"Say, boys, I have an idea," Charlie Swan announced one morning as he was sitting on the porch of the farm-house where he and his cousins were spending the summer.
"Let's have it," said Jack, one of the cousins.
"Well, it's just this. You know the pond is full of torups. I believe we boys can have some fun catching them."
"Pooh!" interrupted Jack, "we've had that idea for a long time. How are you going to do it?"
"With a trap," answered Charlie, looking very wise.
"Who ever heard of trapping terrapin?"
"I don't see why it can't be done."
"What kind of a trap would you use?"
"Come out to the shop, and I'll show you," replied Charlie.
While the boys are in the shop I will explain, for the benefit of my readers who do not live near the water, what a torup is. It is a member of the turtle family, and closely resembles the far-famed terrapin of Chesapeake Bay, but it differs from the terrapin in that it lives in either fresh or salt water, rather preferring the fresh, and burying itself in the mud for a greater part of the time. Consequently its flesh acquires a muddy flavor that many people do not like. The torup has all the ferocity of the snapping-turtle, and when aroused will display wonderful agility in jumping at its enemies. In common with the rest of the turtle family, it has the peculiarity, as the Irishman expressed it, of "living a long time after it's dead." I have seen one bite through a lead-pencil six hours after the head had been separated from the body. Another trait of the torup, which Charlie meant to take advantage of in making his trap, is that he will crawl into anything or under any log beneath which he can possibly force himself, resistance only seeming to make him more obstinate in the accomplishment of his purpose.