their doors as they passed, but they
took fright and went indoors screaming. There was a lamp in Bob Pretty's
front room, but the door was closed and the 'ouse was silent as the
grave.

"George Kettle and the men with the guns went first, then came the
pitchforks, and last of all the scythes. Just as George Kettle put 'is
'and on the door he 'eard something moving inside, and the next moment
the door opened and there stood Bob Pretty.

"'What the dickens!' 'e ses, starting back as 'e see the guns and
pitchforks pointing at 'im.

"''Ave you killed it, Bob?' ses George Kettle.

"'Killed _wot?'_ ses Bob Pretty. 'Be careful o' them guns. Take your
fingers off the triggers.'

"'The tiger's in your 'ouse, Bob,' ses George Kettle, in a whisper.
''Ave you on'y just come in?'

"'Look 'ere,' ses Bob Pretty. 'I don't want any o' your games. You go
and play 'em somewhere else.'

"'It ain't a game,' ses John Biggs; 'the tiger's in your 'ouse and we're
going to kill it. Now, then, lads.'

"They all went in in a 'eap, pushing Bob Pretty in front of 'em, till the
room was full. Only one man with a scythe got in, and they wouldn't 'ave
let 'im in if they'd known. It a'most made 'em forget the tiger for the
time.

"George Kettle opened the door wot led into the kitchen, and then 'e
sprang back with such a shout that the man with the scythe tried to
escape, taking Henery Walker along with 'im. George Kettle tried to
speak, but couldn't. All 'e could do was to point with 'is finger at Bob
Pretty's kitchen--_and Bob Pretty's kitchen was for all the world like a
pork-butcher's shop_. There was joints o' pork 'anging from the ceiling,
two brine tubs as full as they could be, and quite a string of fowls and
ducks all ready for market.

"'Wot d'ye mean by coming into my 'ouse?' ses Bob Pretty, blustering.
'If you don't clear out pretty quick, I'll make you.'

"Nobody answered 'im; they was all examining 'ands o' pork and fowls and
such-like.

"'There's the tiger,' ses Henery Walker, pointing at Bob Pretty; 'that's
wot old man Parsley meant.'

"'Somebody go and fetch Policeman White,' ses a voice.

"'I wish they would,' ses Bob Pretty. 'I'll 'ave the law on you all for
breaking into my 'ouse like this, see if I don't.'

"'Where'd you get all this pork from?' ses the blacksmith.

"'And them ducks and hins?' ses George Kettle.

"'That's my bisness,' ses Bob Pretty, staring 'em full in the face. 'I
just 'ad a e