Of all the creatures that walked or swam or flew, Timothy Turtle liked boys the least of all. He said that if they ever did anything except throw stones he had never caught them at it.
"It's a wonder"—he often remarked—"it's a wonder that there's a stone left anywhere along this creek. I've lived here a good many years; and no boy ever spied me sunning myself on a rock in the water without trying to hit me."
Once in a great while some youngster was skillful enough to bounce a stone off Mr. Turtle's back. And when the old scamp flopped into the water he always heard a great whooping from the bank.
At such times as likely as not Timothy had been awakened from a sound sleep. But when that jeering noise greeted his ears he knew at once what had struck him.

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