280 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



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 snap- 

 per, 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 any- 

 how. 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. 



" No I didn't either," Uz replied quickly. " Don't set 

 me down for such a fool as that. I knew well enough 

 the turtle wouldn't wander far, so I kept him in mind, 

 and the next April I went out in proper trim and 

 hunted him up. I found him after two days' huntin', 

 when I got a dozen big ones besides, but he was the king 

 of the lot. He couldn't turn 'round in a wash-tub, and 

 weighed somethin' over seventy pounds. I looked all 

 over him for some sign of my shirt, but there wasn't a 

 thread left." 



" How old do you suppose he was ? " I asked, when 

 Uz had concluded his story. 



