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[p. 22] that I can see with it at all," Timothy Turtle grumbled. "If I ever get hold of that fat young fellow again I'll pull 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."[p. 23]