Bartleby poked his head out to peer at the creature again. “But what a pale underside you have.”
“All the better to camouflage myself underwater, Cousin.”
“But what flat, fishy eyes you have.”
“All the better to see in the dark, muddy deep, Cousin. Now come into the water.”
“But what a lot of teeth you have—twice as many in your upper jaw as my alligator friend.”
“Listen!” the strange, long-jawed head said sharply. “You have an alligator pal who is like family to you. I am an alligator, and all alligators are first cousins. Therefore, you and I are cousins, too. Now come into the water and we will get properly acquainted. I am growing tired of waiting.”
Without a word, the peculiar alligator disappeared underwater. As Bartleby stared at the rings of ripples it left behind, the creature suddenly came crashing up through the surface again. It was aiming right for him with its mouth wide open!
Quickly, Bartleby backed away from the edge of the rock. The alligator thing snapped its jaws greedily, but it couldn’t reach him. Before it fell back down into the water, Bartleby caught a glimpse of something strange behind its head. It was a long, narrow body with fish fins and a fishtail at the end.
“You aren’t an alligator at all!” he cried. “You’re a fish!”
“Don’t be silly. If I were a fish, I couldn’t breathe air.” The ugly head popped up again. It opened its mouth and took a few grunting breaths. “See?”
Bartleby wasn’t convinced. “You don’t look like the alligator I know. I think you’re a faker—a big fish faker.”
“I may be a faker, but you’re a liar,” the alligator-headed fish snarled. “Red-eared turtles do not have alligator friends. Red-ears are food for alligators—and for alligator garfishes like me.”
“My friend Seezer is nothing like you,” Bartleby retorted. “He doesn’t eat turtles!”
“Well, I’ll just wait here and see. Perhaps when your friend comes back, he and I will share you for lunch.” The ghastly gar opened its jaws once more and displayed its horrible choppers.
“Yes, I’m all ssset for lunch. And it is looking quite ssscrumptious!” came a voice from behind Bartleby.
“Seezer, you’re back!” Bartleby cried as his friend dove off the rock shelf into the river. In the water below, he saw Seezer’s tail thrash. He heard toothy jaws clash. He felt the water splash and splash. Then everything grew still.
Bartleby eyed the dark, quiet surface. Had the giant gar eaten Seezer before they’d even found his bayou? He felt a deep ache above his plastron as he kept watch. The slow, brown river just kept flowing without any sign of his friend.
He’d nearly given up all hope when a great wave blew up from the water and splashed over his carapace. “Ho, what a sssensational ssscuffle!” Seezer bellowed as he shot up through the surface. “The alligator gar is an enemy worth having. Thank you for keeping it busy until I got here.”
Bartleby swallowed. “You’re welcome. Wh-what happened to it?”
“I’m afraid it escaped. But now that we’ve reached bayou country, I’ll be able to sssharpen my hunting ssskills. The prey here is delightfully dangerous.” Seezer smacked the water with his tail. “Now I have sssweet news. I believe my bayou is through the grass, on the other ssside of the levee, and just beyond the woods. Let’s go.”
3
Homecoming Day
Bartleby followed Seezer through the sharp-edged grass and over the wide, earthy ridge called a levee. Soon the friends came to the brink of a great, dark wood. Trees like silent giants threw shadows over the land. They spread out their branches like great human arms and trailed long, silvery strands from their fingers.
Bartleby’s throat began to pulse. “Giant spiders must live in these trees. Those webs almost reach to the ground.”
“Ho, no!” Seezer flicked his tail up and caught a few strings of the gray, mossy material. “I remember this plant well. My sssweet mother ssstuffed our nest with it to make us ssspecially comfy. It marks this land as bayou country. We are almost home. I am sssure of it.”
It was a difficult crawl through the tangled floor of the woods. Grasses, ferns, mosses, vines, berry bushes, and ivy covered every bit of ground. But as Bartleby pressed his way deeper into the heart of the place that was his true home, something inside him began to awaken. In a pile of dead leaves, his webs sensed the vibrations of a snake that was hiding, and he plodded away as fast as he could. When he came upon a patch of pointy, yellow-green shoots poking up from the forest floor, he knew before he bit into one that it would be tender and good to eat. He even thought he recognized the bitter-sweet scent of bayou water ahead, although he couldn’t see it.
