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."