“Keep quiet, Tom! He is somewhere near, but we can’t see him any more than you. If we remain still, perhaps he will go away.”
Jim Travers, having fanned the pieces of wood on the hearth into a crackling blaze, stepped softly to the window against which the tiger had flung himself, and bent his head in close attention.
“Mercy!” exclaimed Aunt Cynthia in an undertone, “come away; if he jumps through, he will land on top of your head.”
“Sh!” whispered the boy, holding up one hand as a warning for them to keep silent; “I hear him!”
So he did. The tiger was trotting back and forth and round the building, evidently seeking some mode of entrance. Clearly he was resolved to punish the inmates for firing at him.
All stood still and listened. In the profound stillness the women caught the faint sound made by the velvety feet of the brute in trotting to and fro. He was traced as he made a complete circuit of the house, and then paused at the window where he had attempted to leap through.
The low, threatening growl which escaped him sent a shiver through all. Neither of the women dared to stir or speak. They expected every moment that his effort would be repeated with success.
And now to the dismay of the two, Jim Travers did an extraordinary thing,—one that almost took away their breath.
Running to the fireplace, he caught up the largest brand, with which he hurried to the window, and raised the sash with one hand.
“What are you doing?” demanded Aunt Cynthia in consternation.
“Never mind me,” replied the youth; “I’m all right.”
And then they literally became speechless when they saw him slide back the bolt which held the shutter in place. It looked as if he meant to open the way for the tiger to enter the house.
While thus busy, Jim thought proper to add a word of explanation,—
“There’s nothing that wild beasts is so afeard of as fire; that’s what I’m going to play on this chap.”
The women were too frightened to protest.
After sliding back the fastenings, Jim stood leaning slightly forward, the torch in one hand, while the other rested against the shutter, which was not yet pushed open.
He was listening, and awaiting the opportune moment.
He plainly heard the tip, tip, of those feet, amid which a cavernous growl now and then mingled; but he hesitated, for the tiger appeared to be too far off to spring his scheme upon him.
Jim’s coolness was marvelous. None was more terrified than he when the beast broke out of the cage, and he was among the most panic-stricken that dashed from the tent and fled homeward.
But here he was, like a veteran sportsman of the jungle, awaiting the critical moment with what looked like nerves of steel. He listened with all the acuteness of which he was master, and his keen ears did not deceive him.
Suddenly he flung both shutters wide open, and let in the flood of sunshine, which rendered useless the lamp on the table.
There was the tiger, no more than a dozen feet distant. The slight noise caused him to stop abruptly and turn his head while walking away.
The sight of the lad seemed to whet his fury. He lashed his tail, growled, and, swinging himself lightly round, cautiously approached the daring youngster, as if not quite satisfied with the look of things.
Jim leaned farther through the window, and swung his torch round and round, extending it at the same time toward the beast, which paused a few steps off, as if to gather himself for the spring.
The lad felt the need of vigor. He whirled the torch harder, and reached farther, shouting,—
“Get out, or I’ll burn your head off! Come any nearer if you dare!”
At this moment Jim, in his enthusiasm, leaned a trifle too far. His feet slipped over the floor, and he sprawled headfirst out of the window.
CHAPTER IV.
Jim Travers felt that he was lost. The women uttered cries of anguish, clasped their hands, and almost fainted.
Sometimes, however, a person instinctively does the best thing possible, when, if he took time for thought, he would do the worst.
The antipathy of wild beasts to fire is well known, but it must be remembered that the full degree of this terror is felt only during the darkness of night. The sun was in the horizon when the stirring events we have set out to narrate were going on.
When Jim came tumbling through the window, he held fast to the blazing torch, even while trying to save himself from falling. His dexterity enabled him to keep fair command of his limbs, and he bounded to his feet in a twinkling, at the moment when he expected Tippo Sahib to come down upon him like a clawing avalanche.
