Bartleby of the Big Bad Bayou (10 page)

“Oh, Lucky Gal! Poor, poor Lucky,” Bartleby moaned.

Number Four blinked his small, muddy eyes. “Did something happen to Lucky Gal?”

“Happen? You ate
her!
”

“Me? Eat Lucky Gal? Never!” The gator sank lower in the water. “I hate to think what Seezer would do if he thought I'd harmed her! No, I ate a tough old catfish that had been hiding in this mud puddle.” Number Four heaved a big, wet sigh. “I know I should have shared it with the others.”

Bartleby swam up to the gator and stuck his small snout in Number Four's big one. “I don't care about that!” he shouted. “I'm looking for Lucky Gal!”

Number Four paddled backward a bit. “Oh! Well, she didn't say where she was going.”

“Er, yes—she passed by here yesterday. She was swimming faster than any turtle I'd ever seen. I called to her, but she didn't answer.”

Bartleby paddled around in a circle. “Which way did she go?”

“I'm not sure. Into the woods I think.”

The woods? Suddenly Bartleby wasn't so sure Number Four was telling the truth. “Lucky Gal wouldn't go there by herself! She's got too much swamp sense.”

“I tried to tell her it was dangerous,” Number Four whimpered. “But she was in quite a state. She kept muttering, ‘I must get away! I must get away!'”

“Away from whom?” Bartleby demanded.

“I don't know. I was so frightened I hid in the mud. I didn't come out until you found me.” Number Four hung his head. “I'm sorry.”

“That red-ear is too ssstubborn for her own good,” Seezer said when Bartleby told him what happened. “Ssshe thinks ssshe is invincible. It's no sssurprise that ssshe's in trouble.”

Bartleby didn't reply. He climbed onto a lily pad and pulled his head into his shell. There was a hollow feeling above his plastron as big and empty as a sky without stars.

“Sssweet Ssswampland!” Seezer's bellow was so loud it made the lily pads sway. “I can't ssstand to sssee you acting ssso mopey. All right! I'll keep an eye out for her later when I go hunting. If your friend is ssstill near this ssswamp, I'll sssend her home. Though ssshe'll probably sssay to mind my own business.”

“Thank you,” Bartleby said, but he still didn't come out of his shell.

“She'll turn up, little bro'. Lucky Gal is too smart to get caught,” Grub whispered. He nudged Bartleby's carapace gently. “You'll see.”

 

On the bank under the willow, Bartleby heard Seezer stirring. He edged his head out of his shell. In the moonlight he could see Seezer stretching his neck and limbs.

“Seezer? Are you going somewhere? Can I come along?”

“Sssertainly not. There's sssomething I must do—alone.”

“I won't get in your way. I'll just look for Lucky Gal. I'll be quiet.”

“No! You must ssstay here.”

“But why? We've always helped each other before.”

“Ssstop nagging! My mission requires that I go sssolo. If I catch you ssspying on me, the consequences will be ssserious.”

Bartleby didn't say another word. He just sank down under the water till he hit the muddy bottom. He felt as if a storm were trapped inside his shell. “Seezer isn't being fair!” he fumed. “He's using his size to be a bully! I don't think he likes Lucky Gal. I'm sure he won't bother to look for her.”

Against his plastron, he felt the water lapping as Seezer's tail swept back and forth. He detected the vibrations of Seezer's feet as the gator climbed out of the water. In his head he counted minnows until he felt it was safe to surface.

Cautiously, Bartleby peeked above the water. He'd never deceived his friend before. But following Seezer into the woods was the safest way he could think of to search for Lucky Gal. Surely, no Claw, Paw, or Jaw would dare come out while a powerful alligator was about.

He glanced at Grub and Number Four. Both alligators seemed to be sleeping soundly. Holding his breath, he swam past them with small, quiet strokes. He hoped he would be in time to pick up Seezer's trail.

Bartleby's throat quivered as he entered the woods. He hated being away from water for long. He couldn't climb a tree, or run fast to escape from danger. But when he heard the whoosh of Seezer's tail sweeping through the undergrowth, he gathered his courage and hurried forward.

