Bartleby of the Big Bad Bayou (17 page)

“Me?” Number Four swiveled his head and gaped. But he sank down in front of the crotchety old turtle.

“Try not to jiggle too much,” Baskin ordered as he clambered aboard.

 

Like a caravan, the slithering, crawling, hopping creatures of Friendship Hole wound their way through the woods. Plume and Billy flew overhead, stopping in trees along the route. Many of the friends had never been more than a short distance from home before. To them, the towering trees and the vine-wrapped shrubs were unsettling.

Number Four twitched his tail. “We're getting awfully far from Friendship Hole.”

“Yes, too far from water,” Baskin agreed from atop his back.

“Are we lost, little bro'?” Grub called.

“I hate being lost,” Number Four moaned.

“Does Lucky Gal plan to go on leading those gator goons forever?” Big-Big grumbled.

“Maybe we should go back,” Number Four said.

At the head of the line, Bartleby was worried, too. He hadn't forgotten the last fight with Old Stump. He and Grub had helped, but Seezer had taken the brunt of the battle. He'd been the one who'd defeated Old Stump. But what would happen this time? There was so much at stake. And Seezer didn't have all his strength back yet. He needed more time to recover.

“Maybe you should lead them back to Friendship Hole,” Bartleby whispered to Seezer. “I'll go on, and see if I can help Lucky Gal. Maybe I can distract Old Stump and the others while she sneaks away.”

“Even if you did, we wouldn't be sssafe for long,” Seezer replied. “They'll keep on ssseeking Friendship Hole until they find it. And they'll ssspoil our community—just like they did my old bayou. No, we must sssend them away for good.”

Bartleby knew his friend was right. He was still afraid, of course. But Seezer's words made him feel more determined than ever.

“Do you know where Lucky is leading that sssmelly band?” Seezer asked.

Bartleby sniffed and gulped once more. Could it be? With the odor of Old Stump tainting the air, it was difficult to identify other scents. But he thought he detected something familiar—a mixture of fresh and ancient waters tinged with smells that were fishy and fumy.

“I think I do,” he admitted. “If I'm right, it's a water place big enough to keep Old Stump and his gang busy for a long time. But it's also a place that has dangers of its own. We must ask our friends if they are willing to continue.” He leaned close to Seezer's ear slit and whispered something.

“Sssweet Ssswampland, that gal is sssmart!” Seezer exclaimed in a hushed voice. “But you are right—no one's sssafety can be guaranteed. We may have to continue by ourssselves. You had better ask our sssupporters now.”

Bartleby climbed down off Seezer's back and faced the group. “Friends—I have an idea where Lucky Gal is headed. It appears she is leading Old Stump and the others to the river.”

“To the Mighty Mississippi, bro'?” Grub asked. “Ha! That water should be big enough for that greedy group of gators!”

“Yes. But it might take a battle to convince them to stay there. Old Stump is lazy. It would be easier for him to take over a home where the creatures are within easy reach of his jaws.”

Big-Big hopped up and down. “Those gators have Lucky Gal. I'd like a chance to convince them to let her go!” He kicked the air with a strong web.

“You've never been to the Mighty Mississippi,” Bartleby cautioned. “The bank of the river is a dangerous place. It's out in the open. Humans might turn up. Or dogs. Or otters. Even the creatures in the river sometimes emerge in search of an easy meal. There's no telling how this will come out. Some of you may want to turn back now.”

None of the creatures said a word. Not a single one stepped out of line.

“Then we must ssspeed on!” Seezer bellowed. “We must help Lucky Gal before Old Ssstump needs a sssnack.”

Old Stump emerged from the tall grass and saw the Mighty Mississippi. Without a word, he watched the vast, powerful river. His legs stiffened. His tail began to twitch. Suddenly he exploded with laughter.

“Hargh
,
hargh
,
hargh!
You thought you could outsmart Old Stump!” His awful breath nearly knocked Lucky Gal out. “There was once another present who tried to trick the greatest gator of all. He would have become a snack if his friends hadn't saved him. But you don't have any friends here.
Hargh, hargh, hargh!”
With his long, thick tail, Old Stump smacked the mud bank. It missed Lucky's carapace by only the length of a minnow's tail.

“I thought you'd like this water place better than a gator hole,” Lucky said. “The river is more than deep enough for your big gut. And you'd never run out of fish—not even you can eat every one in the Mighty Mississippi.” But her voice no longer sounded as confident as it had in the woods. Her head sagged as if she were very tired. Her wounded rear foot was pulled into her shell.

“Old Stump doesn't want to live in a river!” came the thundering reply. “It's too much work. He'd have to swim in a strong current. He'd have to watch out for humans in boats. He'd have to chase his snacks.” The big bully clamped a claw down over Lucky Gal's carapace. “Old Stump gave you a chance. He was nice to you. But you made him walk all this way for nothing! Well, now he's worked up an appetite. You will be his snack.”

“I walked a long way, too. I'd like a little treat,” Number One said.

“Yes. My stomach is feeling rather empty,” Number Two added.

“All I want is a teeny-weeny bite,” Number Three whispered. “I don't need much.”

Old Stump smacked his jaws. “Of course. You may all go into the river and fish.”

The terrible trio crept out on the flat stone ledge that hung over the river. Silently, they looked down at the thick brown water.

Number One shoved Number Two with his snout. “You go first.”

Number Two pushed him back. “No, you!”

The two gators turned to Number Three. “I'm not diving in there,” he said, backing away.

Old Stump ignored them. “Do you know what, Present? Old Stump is glad he waited to eat you. Red-ear is one of his favorite treats.” He took his claw off Lucky Gal.

“You'd better look behind you,” she said.

“Oh, no. Old Stump isn't falling for another one of your tricks.” He opened his great jaws and caught Lucky between his teeth.

“It's no trick,” said a voice behind him.

Old Stump whirled around. Shoulder to shoulder, Seezer, Grub, and Number Four faced him. Bartleby was on Seezer's back. The rest of the friends were gathered behind them.

“Let Lucky Gal go now!” Bartleby demanded.

Seezer clapped his jaws. “Or this time, I'll finish what I ssstarted.”

Grub snapped his tail. “And I'll help, bro'.”

“S-so will I.” Number Four was shaking so hard, Bartleby thought he heard his teeth rattling.

“You dithering traitor!” Old Stump whipped his tail at Number Four. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Go join your brothers over there!” He flicked his tail toward the three guard gators that were hovering on the rocky ledge.

Still trembling, Number Four stepped forward. His tail dragged along the ground as he turned toward the rock where the others were waiting. Bartleby was disappointed in the cowardly gator, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for him, too.

As Number Four passed by the glowering Old Stump, he raised his yellow-tipped tail as if he were surrendering. Crack! Before the old giant guessed what was happening, Number Four snapped his tail across the great, smelly snout.

“Yeeeeooow!” Old Stump bellowed. As his jaws opened, Lucky Gal dropped onto the mud bank. Dragging her injured web, she scuttled out of reach.

“MY PRESENT!” Old Stump sprang toward Number Four. But before he could sink his jaws into the smaller gator's neck, Seezer leaped between them. Old Stump's teeth bit into Seezer's neck instead. Seezer bellowed and tried to pull away. But the giant gator had him pinned down.

At the sound of Seezer's shriek, Grub jumped on Old Stump's back and bit the gator's tough neck. “Hey, Four! C‘mon, bro'!” he called.

Number Four leaped onto Old Stump's tail. The appendage was like a creature with a mind of its own. It battered Number Four's back. It bashed his skull. But Number Four kept his jaws tightly clenched on it.

Still Old Stump didn't let go of Seezer. Bartleby saw a stream of dark, red blood running down his friend's throat.

“Lucky! The outer toes on his hind feet are his tender spots. You take one and I'll take the other,” Bartleby shouted. He scrambled around the back of the alligator and tried to latch onto the sensitive toe. Old Stump's nails clawed and stabbed at Bartleby. But the red-ear kept trying until he got a firm grip with his jaws. Then he chomped as hard as he could.

“YEEEOOOWWWW!” As Old Stump shrieked, his jaws opened and Seezer rolled free.

Bartleby and Lucky Gal kept on biting down. So did Grub and Number Four. With his webs, Big-Big began smacking the giant gator's snout. Quickfoot jumped on his head. Curly wrapped herself tightly around his neck. Plume and Billy dove down and pecked at his back. Digger and Baskin snapped at his belly.

“LET ME GOOOOOOOOOOO!” Old Stump burst free and began running toward the river. Bellowing, honking, grunting, and croaking, the friends chased after him. When the terrible trio saw them coming, they dove into the water. Number Four gave Old Stump a last bite on the tail—and the reeking gator leaped in after them.

Splash! A great wave slopped over the bank. Below, the water foamed and churned. Then the river began rolling steadily once more.

“Welcome, Cousins,” came a voice from the river. “Won't you come down to the bottom and help me eat the tender young crappie I've caught?”

Under a pink-and-purple sunset, the residents of Friendship Hole gathered on the mud bank. As he gazed at the quiet water, Bartleby felt a contentment he'd never experienced before. He was finally beginning to understand what it meant to be a real bayou turtle. Not that it was easy! Life here was full of challenge and danger. The creatures didn't always get along. But figuring out how to overcome problems and outsmart enemies made Bartleby happy to be alive.

“I want to thank you all for coming to my rescue,” Lucky Gal said. “I thought I might not live to see my eggs hatch.”

“Eggs!” Big-Big leaped up and down on the bank. “Where are they?”

“In a nest not too far away. We must try to keep the Claw, the Paw, and the Jaw far from here until they are hatched. Once the babies get to the pond, we'll be able to protect them.”

“I sssuspect Old SSStump and his gang will ssstay away for a very long time,” Seezer said. “His tender toes will be a sssore reminder of what will happen if he ever tries to sssteal our home away from us.”

“How many eggs are there?” Curly asked.

“Eight.”

“Harrumph! Only eight? A bullfrog mother can lay thousands at a time,” Big-Big boasted.

“Yes, but eight won't crowd our pond. There will still be plenty of room for puffed-up creatures like you,” Quickfoot said as she munched sweetgrass.

“Eight tiny turtles will be able to bask comfortably on my tail,” Grub said.

“Or mine,” Number Four added.

“They can sun with us on our log if they'd like,” Digger offered.

“But only if they're quiet,” Baskin grumbled.

“Quag-quog!
Quag-quog! What will you call them?” Plume honked from the branch overhead.

Lucky Gal turned to Bartleby. “If it's all right with you, I've been thinking that we should let everyone help name them.”

“Yes,” Bartleby agreed. “You will all be their family.”

Big-Big blew a huge bubble under his chin. “I think Little Big-Big is a very good name.”

The creatures of Friendship Hole talked, played, ate, and sang until they grew tired. Then, one by one, they went to their nests, dens, logs, and lily pads to sleep for a while. Together, Lucky Gal and Bartleby settled down in the shallow water among the tall reeds. And as the stars came out, they dreamed of eight little hatchlings with bright red ear patches and brave, true hearts.