Then, instead of turning about and clambering back through the window (the surest means of inviting the attack of the beast), he uttered a shout, and, holding the torch in front, ran straight at the tiger!
It may be doubted whether the fiercest of wild creatures would have withstood such an assault. Even though the sun was shining, the tiger knew something of the meaning of that glowing brand. Wheeling about like a cat, he trotted off, turning his head from side to side, and frequently glancing at his pursuer.
His flight brought him into the field of vision of Tom Gordon upstairs, who had been mystified to understand what was going on below.
“I’ll finish him this time,” was his conclusion, as he flung up the window, thrust the barrel of the weapon through, and dropped on one knee.
But it seemed as if fate held that particular royal Bengal tiger in its special keeping that day. Before Tom could make his aim certain, Jim Travers popped in front, so in line with the beast that the young marksman could not fire at one without risk of hitting the other.
“I daresen’t do it,” he decided, leaning his gun against the wall beside him; “I’m afeard of hitting Jim.”
Although the latter had displayed an extraordinary degree of coolness at a critical point in the events, it must not be supposed that he possessed any unusual share of courage. It was his implicit faith in the blazing torch that inspired him to a daring that few men would have shown; but on the outside he lost his head.
He was hardly conscious of what he was doing when he sat off after the fleeing animal, and there’s no saying what the end would have been, or rather there’s no doubt that he would have feared ill, had not Tom called to him,—
“Come back, Jim! Your torch will soon go out, and then he’ll have you sure!”
“Golly! that’s so!” muttered Jim, stopping like a flash, and dashing for the house again; “I didn’t think of that!”
Good Mrs. Gordon and Aunt Cynthia had recovered in a degree their senses. Unspeakably shocked by the peril of the youth, whose courage they estimated too highly, they shrank from no risk that could aid his final escape. They had not closed the shutter after his mishap, and, when they saw him wheel and run back, they stood by the window ready to receive him.
Jim Travers was a good runner; and when it is stated that he was certain Tippo Sahib was skurrying at his heels, it need not be added that he “surpassed himself” in the way of fleetness. Finding, after running a short way, that the beast was not after him, Jim flung aside the torch and went through the window like a cannon shot, rolling over and striking the other side of the room before his flight was checked. A lad of his years, however, rarely suffers from hard knocks and bumps, and he was on his feet the next moment.
“Shet the window quick!” he called, “or he’ll be in here.”
No need of the appeal, for the mother with deft fingers quickly secured the shutter as before; and but for the lamp, all would have been in darkness again.
Jim darted upstairs to learn how his playmate was making out.
“Why don’t you shoot, Tom?” he called, hurrying to his side.
“’Cause I don’t see anything to shoot at,” was the answer.
“What’s become of the tiger?”
“I guess you scared him off.”
Jim peeped cautiously out of the window.
“That’s so; he isn’t anywhere round, but he was out there a few minutes ago.”
“So was you; but you aren’t there now.”
“I thought he chased me clean up to the winder.”
“He didn’t foller you a single step; when you struck out for the window, he stopped short and laughed ready to die to see you run.”
“The tiger laughed at me!” exclaimed Jim angrily; “who ever heard of such a thing?”
“Well, he looked as though he wanted to laugh, and then trotted down the road; I seen him jump over the fence and make for the woods.”
“That’s where he’s gone! I guess I’ll go home now, while I have the chance.”
“Better wait, Jim, till you’re sure he isn’t round.”
Jim followed this sensible advice, staying to supper, to which he was always welcome.
The women had received so great a shock, that they could not recover from it as quickly as the volatile youngsters. The shutters and doors were kept fastened, and every few minutes they peeped out in quest of the tiger that showed so much enmity toward them. When darkness closed in, however, not the first glimpse had been caught of him, and all began to hope he had taken his final departure. Mrs. Gordon gave her consent that Jimmy Travers should start homeward; and, promising to keep a sharp lookout for the creature, he departed. It may as well be added that he saw nothing more of Tippo Sahib, nor did the animal pay any visit to his home.
