The hour was quite advanced, for the days were long, so that the fastenings of the house were looked to with great care, and Fred went to the same room he had occupied two nights before, the one immediately preceding having been spent at home, as he partly expected the return of his mother.
After saying his prayers and extinguishing the light, he walked to the rear window and looked out on the solemn scene.
Everything was still, but he had stood thus only for a minute or two, when in the quiet, he detected a peculiar sound, which puzzled him at first; but as he listened, he learned that it came from the smoke-house, a small structure near the wood-house.
Like the residence, it was built of old-fashioned Holland brick, and was as strong as a modern prison cell.
"Somebody is in there stealing meat," was the conclusion of Fred; "I wonder who it can be."
He listened a moment longer, and then heard the same kind of growl he had noticed the day before when standing in front of the lion's cage.
Beyond a doubt the king of beasts was helping himself to such food as suited him.
In a twinkling Fred Sheldon hurried softly down stairs, cautiously opened the kitchen door, and looked out and listened.
Yes, he was in there; he could hear him growling and crunching bones, and evidently enjoying the greatest feast of his life.
"Now, if he don't hear me coming, I'll have him sure," Fred said to himself, as he began stealing toward the door through which the lion had passed.