The turtle sat on a log in the middle of the pond. A hazy sunlight bore down upon the turtle’s back.
One of his legs was drawn up under him, and he turned an eye — if it may be called so — towards our little group on shore. He might have been born yesterday or last century; but I had a vague sort of feeling that I knew him — for didn’t we two meet last night? When you came home at three o’clock in the morning! Didn’t we talk about breaking into houses to get something good to eat? Yesterday afternoon, when I met you with the basket, didn’t I hear a flapping in the bushes by my left ear, just as I passed out of the gate? It can’t be possible that I’m mistaken about that leg drawn up, and the long sallow flank-feather sticking half out of its shell. For Heaven’s sake, how does your wife come here?”
“She’s along there.” The gentleman pointed down to the water. “You see she wants some more turtles!”
“My dear fellow,” said the naturalist, gravely, “this is very bad business altogether. Let me ask you one question before I go: Where are your boots?”
“He must mean me!” ejaculated Boots himself, turning quickly around. Then looking over to where I stood, he continued: “‘Bless me! If here ain’t old Turtle!’ Well, well! So this is what they call laughing their heads off now-a-days!” Here he turned again, and resumed his examination of Mrs. Turtle.
“Yes, gentlemen, it certainly is myself!” cried the turtle lady. “I never thought I could live through it; but I’ve got used to it by this time. We’ll not stay here long. I’d rather get right into the house than have these folks staring at me all day.”
“What shall we do with her, then?” inquired Mr. Turtle, who was greatly perplexed. “We can’t leave her on the bank.”
“Of course not,” assented the other, promptly. “But how shall we bring her home?”
Mr. Turtle scratched his head for a moment or two in great embarrassment and vexation.
“Come, come!” exclaimed the naturalist impatiently, “you’re getting dreadfully slow about everything. Suppose you take hold of her hind legs — you, sir — while you get hold of her fore legs — you there — and let us tow her across.”
This proposal being approved of by both parties to the negotiation, they began to pull upon the creature’s hinder legs, which were several feet long; but in such sort as to make them, altogether, very much longer. And, strange to say, they pulled with more energy the more they tugged.
“Hurrah!” cried Boots, letting out all the steam he had in him. “We’re doing it, sure enough!”
The turtle drew up one end of its shell, raised its nose, and poked its eyes out through a crack, just like a child making faces at its nurse, when she catches it trying to swallow a pin.
“Keep pulling!” said the gentleman who owned the pond, with some anxiety. “She won’t stand that way any length of time.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” laughed Boots. “You’ll see how we’ll fix her. If we don’t get her home pretty soon, I’ll lose my place; and then what will become of your wife, sir? It won’t do, sir. She’ll die.”
The lady was now entirely helpless. They managed, however, after straining their arms down to their sides, and sweating freely all over, until they looked as though they had been dragged over a brick pavement in winter, to drag their prize about thirty or forty rods towards the shore. Here Mr. Turtle got a strong piece of rope from his wagon-tongue (for his boots were too well filled with water by this time to admit of his getting it), and tying the turtle fast at one end, made a noose at the other, slipped it round her body, and hoisting it up to a good height, he told me to take hold of the free end of the line. The turtle’s weight kept the noose open as tight as a bowstring; and we pulled her easily off the ground into the bottom of the wagon. Then we passed an old rug around her; and as she lay in this snug nest, coiled up on herself like a sleepy kitten, I could not help thinking what a fine fellow she was for going asleep!
“I’m glad you came here,” said Mr. Turtle to the naturalist. “You’ve helped us out of a great scrape.”
“You’re very much obliged to me,” returned our friend. “It’s fortunate that I happened along when I did.”
The turtles being thus disposed of, our next business was to start back again for town with them. But we found it so hard work pushing through the bushes that had collected while we had been away, that we determined to leave Mrs. Turtle where we had found her, and go home first for some assistance. We hurried, therefore, through the woods; but before long, we saw coming towards us, at a rapid trot, a tall man in a brown coat and black slouched hat, who appeared to be in search of some one; he soon caught sight of us; and putting his hand to his mouth, he gave a shrill whistle, which was instantly answered from behind a clump of bushes, a little way ahead. Two men stepped forth from their concealment — a short, broad-shouldered fellow, dressed like a hunter or trapper, with a big stick over his shoulder, and a smaller, stooping person, whose costume denoted him as belonging to a humbler class of society. They were both armed with rifles or shot-guns, and the taller wore a brace of horse pistols in his belt; they were all three well mounted. The leader advanced towards us, and Mr. Turtle stopped.
“What’s the news?” inquired Boots, addressing himself to this new comer.
“Good!” replied he, without stopping or looking back at us.
“Who do you belong to? Are you out after game?”
“We are.”
“I hope you’ll get it.”
They rode on together for a few rods, when suddenly the taller man wheeled about, and shouted: “Hi! You’re wanted, sir! Hi! come here! Here, boy! Where are you?” And then we heard a faint cry for help among the bushes. It was the voice of the lady turtle; and the two hunters spurred their horses forward towards where she lay.
“Heigho!” exclaimed Boots. “There goes my place.”
“Why so?” said I.
“Because I told that fellow not to take her home till I got there.”
“How did that happen?” I asked in astonishment.
“I don’t know,” replied he carelessly. “The best thing I can do will be to catch up with them before they reach her. They may not hurt her much, if they only give her a good talking-to, and scare her a little.”
He started off at full speed, and quickly overtook the party just as they came near enough to hear the last words of the lady’s lamentations. As soon as they saw him, the two men drew rein.
“Well!” demanded the leader sternly.
“Well what?” returned our friend innocently.
“What are you doing here, Sir?”
“Why, just taking an airing; ain’t you? What do you want?”
“Are you out after game?” continued he sharply; but noticing our companion’s innocent looks, he added, in quite another tone —
“Oh no! We’re hunting turtles.”
“Well — humph! There is one now.” He pointed to Mrs. Turtle, who sat up straight and rigid on her rug, regarding the whole group around her with a countenance which had suddenly resumed its original expression of cold reserve. The two hunters looked down upon the animal at their feet for a moment or two without speaking.
“So it is!” muttered Boots, dismounting. “What under the canopy did you catch it for?” he inquired, addressing himself directly to the turtle lady. “I thought we’d agreed not to take any more this season?”
She did not answer immediately, but kept looking steadily from one face to another. Then she turned to the naturalist, and said: “It was because we could not get anything else that would pay better.”