“Another what?” demanded Agnes.
But she saw what he referred to the next moment. Neale was dancing in front of a big turtle and poking it with his stick to keep it from descending the beach to the sea.
“Come on!” Neale cried. “Here’s another one with his calling card on his back.”
“You don’t mean it!” cried Ruth. “Is he dated, too? Is it Amerigo Vespucci?”
“Wait! This fellow will keep going. There must have been some practical jokers in this neighborhood. Look, Agnes! What are those letters?”
“For goodness’ sake!” gasped Ruth.
But Agnes, almost choked with laughter, spelled out the following inscription on the turtle’s shell:
JULES CESAR
B. C. 48
“Four years before Cæsar died,” exclaimed Ruth, casting back in her mind to ancient history lessons.
“And what do you know about the ‘B. C.’? Cæsar must have known they were going to change the calendar,” chuckled Neale. “And the same informality of spelling. It seems Cæsar and Columbus must have gone to the same school.”