“Helloa! the house there!”
This was the startling summons that rang out in the stillness of the night, about two hours after the departure of Jimmy Travers. Mrs. Gordon stepped to the door, and with some misgiving drew it open. The full moon was shining brightly, and she saw two horsemen who had halted in the highway opposite the gate.
“Good-evening!” said the spokesman, lifting his hat in salutation when he observed the woman; “have you seen anything of a strange animal in this neighborhood, madam? We have traced him almost to this spot, but have lost track of him.”
“Do you refer to the tiger that escaped from the menagerie this afternoon?”
“That’s the animal we’re looking for.”
“Yes; he was here late in the afternoon, and tried to jump through the window.”
“Did he hurt any one?” asked the man in alarm.
“No; we did not receive a scratch. My son shot him.”
“What!” exclaimed the other; “did he kill the animal?”
“Oh, no,” answered Mrs. Gordon (who was joined by Aunt Cynthia and Tom), smiling at the fear of the visitors; “my boy is quite young, and isn’t much of a marksman; he thinks he hit the beast—”
“And I did too,” interjected the lad, not pleased with this slur upon his skill with the gun.
“Possibly he did; but he was not injured much.”
“I am glad to learn that. The tiger is one of the most valuable animals we have in the menagerie; I should be very sorry to lose him.”
“But,” interposed Aunt Cynthia, “it may become necessary to shoot him in self-defense.”
“Not likely; he is not apt to injure any one if he is let alone.”
Tom had not forgotten the appalling stories told by Jim Travers on his arrival from the exhibition.
“I heered he chawed up Sam Harper, Jack Habersham, Bill Dunham, and a whole lot of folks that was at the circus.”
The laughter of the two horsemen was hearty.
“Those youngsters are alive and well. The boy who punched the tiger in the eye, and caused all this rumpus, was knocked down and scratched somewhat, but not half as much as he deserved. No one else, so far as we can learn, has been injured; though, as I remarked just now, Tippo Sahib will fight if he is driven into a corner.”
“He tried to jump through our window,” said Aunt Cynthia.
“Before or after you fired at him?”
“Afterward.”
“I suppose it was caused by the hullabaloo of the people, frightened out of their wits. It is the same as when a hue and cry is raised about a dog. If he isn’t mad, he will soon become so. But, madam, we are very anxious to secure the animal before he is killed or seriously injured. We will pay a good reward for his recapture.”
“How much?” asked Tom, to the surprise of his relatives.
“One hundred dollars to any one who will secure him without injury, or fixes it so we can recapture him. May I ask where the tiger seemed to be going when you last saw him?”
“The last we seen of him,” replied Tom, “he was cutting ’cross the field toward the woods over yonder.”
Thanking the boy and the ladies for their information, the horsemen rode off, soon disappearing up the highway.
The fact that these men, experienced in their knowledge of wild animals, were searching for the escaped tiger, naturally lifted much of the fear of the beast from the hearts of the Gordon family. They believed the keepers would recapture him before he could do much harm in the community. They were convinced, too, that they were not the only ones looking for him.
The shutters of all the windows were never more carefully barred than before the three inmates retired to their beds.
Tom Gordon, being a rugged, healthy boy, generally passed the night in refreshing slumber. Not a trace of the ague which kept him from the circus showed itself in his system when he went upstairs to his room; but, somehow or other, after he lay down he could not sleep.
No doubt the excitement through which he had gone so wrought upon his nerves as to drive away all drowsiness; but the thought that was running through his brain found expression in the words:—
“A hundred dollars! What a fortune that is! It would make us comfortable for life. I wonder if there is any way of catching Tippo Sahib before the men find him.
“I don’t believe there’s anything in what Jim said about looking the creature in the eye. S’pose I should meet him in the woods, and fix him that way, what good would it do? I’d have to stand there till the keepers come along, and they might not do that for a week or two. By that time I’d be starved to death, and so would the tiger, and they want him alive.
