"But tickling's no fair," he cried, still squirming a little.
"All right," I answered, beginning my taming operations, and keeping my eye on him in a way that I think really began to frighten him.
Then he started racing up and down inside the fence, I after him on the outside, until we were both quite out of breath, and then he stood still, and snapped at me between the bars.
We were right by the gate, and while he had his head out, pretending to gnaw my stick, I suddenly let go of it, and slipping through the gateway, rushed up behind him before you could say "Jack Robinson."
"Now you must turn around, and we'll look at each other for a minute, and then you'll give in," I cried, making believe crowd into a corner of the cage.
"But I can't turn round," exclaimed Thad. "I can't get my head out."
"Why, how did you get it in, then?" I replied, stepping up to examine into matters. "Twist it the other way."
Thad thereupon obediently gave a fresh tug, but all in vain; his head remained stuck between the bars like a cow's in the patent stalls.
I was scared then, and never thinking about tigers, took him by the neck, and tried my best to get him free; but I couldn't. Then he set up a very unbeastlike yell, which brought the French cook out of the house, with a bunch of garlic in her hand.
When she saw what had happened, she screamed louder than Thad. The noise they both made together was something frightful, while I ran first one side of the fence, then the other, wondering dismally if we'd have to live in that town always because Thad couldn't get his head out.