"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?" "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?" "Out in the berry pasture. The tiger may have caught them by this time." "What tiger?" "The one that's broken loose from the show." "I just came from the tent, and they don't know anything there of any tigers breaking loose. Who told you about it?" "Mr. Tarbox. The tiger chased him all the way home from the woods." "That is strange. Did you see him, Mr. Tarbox?" "I heard him roar," answered Tarbox, "and he was close behind me all the way." "Are you sure it was a tiger?" "No; it may have been a lion. Anyhow, it was some wild critter." "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."