Without warning, they came upon a slow, quiet stream that was carpeted with tiny green leaves and dotted with yellow flowers. All along the banks, trees dipped their branches into the bayou as if they were reaching for a cool drink. It was the most beautiful water place Bartleby had ever seen. Yet it was strangely still. Although he listened, he didn’t hear birds calling in the trees or squirrels skittering through the brush. Even the air seemed to be without flies or mosquitoes.
“Is this our bayou?” Bartleby whispered.
“Sssweet Ssswampland, this is it!” Seezer’s black eyes sparkled.
“Then where is your family?”
“Bayou creatures are ssshy and careful. But they will sssurely appear when they learn who I am.”
Bartleby was eager to try the bayou water. But he also felt a bit wary. He didn’t want to run into another gruesome gar. “That blanket of green covering the surface is a good place for hiding in.”
Seezer snorted. “No one here would ssseek to harm me. Climb on my back and we’ll take our first bayou ssswim together.”
Bartleby pulled himself onto his friend’s rough hide. Together they slid into the water. It was soft and slick against Bartleby’s webs, and warm in just the right way.
“Ahhhh.” Seezer sank down deeper. He raised his head and tail, sucking in a big breath of bayou air. “Sssisters, brothers, it is me, Ssseezer,” he bellowed. “I’m home! Won’t you come and sssay hello to your long-lost relative?”
“That depends. Are you going to share your lunch, bro’?” a voice asked.
Seezer whirled around so fast, Bartleby had to dig his nails in to keep from flying off. Suddenly they were snout to snout with another alligator.
“Sssalutations—are you my brother?” Seezer asked.
The gator gazed at Bartleby with its mouth hanging open. It was so skinny Bartleby could practically see its ribs. “I could be your bro’—if you’re willing to share that meal on your back. We could scarf him down together,” the scrawny creature answered.
“I am thankful to meet sssome kin at last,” Seezer replied. “But this red-ear is no sssnack. He is my friend, Bartleby.”
The other alligator eyed Seezer. “Well, a friend wouldn’t want you to go hungry, would he? I’m sure he won’t mind filling our bellies, bro’.”
Bartleby snapped into his shell. It seemed like the creatures here had a funny way of being friends.
“Sssorry. Where I come from, we don’t ssswallow friends.” Seezer began paddling away.
But the hungry creature followed after him. “I thought you said this bayou was your home, bro’.”
Seezer flicked his tail back and forth. “It is true that I was born here. But I was only a youngster when I was caught in a sssnare and sssent all the way to New York. There I ssstayed in a tank until a human dumped me in a pond. Bartleby and I ssswam back here together.”
The other alligator slapped his tail against the water. “Woo-hoo, bro’—I’ve never heard of New York. But it sounds far away! Now let me see—” He glided back and forth, inspecting Seezer from one end to another. “Beautiful, jagged teeth like mine ... cute little sneaky eyes like mine ... big tough scutes like mine ... and—what happened to your tail?”
“I lost sssome of it in a ssscuffle. Bu
t there’s ssstill enough left to ssstave off enemies.” Seezer whipped his tail back and forth to prove it.
His friend hadn’t exactly told the truth, Bartleby knew. Seezer’s tail had been run over by the wheels of a truck while he was helping Bartleby cross a great road. The memory gave the red-ear a pain above his plastron.
“That sure must have been some fight, bro’. But if you weren’t missing the tip of your tail, we’d be the same size—which could mean we’re the same age. We might even be from the same clutch of eggs.” The gator bumped up against Seezer’s side in a friendly way. “Welcome home, bro’. Mama named me Grub because I like to eat and I like to dig.”
“Sssweet Ssswampland—so do I! Mama always sssaid digging runs in our family.” Seezer swung his head back and forth, gazing from shore to shore. “Where is Mama? Where are our other sssiblings?”
Grub sank down lower in the water. His black eyes lost their shine. “They’ve all gone. I’m afraid I’m the only one left here.”
Seezer clapped his jaws together. “No Mama? No sssiblings? Why would they leave our home? Ours was the sssweetest in all of bayou country.”
