“Golly!” the other exclaimed, adding: “I happen to know it’s a blind tiger.”
Laurence’s jaw dropped, and he stared at the man incredulously. “Wha-wha’d you say?”
“Listen,” the man returned. “How long’s all this been goin’ on in there?”
“Just since they went in there. It was just a little while ago. Wha’d you say about——”
But he was interrupted. Several other passers-by had paused, and they began to make interested inquiries of the first two.
“What’s the trouble in there? What’s going on here? What’s all the shooting? What’s——”
“There’s something pretty queer goin’ on,” said the man who had spoken to Laurence; and he added: “It’s a blind tiger.”
“Yes, I know that,” another said. “I was in there once, and I know from my own eyes it’s a blind tiger.”
Laurence began to be disconcerted.
“ ‘A blind tiger’?” he gasped. “A blind tiger?” What caused his emotion was not anxiety for the safety of his friends; the confident importance with which they had entered the place convinced him that if there actually was a blind tiger within, they were perfectly aware of the circumstance and knew what they were doing when they entered the animal’s presence. His feeling about them was indefinite and hazy; yet it was certainly a feeling incredulous but awed, such as any one might have about people well known to him, who suddenly appear to be possessed of supernatural powers. “Honest, d’you b’lieve there’s a blind tiger in there?” he asked of the man who had confirmed the strange information.