Robert quickly understood that Tarbox was the victim of a practical joke, and did his best to help it along. He had amused himself during his connection with the circus in imitating the cries of wild beasts, and now from his perch in the tree reproduced the howl of a wolf so naturally that Tarbox, hearing it, and knowing no better, thought it proceeded from the throat of the tiger. Of course he increased his speed, expecting every moment that the dangerous animal would spring upon him and tear him to pieces.

"If I only had my gun with me," he reflected in his dismay, "I might be able to defend myself."

He lost his hat somewhere on the road, and breathless and hatless entered his own back door, shutting and bolting it after him, and with disordered look entered the sitting-room where his wife was seated, in a comfortable chat with Mrs. Dunlap, a neighbor.

Tarbox sank into a rocking-chair, and, gasping, stared at the two ladies.

"Good gracious, Nathan!" exclaimed his wife, in a flutter; "what on earth has happened?"

"Was anything chasin' ye?" asked Mrs. Dunlap, unconsciously hitting the mark.

"Yes," answered Tarbox, in a hollow voice.

"Was it the Norwegian giant?" inquired Mrs. Tarbox, apprehensively.

"Worse!" answered Tarbox, sententiously.

"Worse! Do tell. Good gracious, Nathan, I shall go into a fit if you don't tell me right off what it was."

"It was a tiger!" answered her husband, impressively.

"A tiger!" exclaimed both ladies, startled and affrighted.

"Yes, I've had a narrow escape of my life."

"But where did he come from?" asked Mrs. Dunlap.

"Come from? Where should he come from except from the circus? He broke loose and now he's prowling round, seeking whom he may devour.

"O heavens," exclaimed Mrs. Dunlap, terror-stricken, "and my innocent children are out picking berries in the pasture."

"Tigers are fond of children," said Tarbox, whose hard nature found pleasure in the dismay of the unhappy mother.

"I must go right home and send for the children," said the mother, in an agony of apprehension.

"You may never live to get home," said Tarbox.

"Oh what shall I do?" said Mrs. Dunlap, wringing her hands. "Won't you go home with me, Mr. Tarbox? I can't stay here with my poor children in peril."

"No, I thank you. My life is worth something."

"You might take your gun, Nathan," said Mrs. Tarbox, who was stirred by the grief of her friend.

"Oh yes," said Tarbox, sarcastically; "you're very ready to have your husband's life exposed. You'd like to be a widow. Maybe you think I've left you all my property."

"You know, Nathan, I never thought of that. I only thought of poor Mrs. Dunlap. Think how sad it would be if Jimmy and Florence Ann were torn to pieces by the terrible tiger."

There was a fresh outburst of grief from the stricken mother at the heart-rending thought, but Mr. Tarbox was not moved.

"Mrs. Tarbox," said he, "if you want to see Mrs. Dunlap home you can take the gun."

"Oh, I shouldn't das't to," said Mrs. Tarbox, hastily. "I—I shouldn't know how to fire it."

"I think you'd be more likely to shoot Mrs. Dunlap than the tiger," said her husband, derisively.

"Where did you come across the—the monster, Nathan?" asked Mrs. Tarbox, shuddering.

"In the woods. I heard him roar. I ran from there as fast as I could come, expecting every minute he would spring upon me."

"Was there any one else in the wood?"

"Yes," answered Tarbox, smiling grimly. "There's two circus boys there. They clumb into trees. I don't know whether tigers can climb or not. If they can they've probably made mincemeat of the boys by this time."

"It's terrible!" said Mrs. Dunlap, shuddering. "Perhaps my innocent darlings are in the clutches of the monster at this very moment."

And the unhappy lady went into a fit of hysterics, from which she was brought to by a strong bottle of hartshorn held to her nose.

It so happened (happily for her) that her husband at this moment knocked at the door. He had gone home to find something, and failing had come to the house of his neighbor to inquire of his wife its whereabouts. Great was his amazement to find his wife in such agitation.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking about him.

"O Thomas, have you heard the terrible news?" said his wife.

"I haven't heard any terrible news," was the bewildered reply. "Is anybody dead?"

"Our two poor innocent darlings may be dead by this time," sobbed his wife.

"What does it all mean? Where are they?"

"Out in the berry pasture. The tiger may have caught them by this time."

"What tiger?"

"The one that's broken loose from the show."

"I just came from the tent, and they don't know anything there of any tigers breaking loose. Who told you about it?"

"Mr. Tarbox. The tiger chased him all the way home from the woods."

"That is strange. Did you see him, Mr. Tarbox?"

"I heard him roar," answered Tarbox, "and he was close behind me all the way."

"Are you sure it was a tiger?"

"No; it may have been a lion. Anyhow, it was some wild critter."

"O husband, do go after our poor children. And take Mr. Tarbox's gun. I am sure he will lend it to you."

"I may need it myself," said Tarbox, doubtfully.

"Give me a stout stick, and I'll manage," said Mr. Dunlap, who was a more courageous man than his neighbor. "Come along, wife."

"I—I hope, Mrs. Tarbox, we shall meet again," said Mrs. Dunlap, as she kissed her friend a tearful good-by. "I don't feel sure, for we may meet the terrible beasts."

"If you do," said Mrs. Tarbox, with tearful emotion, "I'll come to your funeral."

Somehow this didn't seem to comfort Mrs. Dunlap much, for when they were fairly out of the house she observed sharply, "That woman's a fool!"

"You seem to like to call on her, Lucinda."

"That's only being neighborly. She has no heart or she wouldn't allude so coolly to my funeral. But do let us be getting home as soon as you can."

"I tell you what, Lucinda, I don't take any stock in this cock-and-bull story of a tiger being loose. I heard nothing of it at the tent."

"But Mr. Tarbox said it chased him."

"Tarbox is a coward. But here are two boys coming; they belong to the circus. I will ask them."

Robert and Charlie Davis were coming up the road. No sooner had their enemy fled than they descended from the trees in whose branches they had taken refuge, and started on their way home, laughing heartily at the farmer's fright.

"I say, boys," said Mr. Dunlap, "don't you two boys belong to the circus?"

"Yes, sir," answered Robert.

"What's this story I hear about a tiger having escaped from his cage?"

"Who told you?" asked Robert.

"Mr. Tarbox."

"Did he see him?"

"He said the tiger chased him all the way home."

Both boys burst into a fit of laughter, rather to the amazement of Mr. Dunlap and his wife. Then they explained how the farmer had been humbugged, and Mr. Dunlap shouted with merriment, for Tarbox was very unpopular in that town, and no one would feel troubled at any deception practised upon him.

"Then the children are safe?" said Mrs. Dunlap, with a sigh of relief. "Don't you think I ought to go and tell Mr. Tarbox?"

"No; let Tarbox stay in the house, like a coward that he is, for fear of the tiger. It's a good joke at his expense. That was a pretty smart trick, boys."

"Old Tarbox will feel like murdering us if he ever finds out the truth," said Charlie.

"He feels so now, so far as I am concerned," said Robert. "I am not afraid of him."