However, Flossie was a bit timid, so she stood on the edge of the pond and said:
“Wade in again, Freddie, and tell me if it’s very deep and if it’s cold.”
“It isn’t deep and it isn’t cold,” declared Freddie. “I’ll show you, Flossie!”
He waded boldly out into the pond, splashing about and getting the bottoms of his little trousers wet. He turned toward Flossie, to tell her to come on out, but, suddenly, a queer look came over the little boy’s face.
“Oh, Flossie!” he cried. “Something’s got me by the toe! Oh, I guess it’s a mud turkle! Go call mother!”
Flossie paused for a moment on the edge of the pond.
“Go on! Go on!” cried Freddie, dancing about with one foot out of the water. The other seemed stuck in the mud. “Go on. Call mother! Tell her a mud turkle has me by the toe!”
“I don’t see any turkle,” remarked Flossie. Both she and Freddie called it “turkle,” instead of turtle.
“Well, the turkle is here all right!” Freddie exclaimed. “He has me by the toe! Maybe it’s a snapping turkle ’stid of a mud turkle! But go call mother!”
Away ran Flossie, and she was soon gasping to her mother: