"Oh beautiful Tiger, I love you so,
To you, snif snuffle, my life I owe.
And I'll devote it to songs of praise
And sing, snif, snif, to you, all of my days!"
"Mercy!" gasped Betsy Bobbin. The Hungry Tiger was so embarrassed by the sad singer's ditty that, for a few minutes, he couldn't roar a word. Then, as Carter and Betsy continued to look at him inquiringly, he explained how he had hidden the Rash Singer instead of eating him.
"See!" cried Betsy, turning proudly to the Vegetable Man. "I told you he wouldn't hurt anyone! I think you're just the dearest splendidest tiger I ever—."
"Sh!" cautioned the Hungry Tiger. "Here comes another prisoner. Quick, now, pretend you're afraid of me!" Betsy and the Vegetable Man had just time to crouch back against the wall, when the guards dropped another Rasher into the courtyard.
"It's a barber," whispered Betsy, in an interested voice, and she was right, for clutched in one hand the prisoner had a mug full of suds and in the other a gleaming razor.
"What frightful luck," moaned the Hungry Tiger. "If it had only been a bandit or a robber I could have eaten him without a qualm, but a barber, ugh, he smells of bay rum. Stop that racket, fellow, and let me think!"
And certainly, the poor tiger had plenty to occupy his thoughts, for if things went on in this fashion the underground cavern would soon be full and then what would happen? And how ever was he to get little Betsy Bobbin safely back to Oz? Paying no attention to the terrified squeals of the barber, the Hungry Tiger began to pace restlessly up and down the courtyard, till Betsy, feeling sorry for the frightened little man, ran out and assured him he was in no danger of being eaten.