“Bob Pretty laughed at the whole thing and said ’e didn’t believe there was a tiger; but nobody minded wot ’e said, Bob Pretty being, as I’ve often told people, the black sheep o’ Claybury, wot with poaching and, wot was worse, ’is artfulness.

“But the very next morning something ’appened that made Bob Pretty look silly and wish ’e ’adn’t talked quite so fast; for at five o’clock Frederick Scott, going down to feed ’is hins, found as the tiger ’ad been there afore ’im and ’ad eaten no less than seven of ’em.  The side of the hin-’ouse was all broke in, there was a few feathers lying on the ground, and two little chicks smashed and dead beside ’em.

“The way Frederick Scott went on about it you’d ’ardly believe.  He said that Govinment ’ud ’ave to make it up to ‘im, and instead o’ going to work ’e put the two little chicks and the feathers into a pudding basin and walked to Cudford, four miles off, where they ’ad a policeman.

“He saw the policeman, William White by name, standing at the back door of the ‘Fox and Hounds’ public house, throwing a ‘andful o’ corn to the landlord’s fowls, and the first thing Mr. White ses was, ’it’s off my beat,’ he ses.

“‘But you might do it in your spare time, Mr. White,’ ses Frederick Scott.  It’s very likely that the tiger’ll come back to my hin ’ouse for the rest of ’em, and he’d be very surprised if ’e popped ’is ’ead in and see you there waiting for ‘im.’

“He’d ‘ave reason to be,’ ses Policeman White, staring at ’im.

“‘Think of the praise you’d get,’ said Frederick Scott, coaxing like.

“’Look ‘ere,’ ses Policeman White, ’if you don’t take yourself and that pudding basin off pretty quick, you’ll come along o’ me, d’ye see?  You’ve been drinking and you’re in a excited state.’

“He gave Frederick Scott a push and follered ’im along the road, and every time Frederick stopped to ask ’im wot ’e was doing of ’e gave ’im another push to show ’im.

“Frederick Scott told us all about it that evening, and some of the bravest of us went up to the ‘Cauliflower’ to talk over wot was to be done, though we took care to get ’ome while it was quite light.  That night Peter Gubbins’s two pigs went.  They were two o’ the likeliest pigs I ever seed, and all Peter Gubbins could do was to sit up in bed shivering and listening to their squeals as the tiger dragged ’em off.  Pretty near all Claybury was round that sty next morning looking at the broken fence.  Some of them looked for the tiger’s footmarks, but it was dry weather and they couldn’t see any.  Nobody knew whose turn it would be next, and the most sensible man there, Sam Jones, went straight off ’ome and killed his pig afore ’e went to work.

“Nobody knew what to do; Farmer Hall said as it was a soldier’s job, and ’e drove over to Wickham to tell the police so, but nothing came of it, and that night at ten minutes to twelve Bill Chambers’s pig went.  It was one o’ the biggest pigs ever raised in Claybury, but the tiger got it off as easy as possible.  Bill ’ad the bravery to look out of the winder when ’e ’eard the pig squeal, but there was such a awful snarling noise that ’e daresn’t move ’and or foot.