Tom was so impolite as to make no reply to these pressing interrogatories, but quickly retreated in the direction from which he had come.

“Wife, light the lamp, quick,” said the squire, in the hall below.

Just then a door opened on the other side of the entry where Tom stood, and he caught a faint glimpse of a figure robed in white.  Though it was the solemn hour of midnight, and Tom, I am sorry to say, had read the Three Spaniards, and Mysteries of Udolpho, he rejected the suggestion that the “sheeted form” might be a ghost.

“Who’s there?” called the squire again.

A romantic little scream from the figure in white assured Tom that Miss Susan was the enemy immediately on his front.  Then he caught the glimmer of the light below, which Mrs. Pemberton had procured, and the race seemed to be up.  Concealment was no longer practicable, and he seized upon the happy suggestion that the window opening upon the portico over the front door was available as a means of egress.

Springing to the window, he raised it with a prompt and vigorous hand, and before the squire could ascend the stairs, he was upon the roof of the portico.  Throwing his boots down, he grasped the gutter, and “hung off.”  He was now on terra firma, and all his trials appeared to have reached a happy termination; but here again he was doomed to disappointment.

“Bow, wow, wow-er, woo, row!” barked and growled the squire’s big bull dog, when he came to realize that some unusual occurrences were transpiring.

The animal was a savage brute, and was kept chained in the barn during the day, and turned loose when the squire made his last visit to the cattle about nine in the evening.  Tom was thoroughly alarmed when this new enemy confronted him; but fortunately he had the self-possession to stand his ground, and not attempt to run away, otherwise the dog would probably have torn him in pieces.

“Come here, Tige!  Poor fellow!  Come here!  He’s a good fellow!  Don’t you know me, Tige?” said Tom, whose only hope seemed to be in conciliation and compromise.

If Tige knew him, he appeared to be very unwilling to acknowledge the acquaintance under the present suspicious circumstances, and at this unseemly hour.  The brute barked, snarled, howled, and growled, and manifested as strong an indisposition to compromise as a South Carolina fire-eater.  He placed himself in front of the hero of the night’s adventure, as resolute and as intractable as though he had known all the facts in the case, and intended to carry out to the letter the wishes of his master.

Tom slowly retreated towards the garden fence, the dog still following him up.  He had tried coaxing and conciliation, and they had failed.  As he cautiously backed from the house, his feet struck against a heavy cart stake, which seemed to suggest his next resort.  He was well aware that any quick movement on his part would cause the dog to spring upon him.  Placing his toe under the stake, he raised it with his foot, till he could reach it with his hand, keeping his gaze fixed upon the eyes of the dog, which glared like fiery orbs in the gloom of the hour.