"Quick, Ernest!" cried Faith, for it was on his side.
He sprang forward, but not quickly enough. The turtle had only to give one vigorous push of his hind feet and, plump, he fell into the water. Instantly the brook became muddy at that point, for Mr. Turtle knew that he must be a very busy fellow if he escaped from the eager children who were after him.
He burrowed into the soft earth while Ernest and Faith threw themselves flat on their stomachs. Gladys opened her brown eyes wide to see her cousins, their sleeves stripped up, plunging their hands blindly about hoping to trap their reluctant playfellow.
Ernest was successful, and bringing up the muddy turtle, soused him in the water until his golden spots gleamed again.
"Hurrah!" cried Faith, "we have him. Let me show him to Gladys, please, Ernest," and the boy put the turtle into the hand stretched across to him.
As soon as the creature found that kicking and struggling did not do any good, it had drawn head, legs, and tail into its pretty shell house.
Faith put him into Gladys's hand, but the little city girl cried out and dropped him on the grass.
"Oh, excuse me," laughed Faith. "I thought you wanted to see it."
"I do, but I don't believe I want to touch it."
"Why, they're the dearest, cleanest things," said Faith, and picking up the turtle she showed her cousin its pretty under shell of cream color and black, and the round splashes of gold on its black back.