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Updated: May 18, 2025
The twilight still glimmered faintly; the sky was thick with stars of a brightness never seen in more humid air; the Milky Way was like a fair white cloud; the fantastic bluffs looked stranger than ever against the pale green west; and the splendid comet was plunging straight down into; the Turtle's mouth.
At first he thought he would slip off the turtle's rounded shell, and he cried out in fright. "Never fear," said his friend. "Only sit quietly, and there will be no danger." They had now risen far into the air, and Bamboo could look down over the great forest of Hsi Ling all bathed in moonlight.
Timothy Turtle's visit at the beaver pond was just like all of his outings. Wherever he went he was so disagreeable and snappish that there wasn't a single person in the whole village that didn't wish Timothy had stayed away from that place. He was forever grumbling, complaining that the fishing was poor in the pond. And as for frogs, he declared that he hadn't seen even one.
Nevertheless, I set my wits to work, and at length decided upon an interesting experiment. I filled a large turtle shell with sand and a little clay, and thoroughly wetted the mixture with turtle's blood, then stirring the mass into a puddle and planting corn in it.
Dean's face usually was about as expressive as the turtle's, it woke and warmed with the affection which his daughter had fostered till no amount of flannel could extinguish it. His big hand patted her cheek very gently as he said, in a tone of fatherly love and pride, "My little Sy never forgets old father, does she?" "Good gracious me, my dear, there's such a mess in the kitchen!
The turtle's neck was so short that it could not turn its head to bite Freddie, nor could the big flippers reach him. As they had no claws on the ends, they would have done no harm, anyhow, if they had brushed him. The greatest danger was that the turtle might suddenly sink down to the bottom of the pool, and, though it was not very deep, it was deep enough to have let Freddie drown.
Then, much to my disgust, he began spitting tobacco juice in the turtle's eyes, forcing it to draw its head into the shell. It didn't seem to like it very much, for all of a sudden it reached out its head and grabbed Duncan Wallace by the nose, and, oh, Bob, you should have seen him dance and heard him swear; he swore something terrible," she said laughing heartily.
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. So it was not long before Timothy Turtle's neighbors began to ask him what was on his back. "My shell's on my back!" he snapped, when any one put that question to him. "Yes but what's on your shell?" everybody was sure to answer back.
They, of course, pretended to believe the story of the countryman, but for fear some of the other Headquarters men might hear and want a share, they hurried him away from the office over to the Sherman House; then one went to Turtle's office and posted him on the situation.
"Yes," I says, "there ain't no bigger one, I don't reckon." "Well," he says, "this Desert is about the shape of the United States, and if you was to lay it down on top of the United States, it would cover the land of the free out of sight like a blanket. There'd be a little corner sticking out, up at Maine and away up northwest, and Florida sticking out like a turtle's tail, and that's all.
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