"Gosh," Ned exclaimed. "A turtle did that?" "You seen him do it. Snapped the barb clean off, too." "You better watch out, Mr. Tadpole. I think you got that turkle so mad he just might come back lookin' for you." Peeler cut the hook from the line and handed it to Ned. "Show that to your dad," he said. "Now you got a real fish story of your own and the evidence to go with it." They talked and joked all the way home, but Ned's mind was on the turtle. He kept seeing that powerful neck, the black, blank eyes and those defiant jaws spitting his hook back at him. A turtle that big and that strong—yes, maybe there were a few big fish in that little pond. He thought again of what he had seen moving out in the middle of the water—it must have been bigger than Ned himself. When Ned went into the house and held up his catfish, his mother shrieked. His father came running, but when he saw what it was all about he laughed and insisted on taking a snapshot of the boy and his prize catch. Ned told them all about the fishing expedition and his parents listened attentively.
