"Yes—but what's on your shell?" everybody was sure to answer back.
Timothy Turtle couldn't have replied to that question, even if he had wanted to. And though he always sneered when hearing it and turned his head away, as if the matter was something he didn't care to talk about, there was nobody who was any more eager to know the answer than he.
To be sure, by raising his head he could get a slanting view of the top of his shell. But such a glimpse was not enough to tell him anything.
Under the constant inquiries of his neighbors Timothy's curiosity grew every day. Soon he took to staring at his reflection in the surface of the water, with[p. 84] the hope that he might be able to see his back in that way.
But it was all in vain. Though Timothy twisted and turned and stretched his long neck, he couldn't see his own back, no matter how much he tried.
Now, there was an ill-mannered scamp named Peter Mink who happened to go prowling up the creek one day. And as he quietly rounded a bend he came upon an odd sight.
In front of him, and perched on a rock in the midst of the water, Timothy Turtle was going through the queerest motions. He seemed to be peering into the water at something, while wriggling about in a most peculiar fashion.
He did not notice Peter Mink, who stood stock still and watched him for some time without speaking.
At last Peter's prying ways got the better[p. 85] of him. He simply had to say something.
"What on earth are you doing!" he called to Timothy.