But the brave parent not only threw up the window and bolted the shutters, but did it coolly and deftly with each window, front and back, thus shrouding the room in obscurity.

Tom climbed into a chair set in front of the fireplace, and took down the loaded rifle, which he knew how to use as well as any boy of his years.

“Come, Jim, let’s go up-stairs to my bedroom; maybe we can get a shot at him.”

At the top of the stairs the leader paused and turned about.

“Say, Jim, did you try to look in the tiger’s eye?” he asked.

“Don’t bother me with such foolish questions; I hadn’t a chance.”

“How was it?”

“Why, I hadn’t got far from the house, when I heered a growl, and there was the tiger in the field, looking over the fence at me.”

“Seems to me that was just the chance you wanted, if he was looking at you.”

“I s’pose it was; but to own up, Tom, I didn’t think of it.  I was afeard he would go for your folks.  So I thought I would walk down and tell you.”

“Did you walk all the way?”

“I may have hurried a little,—­that is, a part of the way.  I would have turned round and let him have my foot under the jaw, but I was afeard my shoe would give out.”

Meanwhile, the two boys walked softly to the front window of Tom’s bedroom, and cautiously peered out.

“Sh!  I b’lieve I see him,” whispered the young host.

“Where?” asked his companion in the same guarded manner.

“Under the oak; he’s standing still just now.  There! he’s creeping off toward the woodshed.”

“Yes, that’s him! that’s him!  I know it.  Hadn’t you better let me take a shot?”

“I can shoot as well as you.”

Tom was right.  He was looking upon the royal Bengal tiger and no mistake.  He had halted under a large oak, standing on the other side of the road, and seemed to be debating with himself what he should do next.

The rattle of a coming wagon attracted his attention, and he crouched down, as if preparing to spring upon the driver and his animals.

“Just watch him chaw up the horses and the man!” whispered Jim.

“If he means to do that, I’d better shoot,” said Tom, setting down his gun and silently raising the window.

“You can’t do it now, for he’s almost behind the tree.”

“His head shows, and I guess that’s better than his tail.”

Tom rested the heavy barrel of the rifle on the window-sill, and knelt down to make his aim sure.  Before, however, he could obtain a good sight, the old farmer came so nearly opposite that he was obliged to restrain his fire through fear of hitting him or his horses.

The boys held their breath, certain of the awful occurrence at hand.  But the tiger just then seemed to be in a magnanimous mood.  Possibly he was satiated with what he had already devoured in the way of horses, men, women, and children.  Be that as it may, the farmer and his team never suspected their peril, if, in point of fact, any peril threatened them.  The animals jogged along, with the man half asleep on the front seat, his idle whip sloping over his shoulder.  The king of the jungle made not the least demonstration against them.