtle alone.
"Sure, we're no worse off than we were before. And here we've had a whole week of hope and fine air-castles. I've seen 'em tumble down so often that I've a shell like a turtle's now. Forget it." "But there is one thing I wish to understand thoroughly," put in Worth slowly. "And that?" La Signorina was never sure of this man.
"It's a wonder" he often remarked "it's a wonder that there's a stone left anywhere along this creek. I've lived here a good many years; and no boy ever spied me sunning myself on a rock in the water without trying to hit me." Once in a great while some youngster was skillful enough to bounce a stone off Mr. Turtle's back.
He had brought an ample supply for our supper; some were roasted, but others were boiled as we had done the turtle's eggs. After this, commending ourselves to One whom we knew would watch over us, we lay down in our small hut to sleep. The sun was just rising out of the horizon when we awoke; the sea was calm and blue, and the sky was beautifully clear.
Accordingly, one fine day there came half a dozen great boatloads of armed Spaniards, who landed upon the Turtle's Back and sent the Frenchmen flying to the woods and fastnesses of rocks as the chaff flies before the thunder gust.
Acting on this advice the muskrat plunged down, then arose with his two little forepaws grasping some earth he had found beneath the waters. "Place it on my shell and dive again for more," directed the turtle. The muskrat did so, but when he returned with his paws filled with earth he discovered the small quantity he had first deposited on the turtle's shell had doubled in size.
He simply had to say something. "What on earth are you doing!" he called to Timothy. Mr. Turtle gave a great start. "I'm looking at myself that's all," he said. He was so surprised that for once he actually answered a question politely. His reply amused Peter Mink. And that ill-bred rascal laughed right in Timothy Turtle's face.
With what address did he receive the turtle's head, which did for the ball, on the pointed end of the stick! With what grace did he make the ball describe some learned curve of which mathematicians have not yet calculated the value even those who have determined the wondrous curve of "the dog who follows his master!"
I was still unwilling to attack the mollusc; but Macco, cutting off some slices, toasted them before the fire, and declared them very good. I preferred supping on the remainder of the turtle's eggs, as did Oliver. He, however, tried a bit of the mollusc, but agreed that, unless more perfectly cooked, it was likely to prove very indigestible. Having finished our repast, we crept into our hut.
At four o'clock the morning of the arrival, Lilly was up, moving with the aimlessness of great nervousness about the apartment. At that same hour Mrs. Becker was emerging backward from her sleeper, kimono-clad, and bulging through the curtains into the dark aisle. "Carrie," her husband whispered after her, jutting his head out with a turtle's dart, "it's only three o'clock, Eastern time.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking