Its shell, broad and
ancient, was fringed with green moss, and its scaly armpits
exposed, were decked with leeches, at which a couple of peetweets
pecked with eager interest, apparently to the monster's
satisfaction. Its huge limbs and claws were in marked contrast
to the small, red eyes. But the latter it was that gave the
thrill of unnervement.
Sunk down nearly out of sight, the Indian slowly reached the
reeds. Here he found bottom, and pausing, he took the rope in
one hand, the tomahawk in the other, and dived, and when he
reappeared he was within ten yards of the enemy, and in water but
four feet deep.
With a sudden rush the reptile splashed into the pond and out of
sight, avoiding the rope noose. But Quonab clutched deep in the
water as it passed, and seized the monster's rugged tail. Then
it showed its strength. In a twinkling that mighty tail was
swung sidewise, crushing the hand with terrible force against the
sharp-edged points of the back armour. It took all the Indian's
grit to hold on to that knife-edged war club. He dropped his
tomahawk, then with his other hand swung the rope to catch the
turtle's head, but it lurched so quickly that the rope missed
again, slipped over the shell, and, as they struggled, encircled
one huge paw.
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