kept there in a barrel for the pigs belonging to the Widow Gordon.

The attempt the lad had in mind involved a fearful risk; for there could
be no doubt that if the beast detected him, he would make him serve for
supper.

Probably if Tom had been given a few more minutes to think over the
matter, he would have abandoned the design in his mind; but that one
hundred dollars looked as big to him as a million does to most people.
Hastily drawing on his trousers, he began stealthily descending the
stairs. Fortunately for him, his aunt and mother were asleep, else they
would have put an emphatic veto on his foolhardy scheme. The bolts of the
door were softly slid back, the door itself silently drawn inward an inch
or two, and the lad peeped out. His position gave a full view of the front
of the woodshed, and the sight was an interesting one. The tiger had
partially entered. Indeed, little was seen more than his tail, which,
projecting from the darkness of the structure, swayed slowly from side to
side, as if he had detected something not altogether pleasing.

"If he goes in, I'll slip out and hook the door; but, if he comes back, it
won't do to let him see me."

This was the thought that stirred Tom Gordon, as he peered stealthily out
of the crack made by the door. Could he have thought of any way by which
to drive the tiger inside, he would have done so; but there was none. He
could only wait and watch, and hope for a favorable issue of the
undertaking.

It struck him as strange that the beast should stand so long with only his
tail in the outer air. The lad fancied it had disappeared entirely; but at