130 Dreaming Bob 



and fro over a wet and weedy pasture and 

 occasionally thrusting a long staff vigorously 

 into the mud. 



He was so promising a specimen for inter- 

 viewing that I immediately led off with a 

 question which I hoped would lead to a pro- 

 longed conversation. 



" What are you looking for ? a pot of 

 gold ?" I asked. 



" Tortles." 



" What kind of turtles ? land or water ?" 

 I asked, not feeling disposed to be snubbed, 

 although that seemed to be the old man's 

 purpose. 



"Mud," he growled, even more impa- 

 tiently than before. 



" Are mud turtles good to eat ?" I asked. 



" No, nor to look at," he replied. 



" Then what do you want with them ?" 

 I asked, without showing a trace of annoy- 

 ance. 



The old man now looked up, and, after 

 staring at me for at least a minute, said, 

 " Young man, do you own this ma'sh ?" 



" I do," I replied, with a smile. 



" Do you want me to go off?" he asked. 



" Certainly not," I replied. 



