"You can't do it now, for he's almost behind the tree."

"His head shows, and I guess that's better than his tail."

Tom rested the heavy barrel of the rifle on the window-sill, and knelt
down to make his aim sure. Before, however, he could obtain a good sight,
the old farmer came so nearly opposite that he was obliged to restrain
his fire through fear of hitting him or his horses.

The boys held their breath, certain of the awful occurrence at hand. But
the tiger just then seemed to be in a magnanimous mood. Possibly he was
satiated with what he had already devoured in the way of horses, men,
women, and children. Be that as it may, the farmer and his team never
suspected their peril, if, in point of fact, any peril threatened them.
The animals jogged along, with the man half asleep on the front seat, his
idle whip sloping over his shoulder. The king of the jungle made not the
least demonstration against them.

"That must be 'cause he isn't hungry," remarked Jim.

"Then I should think he would go away and leave us."

"Don't you understand? We're tender, and juicier than that old man."

"Jingo! if that's what he's after, I'm going to shoot."

Tom again sighted along the barrel; but at the moment his finger began
pressing the trigger, the beast rose to his feet and looked directly at
the house, as if trying to decide the best avenue of entering,--the door,
the windows, or possibly the chimney.