Neale rolled off, scrambled to his feet, and began to examine the marks on the turtle’s back.
“You’re right they are!” he exclaimed. “We aren’t the first folks that have made a pet of this fellow.”
“Pet!” repeated Ruth, scornfully.
“What does it say?” cried Agnes.
“Perhaps he carries his calling card with him,” announced Neale O’Neil.
Dot stopped crying and Tess and she came nearer to the turtle. The creature, as though realizing that it was foiled in its first attempt to reach the sea, had stopped. They could all see the deep scratches on the shell. They looked like this:
CRISTOFO COLUMBO
1492
“Well, of all things!” gasped Ruth, when she had gained a complete understanding of what the inscription on the turtle’s shell meant.
“Is that his name?” asked Dot. “Cristuff—tuff——Why! And there is his number!”
“I wonder if that is his street number or his telephone?” chuckled Neale.