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MR. CROW was in no hurry to
leave Black Creek. And after Fatty Coon had limped away the old
gentleman still
sat in the tree which hung over the water. He hoped that Timothy Turtle
would
crawl out upon the bank and growl about Fatty.
The
old black rascal was not disappointed. Fatty
Coon had not been gone long when Timothy Turtle dragged
himself out of the
creek and stretched himself upon the sand in the warm sunshine.
"How's your eye?"
Mr. Crow asked him hoarsely.
"It's feeling better;
but it's a wonder that I can see with it at all," Timothy Turtle
grumbled.
"If I ever get hold of that fat young fellow again I'll hull him under
the
water before he knows what's happened to him. He doesn't fight fair."
Old Mr. Crow chuckled.
"You'll never have
another chance to show him the right way," he remarked. "He won't
come near this creek, or my name's not – ahem – Mr.
Crow."
"What's your first
name?" Timothy Turtle inquired, as he stared unpleasantly at the
speaker.
"Never mind!" said
the other. "Mr. Crow will do, if you want to attract my attention."
Timothy Turtle frowned.
"I don't want to,"
he retorted. "The fact is, I'd rather be alone. I don't care to have
strangers peeping down at me when I'm enjoying a sun-bath."
"But I like to look at
you," old Mr. Crow assured him solemnly. "You make me think, of
somebody I've known for a good many years."
"Ah! An old
friend!" Timothy exclaimed.
"Well – not a friend, exactly,"
Mr. Crow
explained. "He lives in the South, where I spend the winters. You look
like him, in many ways."
"And his name?"
Timothy Turtle said.
"Mr. Alligator!"
Timothy Turtle grunted.
"Humph!" he said.
"I've never heard of him."
"That's not
strange," old Mr. Crow told him. "He stays all the time in the South
and you stay all the time in the North. You couldn't very well meet,
you
see."
"Your tail is a good
deal like his," Mr. Crow continued. "And when you walk you have a
trick of raising yourself sometimes on your hind legs, with
your head and tail
stretched out – a trick that reminds me of him."
For once Timothy seemed
pleased.
"Anything else?"
he demanded, with something that was almost like a smile.
Unfortunately, he had
passed so many years with a constant frown on his face that smiling
actually
hurt him.
"Why, yes! There is
something else," old Mr. Crow went on. "You and he have the same way
of snapping at
things."
There was no doubt, now,
that Timothy Turtle was gratified.
"He must be a fine bird
– this Mr. Alligator!" he exclaimed.
Old Mr. Crow spluttered. And
he had to hang on tight to save himself from tumbling off his perch.
A bird! Timothy
Turtle thought that Mr. Alligator
was a bird!
The mistake was so amusing
that Mr. Crow wanted to laugh. But he knew that would never do
– if he wanted
any more fun with Timothy Turtle.
So he pretended to cough.
And he wrapped his muffler more snugly about his neck, remarking that
there was
a cold wind that day, even though the sun was warm.