In the shadowy moonlight, the limbs of trees seemed to reach down as if they were trying to capture him. The long, eerie strands that trailed from them brushed his carapace like phantom fingers. Bartleby hurried away, climbing over the logs and rocks that studded the forest floor. Everywhere he went, he looked for Lucky. She was smart and strong, but could she really survive among the Claw, the Paw, and the Jaw? He was troubled by thoughts of Seezer, too. What was his friend doing here? What kind of secret was he keeping?

Bartleby was so lost in thought he didn't notice that the whooshing had stopped. He kept trudging onward until he came to the edge of a small clearing between two enormous trees. There was Seezer, snout pressed to the ground, making snuffling noises. Quickly, Bartleby hid under a thorny bush and watched. Using his powerful tail, the alligator swept the earth of leaves and sticks. Then he began turning in circles while he grunted to himself in a low, steady voice. With his powerful back claws, he tore up the dirt.

As he watched, Bartleby was overcome by a strange feeling. His webs began to tingle. His plastron buzzed like a hive of bees. He remembered a time in New York when he and Seezer had been searching for traveling water. They'd been exhausted from walking. They were so dry they couldn't go on. Then it had started to rain long and hard. As the earth beneath their feet turned to mud, Seezer dug a fine hole to collect the water—one wide and deep enough for them to swim in. The next morning, rested and refreshed, they'd been able to continue their journey.

Suddenly Bartleby understood—Seezer was planning to dig a gator hole! Only, instead of waiting for rain to fill it, he was searching for water under the ground. He was going to save them from the dry spell! Bartleby had to stifle a great grunt of joy. He was so excited, he scratched at the earth with his own small webbed feet.

But it wasn't long before Seezer stopped circling. Once more, he pressed his snout to the ground. His short, bowed legs began to shake. In another moment, he collapsed onto his belly. The moan he emitted chilled Bartleby from snout to tail.

“Ssso dry,” Seezer whispered roughly. “Dry as a ssstone. Again!” Then he closed his eyes.

“Oh, no!” Bartleby gasped before he could stop himself.

Seezer opened his eyes. “If sssomeone's out there, you had better beware!” he hissed.

Bartleby held his breath. He hadn't forgotten his friend's warning. He didn't think he could bear to face Seezer's fury if his friend found out he'd been followed.

“As long as Seezer can still get angry, he'll be all right,” Bartleby told himself. As quietly as he could, he backed out from under the bush and hurried away from the disappointed gator.

The next night when Seezer headed to the woods again, Bartleby was ready. Feeling a little braver, he followed his friend more closely. Seezer was nearly as quick on land as he was in the water, and Bartleby couldn't help stumbling, or bumping into rocks and roots, or snapping twigs under his webs as he tramped along. But Seezer was concentrating so hard on his mission that he didn't seem to notice the noise.

This time Seezer stopped in a place where many ferns grew. Bartleby hid behind a tangle of kudzu vine and peered through the leaves. Just as he'd done the night before, Seezer circled and sniffed, circled and sniffed. Then he dropped to the ground.

“Poor Seezer must need a rest. He's been working too hard,” Bartleby murmured. He was determined not to leave his friend alone in the woods again. Quietly, he settled down to keep watch.

But as soon as his plastron touched the earth, Bartleby felt a strange sensation. It was so faint, he held his breath to make sure he wasn't imagining it. Yes—the cool pulsing beneath him was definitely real. It seemed to be calling to him from a deep, dark place.

Bartleby looked at Seezer again. His eyes were glowing. His head and tail were raised. His mighty chest began to swell. “Sssweet Ssswampland, there's water under this ground,” the alligator bellowed. His cry was so loud it shook the ground under Bartleby's webs.

With his great jaws Seezer began tearing at the ferns that grew in the dark soil. When most of them were gone, he began digging furiously. His claws gouged at it. His jaws chomped. His tail mashed and scraped. Dirt showered everywhere like a sudden storm.

Behind the kudzu vine, Bartleby could hardly keep still. Though his nails were small, he could dig. With his hard shell, he could push rocks out of the way, too. He longed to help Seezer find the underground water that could fill a new home. But Seezer had warned him not to follow, and Bartleby wasn't sure his support would be welcomed. Still, as he watched from his hiding place, he couldn't keep from turning round and round, imagining he was excavating a big, deep hole.

