"Where is Father Time?" continued the little boy.
"I don't know. Perhaps he is going ahead now at his regular rate of sixty seconds to the minute."
Tommy scratched his head meditatively and looked about him. The field in which the hay-stack stood was surrounded by hills and forests, and here and there could be seen various kinds of animals travelling in pairs. Over the crests of the trees, directly in front of them, the little boy espied something that looked like the roof of an immense barn. He called the ex-Pirate's attention to it.
"That must be the Ark," said the latter, rising. "Let's go and find out."
They clambered down the hay-stack into the field, and started off in the direction of the woods. There was not any path for them to follow, and occasionally they had to wade through tall grass that reached almost up to their waists. In one of these clumps of herbage they heard voices.
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said one voice, "I am sure we shall be late. We are always late. Oh dear! oh dear! I wonder what time it is!"
Tommy and the ex-Pirate stopped and looked about them; but they could not see any one, and were about to proceed on their way, when they heard the same plaint again. They parted the tall grasses and followed the direction whence the sounds appeared to come, until they found two Turtles plodding along as fast as they could over the rough ground. It was the larger of the two Turtles that was wailing over the probability of their being late in arriving wherever they were going.
"What's the matter?" asked the ex-Pirate.
The Turtles paused and looked up.
"The matter?" exclaimed the larger Turtle. "Look at this," and he pulled a newspaper clipping out from under his shell. "I am sure we shall be late."