Page:Popular Science Monthly Volume 25.djvu/494

480 a tough job, I tell you. I had to walk backward, and he pulled against me like a frightened horse. I gained a little, slowly, and after a bit got on the high ground. Then I felt more at ease and took a rest. I couldn't take him home, of course, in the same fashion, but I had a chance to let him loose, and rest my hands. How I looked 'round for a bit of rope to bridle him! It was no use, though, and after all I was likely to lose him altogether. After a minute's thinkin', it occurred to me I'd make a hobble out of my shirt and then slip home lively for the right sort of tackle. I wasn't long in gettin' the shirt off, and I twisted it into a sort of rope and hobbled him with it. It was a desperate, odd-lookin' turtle when I got through, and I laughed at him a bit as I turned toward the house. You see, I left him on his back, and his legs bound so he couldn't use 'em to turn over. I skipped pretty lively, I tell you, for that mile or so twixt me and home, and was in a good glow when I got in. Hettie looked kind o' scared when she saw me, but I put her mind to rest in two words, and soon was on my way back. A bit of rope and my sheath-knife was all I needed. I skipped over the fields pretty lively, and was soon again in sight. Now, I don't think it was an hour, by some minutes, before I was back on the high meadow, but, by gracious! it don't take long for scenes to change in natur' any more than it does in a theatre. Of all queer sights, that was the funniest I saw when I got back. The turtle had got half free of my old red shirt, and was pawin' the air like mad, tryin' to get on his feet again. I could see that much a long way off, and put on extra speed; but when I was about fifty yards off I stopped short. There was that turtle wrapped in my shirt, and a pesky skunk sort of standin' guard over him. Now, I hate skunks! They don't pay to trap, and they rob my hen-roost every winter. I was afraid to frighten him, too, for fear he'd spoil my snapper, and I wanted the value of a shirt out of the turtle, if nothin' more. I walked a bit nearer, to make sure of how matters stood, and it was clear as day, the skunk thought he had a good thing of it, if he could only kill that snapper. I thought the same way, and didn't want to be bettered by a pesky skunk. I made up my mind to jockey about it, a little; and so, first, heaved a stone at the critter. It gave me a look and started on a slow trot, but it was all up with me, sure enough. He shook that thunderin' old brush right at the turtle and—well! if he didn't sicken the snapper, he did me, that's certain. I stood the racket a bit, though, and tried to move the snapper, but it was no use; I couldn't keep at it long enough to do anything, and don't believe it would have amounted to much anyhow. I got a stick and put the snapper on his feet, as well as I could, without touchin' him, and he waddled off for the mucky meadow, with most of my shirt still stickin' to him, and plunged into the ditch as soon as he could."

"So you lost the turtle after all," I remarked in a low tone, not feeling sure I had heard the last of the story.