“It was getting crowded. Chow was becoming scarce.”
“But I remember the fish practically ssspringing into our jaws,” Seezer protested. “Besides, the members of our family were the most ssskilled hunters and fishers of all. We always had food to ssspare.” For a moment he closed his eyes. Bartleby could feel him trembling. Silently, the red-ear patted his friend’s back with a web. He knew how much Seezer had looked forward to rejoining his family.
Grub shifted his gaze upstream. “We have some real good eaters here, bro’. Real big ones, too.” He pointed his bumpy snout toward Bartleby. “Hey, Lunch. Did you really swim all the way from up north?”
Bartleby held his head high. “Yes, I did, bro’. And my name isn’t Lunch—it’s Bartleby.”
Grub chortled. “You’ve got spunk, red-ear. But Old Stump’s rules are very strict. And one of his rules is, ‘Bring him anything you catch.’” He glanced around before he whispered, “But my rule is, ‘Swallow anything you can catch before Old Stump sees it.’”
Bartleby gulped. “Who is Old Stump?”
“He’s the biggest alligator in this bayou—the strongest and the meanest, too.” Grub darted another look upstream. “Who was the biggest in your bayou up north?”
“Seezer was,” Bartleby replied quickly. He didn’t add that there hadn’t been any other alligators in their pond.
Grub flicked the water with the tip of his tail. “Wow, bro’! You must be strong, ’cause you’re not that long.”
Seezer smashed the water with his tail. The crack it made echoed over the water. “Ssstrong enough.”
Bartleby waggled his little tail back and forth. “Seezer’s not afraid of any creature,” he bragged. He stretched out his neck and gazed at the quiet, sunny banks on either side of the stream. “Where are all the red-eared turtles? I thought there would be many of my kind here.”
“Red-ears? Quite a few have, er, gone to lunch.” Grub bumped up against Seezer once more, nearly throwing Bartleby into the water. “I’m about ready for a bite—aren’t you?”
Seezer gave his jaws a snap that made Grub back away. “Ssstop your ssshenanigans,” he growled.
“Okay, bro’, I’ll wait.” Grub turned himself upstream. “See the great oak tree in the distance? The tall one at the edge of the water with a big knot in its middle? Old Stump’s cave is just under the bank there. We’ll have to ask him what to do with Lunch—that is, Bartleby.”
Clinging tightly to Seezer’s hide, Bartleby edged closer to the gator’s ear. “What to do with me—what does that mean?” he whispered. He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking.
“Sssurely, after ssso much ssswimming, I am as ssstrong as any gator here,” Seezer hissed. “Just ssstay on my back and I’ll protect you.” He paddled closer to Grub. “Yes, I’d like to sssee this great gator for myself. Let’s ssswim over there.”
Side by side the alligators began gliding upstream.
“Wh-why is he called Old Stump?” Bartleby asked.
“Because he’s thick as an old tree, and as stubborn to uproot as an old stump.” Grub reached his tail across Seezer’s back. He gave Bartleby a little shove that almost knocked the red-ear into the water. “Not like you.”
“Quit it!” Bartleby snapped. He was holding on to Seezer so tightly, his webs had cramps. But his insides ached even worse. He wished he’d never come here. How could this big bad bayou be home?
4
Old Stump
From a distance, Bartleby could see four tree trunks lying in a line along the bank. He wondered if Old Stump had lashed them down with his powerful tail or chewed them down with his spiky teeth. But as he got closer, he realized that the tree trunks were really alligators. The biggest ones he’d ever seen.
“Seezer, look over on that shore,” he whispered. “Perhaps those gators are relatives of yours.”
Seezer turned his head to see. “Sssweet Ssswampland! I hope they are relatives and not enemies.” He took a long, deep breath. “Well, we will sssoon sssee. I sssuppose we have no choice.”
When they were close enough, Grub called, “Excuse me, Great Gators. I’ve brought a guest to see Old Stump. Please—if you don’t mind. And if he’s not too busy.”
The giant alligators all turned their heads toward Grub at once. “Of course he’s busy,” said the first one.
“Why should Old Stump want to see him—or you?” the second one asked.
