"Yes," answered Tarbox, smiling grimly. "There's two circus boys there. They clumb into trees. I don't know whether tigers can climb or not. If they can they've probably made mincemeat of the boys by this time."
"It's terrible!" said Mrs. Dunlap, shuddering. "Perhaps my innocent darlings are in the clutches of the monster at this very moment."
And the unhappy lady went into a fit of hysterics, from which she was brought to by a strong bottle of hartshorn held to her nose.
It so happened (happily for her) that her husband at this moment knocked at the door. He had gone home to find something, and failing had come to the house of his neighbor to inquire of his wife its whereabouts. Great was his amazement to find his wife in such agitation.
"What's the matter?" he asked, looking about him.
"O Thomas, have you heard the terrible news?" said his wife.
"I haven't heard any terrible news," was the bewildered reply. "Is anybody dead?"
"Our two poor innocent darlings may be dead by this time," sobbed his wife.
"What does it all mean? Where are they?"