on the table, and served to light up the interior.

"What do you mean to do?" she asked of the boys, as they rushed into her
presence.

"I'm going to load the gun," replied Tom. "I don't know what Jim is
driving at."

The women were naturally alarmed at the persistency of the wild animal in
his demonstration against the dwelling. It did look as if he was bent on
revenging himself for the hurt that had been inflicted. Many of the wild
beasts of India, like the frightful cobra, often show great tenacity in
attacking those from whom they have received injury.

"If the tiger will go away, you had better leave him alone," said Aunt
Cynthia. "Your shot doesn't seem to have hurt him at all."

"Yes, it did," insisted Tom. "I hit him, for he jumped."

"But you only made him more angry; I am afraid we are not through with him
yet."

The rifle was of the old-fashioned, muzzle-loading kind, and Aunt Cynthia
gave what help she could to her nephew, as he began reloading it. From the
powder flask she poured a charge down the barrel, upon which Tom pressed
the conical bullet, wrapped about with a small bit of greased muslin. Then
he had only to place a percussion-cap on the tube, and he was ready for
business.

But before this stage of the proceedings was reached, something startling