"You might take your gun, Nathan," said Mrs. Tarbox, who was stirred by the grief of her friend.
"Oh yes," said Tarbox, sarcastically; "you're very ready to have your husband's life exposed. You'd like to be a widow. Maybe you think I've left you all my property."
"You know, Nathan, I never thought of that. I only thought of poor Mrs. Dunlap. Think how sad it would be if Jimmy and Florence Ann were torn to pieces by the terrible tiger."
There was a fresh outburst of grief from the stricken mother at the heart-rending thought, but Mr. Tarbox was not moved.
"Mrs. Tarbox," said he, "if you want to see Mrs. Dunlap home you can take the gun."
"Oh, I shouldn't das't to," said Mrs. Tarbox, hastily. "I—I shouldn't know how to fire it."
"I think you'd be more likely to shoot Mrs. Dunlap than the tiger," said her husband, derisively.
"Where did you come across the—the monster, Nathan?" asked Mrs. Tarbox, shuddering.
"In the woods. I heard him roar. I ran from there as fast as I could come, expecting every minute he would spring upon me."
"Was there any one else in the wood?"