reached his ears when he was a few feet farther off, Tom would have turned
and fled for life. He would have done so now but for his belief that it
was too late. He could only save himself by shutting that door before the
beast came through it.

Holding his breath, the lad seized the handle, and with a quick flirt drew
the door toward him. The strong iron hook was slipped into the staple, and
he had done all he could. Yielding then to the panic which had been
struggling so long within him, he bounded upon the front porch, shot
through the door, and closed and fastened it in a twinkling. Not even then
did Tom feel safe, but bounded up-stairs with so much haste and noise,
that the wonder was he did not awaken his aunt and mother. They slept too
soundly, however, to be disturbed.

He ran to the window of his bedroom, and looked out again, fearing that
the royal prisoner had already freed himself and would proceed to punish
the one that had taken such liberties with him. Strange to say, everything
looked as if there was no tiger within a score of miles. The door of the
woodshed was fastened as it had been many times; but no noise or
disturbance, so far as the lad could judge, sounded from within the
structure. The prisoner seemed to have accepted his misfortune
philosophically, and, perhaps, had lain down to rest himself after his
stirring experiences of the afternoon.

"I wonder if he can get out of there. It's pretty strong, and there isn't
any back-door or window that he can use."

The youth was so deeply interested in the question that he brought his
chair beside the window and sat down to await results. It was not strange,
perhaps, considering the lateness of the hour, that the sleep which he had