“Jim must be mistaken, too, ’bout shooting off his tail. Jim and me haven’t got any tails, and we don’t have any trouble in walking. I can’t see how it would make any difference with the tiger, either. I wonder where Jim got all them ideas,—I guess where he got the stories ’bout so many people being chawed up.”
The lad lay for a while on one side, and then flung himself on the other. Several times he was on the point of dropping into an uneasy slumber, but some slight noise always came at the critical moment to make him wider awake than he was in the first instance.
What is more disturbing than the occasional rattle of a window sash when we are trying to woo sleep? By and by Tom discovered it was that which had played the mischief with his rest. He sprang impatiently out of bed, and hurried to the window, with the intention of righting matters.
The bright moon shining from an unclouded sky made it almost as light as day. He stood a minute, looking out upon the beautiful scene; for, young as he was, he could not fail to be impressed by the striking loveliness of everything out-doors.
“I wonder whether they’ve catched Tippo Sahib—”
The lad caught his breath, for just then he saw something moving in the shadow of the woodshed. A second look showed it to be some sort of quadruped, and the third—could he believe his eyes?—revealed the tiger himself!
Yes, it was the terrible brute and no mistake. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked again. Some unaccountable attraction seemed to have brought Tippo Sahib back to the dwelling where he had met with so interesting an experience that afternoon.
But all this being so, Tom Gordon might well ask himself what good the presence of the animal promised to be to him. Hitherto, he and his friends had counted themselves lucky in being able to keep out of his way when he showed a desire to explore the interior of the house. How, then, could he expect to get the hundred dollars offered for the capture
of the brute?
Mingled with the eager wish of the lad to earn the munificent sum, was a slight misgiving as to the meaning of this return of the tiger. Having eluded the men sent after him, had he come back to revenge himself upon those who had treated him so ill?
This discomforting thought was dissipated by the action of Tippo Sahib. He did not move around as on his former visit, but seemed to be prowling about the woodshed, as if in quest of something. Surely he would not act thus if he meditated an attack upon the inmates of the home!
But Tom had learned from his aunt and mother that if the tiger chose, he could readily leap from the ground to the windows of the upper story, and, therefore, would have little difficulty in entering, if he was bent on doing so.
“I’ll get my gun, so as to be ready to shoot him. But if I shoot him, I won’t get the reward that was promised; but it’s better to kill him than to have him chaw us to pieces.”
Just then the animal worked his way round the corner of the structure, out of the shadow, into the bright moonlight. He showed no interest in the house itself, but confined his attention to the woodshed,—a fact which lessened the lad’s fear, and held him at the window, closely watching the beast.
His change of location brought him to the front of the strong wooden building, and near the partially open door.
The heart of the lad gave a great bound.
“S’pose he goes inside, and I slip up and shut him in!”
All the indications pointed to the tiger entering the structure, though it was impossible to imagine his purpose, unless he scented the waste food kept there in a barrel for the pigs belonging to the Widow Gordon.
The attempt the lad had in mind involved a fearful risk; for there could be no doubt that if the beast detected him, he would make him serve for supper.
Probably if Tom had been given a few more minutes to think over the matter, he would have abandoned the design in his mind; but that one hundred dollars looked as big to him as a million does to most people. Hastily drawing on his trousers, he began stealthily descending the stairs. Fortunately for him, his aunt and mother were asleep, else they would have put an emphatic veto on his foolhardy scheme. The bolts of the door were softly slid back, the door itself silently drawn inward an inch or two, and the lad peeped out. His position gave a full view of the front of the woodshed, and the sight was an interesting one. The tiger had partially entered. Indeed, little was seen more than his tail, which, projecting from the darkness of the structure, swayed slowly from side to side, as if he had detected something not altogether pleasing.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 151