The third one narrowed his eyes to a slit. “What’s he doing in our water?”
And the fourth one hissed, “If he wants to see Old Stump, he’d better hand over that snack on his back.”
Grub sank a little lower in the water. “But, Great Gators, my companion is no ordinary alligator. He’s come all the way from a place called New York.”
The first gator opened his jaws and yawned. His deep, dark throat reminded Bartleby of a cave—one he definitely did not want to explore. “Where’s that?”
“Many rivers away,” Seezer replied. “Ssso far away, it’s where the geese fly to have their goslings each ssspring.”
“Ha. No alligator can swim that far.”
Seezer snapped his jaws together sharply. The crack they made caused the four great gators to twitch their tails. “Perhaps no alligator you know. But I am Ssseezer of the Mighty Mississippi. This ssstream is my home, too. It’s where I was hatched.”
“Seezer and I were probably even nest mates,” Grub added. “Don’t we look like bro’s?”
All four big gators snorted loudly.
“I’ll tell you what. Since we’re kin, I’ll let you give us that snack on your back,” the first gator hissed. He slithered down the bank toward Seezer.
“I’m not a snack—I’m a present. But not for you!” Bartleby had had enough of these giant goons. “I don’t think Old Stump would like it if he knew you were thinking of keeping me. You’d better go and tell him that we’re here. Right now!”
The gators swung their heads together and grumbled to one another. The sounds they made were like distant thunder. “All right, all right. I’ll go,” Number Four said loudly. He skulked down the bank, dragging his tail, which had a single band of yellow at the tip.
“Hey, little bro’,” Grub whispered to Bartleby. “That was very brave. Even if I could eat you, I might not. Too bad Old Stump’s always hungry.”
“Er, thank you.” While they waited for the reply, Bartleby thought about his little pond in New York. Even in that cozy water place, the Claw, the Paw, and the Jaw had always been near. During the time he’d lived there, Bartleby had been captured by a raccoon, stalked by a snake, and mauled by a fox. But no enemy had been so big or powerful that it ruled all the others. Only when he’d lived in a tank had there been a boss—his boy, Davy.
Suddenly the bayou began to sway. Waves splashed over the alligators’ backs. Deep in the woods, b
irds began crying their alarm.
“Is a storm coming?” Bartleby asked.
“That is no ssstorm,” Seezer replied as a massive creature broke through the water. It was a murky, dark green like the color of old mold. Its teeth looked as sharp and curved as fishhooks. The scutes on its back were as pointy as thorns. Its tail was almost as long as Seezer! When it opened its mouth, a rotten smell drifted into the air.
“Old Stump thanks you for the present. You may leave it in the water. Now go home.” The giant gator’s voice was low and slow. He definitely sounded irritated.
“But I am home,” Seezer told the smelly giant. “I was born in this bayou, and I have ssswum many traveling waters to return here. Ssso has Bartleby.”
“Well, you can ssswim right back where you came from. Old Stump doesn’t care,” the bull gator said mockingly. He waved his amazingly long tail. “Come on, Present. Old Stump will take you to his cave and add you to his stock of goodies.”
“You can’t sssend me anywhere,” Ssseezer insisted. “My mother and all of my sssiblings lived here, although I don’t know what happened to them. But I plan to ssstay—and ssso does Bartleby.”
“Nonsense! There are already enough alligators in Old Stump’s bayou—too many. Look! They are all starving. They haven’t enough to eat.” Old Stump cast a pitying glance at the gators on the bank.
“It’s true, bro’. He doesn’t leave a morsel around for any of us,” Grub murmured. “Though I think his four guards sneak some of his food when he’s not in his cave.”
Bartleby’s throat began to quiver. Probably the greedy old gator had eaten all the red-eared turtles that used to live here. That must be why he hadn’t seen a single one.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Seezer said. “I sssurvived in a place much less hospitable than this one. I ssshall be glad to hunt my own sssupper.”
Old Stump emitted a long, stinking hiss. “Old Stump doesn’t like you. You think you are special because you have traveled so far. You think you are strong and clever. But you are no match for me. Now hand Present over and get going!”
Bartleby of the Big Bad Bayou Page 2
