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Brave Tom: The Battle That Won, a fiction by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 3 |
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_ Chapter III The shot, however, was a poor one. The bullet struck the tiger, wounding him slightly, but not enough to disable him. Naturally it added to the fury of the beast, and really increased the peril of the people within the humble home, against whom the brute seemed to have formed a strong and curious antipathy. He wheeled about, leaped the fence behind him, galloped a number of paces, and then paused abruptly, with his head up, and stared at the building, as if trying to learn the point whence the shot came, that he might punish the offenders. "Gracious!" exclaimed Jim Travers, "he's going to jump up here and eat us up! Let's run." "Where'll we run?" was the sensible question of Tom. "I'd load up again, but the powder and bullets are down-stairs, and before I could do it he'd be on us, if he means to jump into this window." The halt of the tiger was only momentary. He trotted round to the rear of the house, vanishing from sight for the moment. A brilliant idea struck Jim Travers. "I can do better than that, Tom," he called out, clattering down-stairs. "Come with me, and I'll show you." "Are you going to try to look him in the eye?" asked Tom, following after him, and scarcely less excited than he. "It won't work." But the other lad paid no attention to the inquiry, so flurried was he over his new scheme for frightening off the dreaded beast. The closing of the shutters on the lower floor, as we have explained, cast it in deep shadow. The mother had been so thorough in her work, that all the three rooms were thus obscured. Aunt Cynthia had lit a lamp, which sat 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 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 scheme, that he was warranted in this self-possession. Like the rest, he was startled by the crash against the shutter. He rose to his feet, stared at the window, and, seeing that the beast had not broken through, stooped and resumed fanning the blaze with more vigor than ever. At this juncture Tom called from above,-- "Where is he? I can't see him." He had peered from the front and rear windows without catching sight of the tiger. The reason was evident: the animal was so near the house that he could not be observed without raising the sash and thrusting out the head. It was well the lad was too prudent to do that. Afraid that their voices might rouse his anger, the mother stepped to the foot of the stairs and called to her boy,-- "Keep quiet, Tom! He is somewhere near, but we can't see him any more than you. If we remain still, perhaps he will go away." Jim Travers, having fanned the pieces of wood on the hearth into a crackling blaze, stepped softly to the window against which the tiger had flung himself, and bent his head in close attention. "Mercy!" exclaimed Aunt Cynthia in an undertone, "come away; if he jumps through, he will land on top of your head." "_Sh!_" whispered the boy, holding up one hand as a warning for them to keep silent; "_I hear him!_" So he did. The tiger was trotting back and forth and round the building, evidently seeking some mode of entrance. Clearly he was resolved to punish the inmates for firing at him. All stood still and listened. In the profound stillness the women caught the faint sound made by the velvety feet of the brute in trotting to and fro. He was traced as he made a complete circuit of the house, and then paused at the window where he had attempted to leap through. The low, threatening growl which escaped him sent a shiver through all. Neither of the women dared to stir or speak. They expected every moment that his effort would be repeated with success. And now to the dismay of the two, Jim Travers did an extraordinary thing,--one that almost took away their breath. Running to the fireplace, he caught up the largest brand, with which he hurried to the window, and raised the sash with one hand. "What are you doing?" demanded Aunt Cynthia in consternation. "Never mind me," replied the youth; "I'm all right." And then they literally became speechless when they saw him slide back the bolt which held the shutter in place. It looked as if he meant to open the way for the tiger to enter the house. While thus busy, Jim thought proper to add a word of explanation,-- "There's nothing that wild beasts is so afeard of as fire; that's what I'm going to play on this chap." The women were too frightened to protest. After sliding back the fastenings, Jim stood leaning slightly forward, the torch in one hand, while the other rested against the shutter, which was not yet pushed open. He was listening, and awaiting the opportune moment. He plainly heard the _tip_, _tip_, of those feet, amid which a cavernous growl now and then mingled; but he hesitated, for the tiger appeared to be too far off to spring his scheme upon him. Jim's coolness was marvelous. None was more terrified than he when the beast broke out of the cage, and he was among the most panic-stricken that dashed from the tent and fled homeward. But here he was, like a veteran sportsman of the jungle, awaiting the critical moment with what looked like nerves of steel. He listened with all the acuteness of which he was master, and his keen ears did not deceive him. Suddenly he flung both shutters wide open, and let in the flood of sunshine, which rendered useless the lamp on the table. There was the tiger, no more than a dozen feet distant. The slight noise caused him to stop abruptly and turn his head while walking away. The sight of the lad seemed to whet his fury. He lashed his tail, growled, and, swinging himself lightly round, cautiously approached the daring youngster, as if not quite satisfied with the look of things. Jim leaned farther through the window, and swung his torch round and round, extending it at the same time toward the beast, which paused a few steps off, as if to gather himself for the spring. The lad felt the need of vigor. He whirled the torch harder, and reached farther, shouting,-- "Get out, or I'll burn your head off! Come any nearer if you dare!"-- At this moment Jim, in his enthusiasm, leaned a trifle too far. His feet slipped over the floor, and he sprawled headfirst out of the window. _ |
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