happened.

Jim Travers paid no heed to what his young friend was doing. Stooping over
the burning wood in the fireplace, the flame of which was quite feeble,
because the day was mild, he began fanning it with his hat. He was thus
employed, and Tom was in the act of capping the rifle, when a crash
against the nearest shutter made the building tremble.

The startled inmates stared trembling in each other's faces.

"It's the tiger!" whispered Mrs. Gordon, uttering a truth that was
manifest to every one.

"He is determined to get at us," added Aunt Cynthia. "What shall we do?"

"I'll fetch him this time," was the confident response of Tom, "if I can
only get a fair aim."

"You had better let me have the gun," said his mother, who was in a
momentary panic.

"Let me try it once more."

"But there is no chance here; it will not do to open the shutter: he will
spring right in among us."

"Up-stairs is the best place," said Tom, hurrying up the steps again.

Meanwhile, Jim Travers, who had been so terrified, displayed more coolness
than any one in the house. Probably he felt so much confidence in his new