"O husband, do go after our poor children. And take Mr. Tarbox's gun. I am sure he will lend it to you."
"I may need it myself," said Tarbox, doubtfully.
"Give me a stout stick, and I'll manage," said Mr. Dunlap, who was a more courageous man than his neighbor. "Come along, wife."
"I—I hope, Mrs. Tarbox, we shall meet again," said Mrs. Dunlap, as she kissed her friend a tearful good-by. "I don't feel sure, for we may meet the terrible beasts."
"If you do," said Mrs. Tarbox, with tearful emotion, "I'll come to your funeral."
Somehow this didn't seem to comfort Mrs. Dunlap much, for when they were fairly out of the house she observed sharply, "That woman's a fool!"
"You seem to like to call on her, Lucinda."
"That's only being neighborly. She has no heart or she wouldn't allude so coolly to my funeral. But do let us be getting home as soon as you can."
"I tell you what, Lucinda, I don't take any stock in this cock-and-bull story of a tiger being loose. I heard nothing of it at the tent."
"But Mr. Tarbox said it chased him."