Afraid that their voices might rouse his anger, the mother stepped to the foot of the stairs and called to her boy,—­

“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.