“They ain’t a-goin’ to be nobody hurt,” expostulated the circus owner. “I’ll take care of that.”
By the circus man’s side stood a young man who had been studying the treed tiger. At this moment the boy spoke to the circus proprietor, who gave immediate signs of surprise. Then the boy seemed urging something, and while the man stood as if perplexed, the lad turned and hurried away on a run.
“It’s Master Willie Bonner, the Aviator,” exclaimed Art.
“I reckon he’s goin’ back to the show to give his cloud-piercin’ exhibition,” suggested Wart Ware. “It’s nearly five o’clock.”
“Not much,” exclaimed Alex Conyers. “The show people ain’t a-goin’ to bother about free shows while their two thousand dollar tiger’s loose.”
Marshal Walter was still arguing with the showman but the latter seemed to be having his way with the official, for the marshal made no effort to shoot the animal. The crowd grew larger. Everyone wanted to know why the tiger was in the tree? Why he was not somewhere else? Had he killed any one? Why didn’t some one do something!
The Elm Streeters kept together and as far from Marshal Walter as was consistent with keeping in the crowd. At this point Mr. Trevor’s automobile appeared on the edge of the crowd. It was recognized by the boys and all knew what it meant. Much excited, Mr. Trevor sprang out of the machine and Art hastened forward.
“You should have gone home at once, Arthur. Where’s the tiger?”
When he had been shown the beast he rounded up the children of his neighbors and crowded them into the automobile. “We’ll wait a few minutes, boys,” he explained, “to see what happens. I guess we can get away all right if his Royal Bengal Highness takes a notion to come down.”
There was continued debate between the circus proprietor and the excited marshal, during which the still increasing number of spectators edged nearer the tree and the tiger. Finally it moved, got upon its feet and raised the upper part of its body along the tree trunk as if to examine the broken tree top.