“Tiger,” she said, going down on her knees, and looking full into his ugly but intelligent face, “Nan and I want to go out of this.”
Tiger wagged his stumpy tail.
“We are hungry, Tiger, and we want something to eat, and you’d like a bone, wouldn’t you?”
Tiger’s tail went with ferocious speed, and he licked Annie’s hand.
“There’s no use going back that way, dear dog,” continued the girl, pointing with her arm in the direction they had come. “The door is fastened, Tiger, and we can’t get out. We can’t get out because the door is shut.”
The dog’s tail had ceased to wag; he took in the situation, for his whole expression showed dejection, and he drooped his head.
It was now quite evident to Annie that Tiger had been here before, and that on some other occasion in his life he had wanted to get out and could not because the door was shut.
“Now, Tiger,” said Annie, speaking cheerfully, and rising to her feet, “we must get out. Nan and I are hungry, and you want your bone. Take us out the other way, good Tiger—the other way, dear dog.”
She moved instantly toward the little passage; the dog followed her.
“The other way,” she said, and she turned her back on the long narrow passage, and took a step or two into complete darkness. The dog began to whine, caught hold of her dress, and tried to pull her back.