in its
special keeping that day. Before Tom could make his aim certain, Jim
Travers popped in front, so in line with the beast that the young marksman
could not fire at one without risk of hitting the other.

"I daresen't do it," he decided, leaning his gun against the wall beside
him; "I'm afeard of hitting Jim."

Although the latter had displayed an extraordinary degree of coolness at a
critical point in the events, it must not be supposed that he possessed
any unusual share of courage. It was his implicit faith in the blazing
torch that inspired him to a daring that few men would have shown; but on
the outside he lost his head.

He was hardly conscious of what he was doing when he sat off after the
fleeing animal, and there's no saying what the end would have been, or
rather there's no doubt that he would have feared ill, had not Tom called
to him,--

"Come back, Jim! Your torch will soon go out, and then he'll have you
sure!"

"Golly! that's so!" muttered Jim, stopping like a flash, and dashing for
the house again; "I didn't think of that!"

Good Mrs. Gordon and Aunt Cynthia had recovered in a degree their senses.
Unspeakably shocked by the peril of the youth, whose courage they
estimated too highly, they shrank from no risk that could aid his final
escape. They had not closed the shutter after his mishap, and, when they
saw him wheel and run back, they stood by the window ready to receive him.

Jim Travers was a good runner; and when it is stated that he was certain
Tippo Sahib was skurrying at his heels, it need not be added that he
"surpassed himself" in the way of fleetness. Finding, after running a
short way, that the beast was not after him, Jim flung aside the torch and
went through the window like a cannon shot, rolling over and striking the
other side of the room before his flight was checked. A lad of his years,
however, rarely suffers from hard knocks and bumps, and he was on his feet
the next moment.

"Shet the window quick!" he called, "or he'll be in here."

No need of the appeal, for the mother with deft fingers quickly secured
the shutter as before; and but for the lamp, all would have been in
darkness again.

Jim darted up-stairs to learn how his playmate was making out.

"Why don't you shoot, Tom?" he called, hurrying to his side.

"'Cause I don't see anything to shoot at," was the answer.

"What's become of the tiger?"

"I guess you scared him off."

Jim peeped cautiously out of