By the time the night was almost over, both alligator and turtle were worn out. Seezer's circling and digging became slower. Bartleby's head drooped lower and lower. Finally, Seezer sank down in the middle of the bowl he'd begun and shut his eyes. Bartleby crawled under the kudzu and slept, too.

 

Day after day, Seezer kept on digging. And day after day, Bartleby hid and watched. He wished Lucky Gal could see the home that Seezer was making. If she were here, he was sure she would demand to help. Already, the hole was beginning to look like a pond. All it needed was fresh, sweet water that was waiting deep underground. Surely, Seezer was going to reach it soon—he had to!

Yet Bartleby couldn't help thinking that even the most wonderful new water place would feel empty without Lucky. He still spent short periods searching the woods for her each day. But if he stayed away too long, Bartleby began to worry about Seezer. His friend hadn't eaten a thing since he'd begun excavating. He seemed to be in a trance—one that wouldn't let him stray from the hole until he finished it. He just kept on working until he couldn't scoop out a single clawful more of dirt. Then he would lie down and sleep—but only long enough to regain the strength to dig some more.

One awful night Seezer didn't awaken. Bartleby could hardly breathe as he watched his friend's motionless body for some sign of life. “A sleeping alligator is always as still as death,” he reminded himself. “It's good that Seezer takes a break. Tomorrow he'll be refreshed.”

Bartleby stayed calm while a big spider crawled onto the gator's back, thinking him nothing more than a fallen limb. He stifled a protest as a possum climbed down from a tree to sniff at the long, green body. But when a great horned owl swooped down and poked at his friend with its sharp, hooked beak, Bartleby couldn't stand it anymore.

“That fierce alligator is only sleeping,” he warned. “You'd better flee before he wakes up.”

“Hoo says?” the owl asked.

Bartleby crept out from behind the kudzu. “I do—a red-eared turtle.”

The owl's round yellow eyes alighted on Bartleby. Was she sizing him up for a meal? He drew his head into his shell. But the cautious owl turned her head back to Seezer.

“He looks dead to me, but hoo knows?” She spread her great wings and flew up to a branch overhead.

Bartleby looked up. “You are smart to be careful,” he agreed quickly. “Alligators are a tricky bunch. When they are hungry enough, they fool their prey into coming closer by playing dead. But I suppose you already knew that.”

“Er, yes, of course I did. Owls are wise.” The bird preened her feathers, which were as many shades of brown as the trees in the forest. “But thanks for reminding me. I've two young ones in the nest hoo still need a mother.” She turned her head this way and that, inspecting the landscape with her moonlike eyes. “You should be careful as well. The woods are full of creatures that could make a meal of you. Hoo knows when the next one might appear?”

“You're right,” Bartleby agreed. “I was just going to hide among those rocks when you flew by.”

“In the rock pile? What a hooot! Though I suppose you'll blend in quite nicely.” The owl opened her wings once more. “I must get home to my nestlings.” Silent as a cloud, she sailed off into the night.

Bartleby crawled up to Seezer's head. “She's gone, Seezer. Don't worry about a thing. I'll stay right here and protect you while you get a good rest. You've been working so hard. Maybe I could bring you some food, so you wouldn't have to—”

Seezer's eyes snapped open. They flashed at Bartleby like angry sparks. “You red-eared sssneak! You've been ssspying on me!” he growled without raising his head.

“I only want to help you,” Bartleby explained. “I'll do whatever you ask.”

“Then go away. Ssshove off!”

“All right—I'll return to the swamp. But at least let me bring you back a fish. You need to eat to keep up your strength. Otherwise, you won't be able to finish digging—”

“Sssilence! Didn't you hear me? I sssaid beat it! This is my hole!”

“But I could push rocks out of the way. Or dig with my webs. I want to help make our new home.”

“You ssself-centered creature. This isn't our new home—it's my new home. I've sssupported you long enough.”

Bartleby's throat was pulsing so fast it hurt to speak. “I know you don't mean what you're saying. You're just tired.”