"The lion sprang through the air among the terrified group."—(See page 71.)
CHAPTER VIII. A DAY OF EXCITEMENT IN TOTTENVILLE.
If any of our readers were ever so unfortunate as to be in the neighborhood of a menagerie of animals when one of the fiercest has broken loose he can form some idea of the confusion, terror and consternation caused by the escape of the lion from his cage.
Strong men rushed headlong over each other; parents caught up their children and struggled desperately to get as far as possible from the dreadful beast; the other animals uttered fierce growls and cries; women and children screamed and fainted; brave escorts deserted young ladies, leaving them to look out for themselves, while they joined in the frantic struggle for life; some crawled under the wagons; others clambered upon the top, and one man, original even in his panic, scrambled into the cage just vacated by the lion, intending to do his utmost to keep the rightful owner from getting back again.
Could any one have looked upon the exciting scene, and preserved his self-possession, he would have observed a burly boy climbing desperately up the center pole, never pausing until he reached the point where the heavy ropes of the canvas converged, when he stopped panting, and looked down on what was passing beneath him.
The name of that young man was Bud Heyland.
Among the multitude that swarmed through the entrance to the tent, which was choked until strong men fought savagely to beat back the mad tide, were three boys who got outside safely on their feet, and, drawing in their breath, broke into a blind but very earnest run that was intended to take them as far as possible from the dangerous spot.
They were Jimmy Emery, Joe Hunt and Fred Sheldon.
The last-named saw the lion make a tremendous bound, which landed him almost at his feet, and Fred was sure it was all over with him; but he did not stand still and be devoured, but plunged in among the struggling mass and reached the exterior of the tent without a scratch.
High above the din and tumult rose the shout of the principal showman:
"Don't kill the lion! Don't kill the lion!"
It was hard to see the necessity for this cry, inasmuch as the danger seemed to be altogether the other way, but the one who uttered the useless words was evidently afraid some of the people would begin shooting at the beast, which was altogether too valuable to lose, if there was any way of avoiding it.
It may be, too, that he believed a general fusillade, when the confusion was so great, would be more perilous to the people than to the lion.
There is reason in the belief that, as some scientists claim, there is a sense of humor which sometimes comes to the surface in certain animals, and the action of the Numidian lion when he broke out tended to confirm such a statement.
He seemed to forget all about the sharp cut he had received across the nose and eyes the moment he was clear of his cage and to enjoy the hubbub he created.
Had he chosen he could have lacerated and killed a score of children within his reach, but instead of doing so he jumped at the terrified crowd, striking them pretty hard blows with his fore paws, then wheeling about and making for another group, who were literally driven out of their senses by the sight of the brute coming toward them.
One young gentleman who was with a lady left her without a word, and, catching sight of a small ladder, placed it hastily against the center pole and ran rapidly up the rounds, but the ladder itself stood so nearly perpendicular that when he reached the top and looked around to see whether the king of beasts was following him, it tipped backward, and he fell directly upon the shoulders of the lion, rolling off and turning a back somersault, where he lay kicking with might and main, and shouting to everybody to come and take him away.
The brute paid no attention to him except to act in a confused manner for a minute or two, when he darted straight across the ring to an open space in the wall of the tent, made by some men who had cut it with their knives. The next moment he was on the outside.
The bewilderment and consternation seemed to increase every minute, and did not abate when the lion was seen to be galloping up the road toward a forest, in which he disappeared.
A number of the show people ran after him, shouting and calling continually to others to keep out of his way and not to kill him.
The beast had entered a track of dense woodland, covering fully a dozen acres, and abounding with undergrowth, where it was probable he could hide himself for days from his would-be captors.
The incident broke up the exhibition for the afternoon, although it was announced that it would go on again as usual in the evening, when something like self-possession came back to the vast swarm of people scattered through the village and over the grounds, it was found that although a number had been severely bruised and trampled upon, no one was seriously injured, and what was the strangest fact of all, no one could be found who had suffered any hurt from the lion.
This was unaccountable to nearly every one, though the explanation, or partial one, at least, appeared within the succeeding few days.
Had the lion been able to understand the peril into which he entered by this freak of his it may be safely said that he would not have left his cage, for no sooner had the community a chance to draw breath and realize the situation than they resolved that it would never do to allow such a ferocious animal to remain at large.
"Why, he can hide in the woods there and sally out and kill a half dozen at a time, just as they do in their native country," said Archie Jackson, discussing the matter in the village store.
"Yes," assented a neighbor; "the lion is the awfulest kind of a creature, which is why they call him the king of beasts. In Brazil and Italy, where they run wild, they're worse than—than—than a—that is—than a steam b'iler explosion."
"We must organize," added the constable, compressing his thin lips; "self-protection demands it."
"I think we had better call on the Governor to bring out the military, and to keep up the hunt until he is exterminated."
"No need of calling on the military, so long as the civil law is sufficient," insisted Archie. "A half-dozen of us, well armed, will be able to smoke him out."
"Will you j'ine?" asked one of the neighbors.
The constable cleared his throat before saying:
"I've some important business on my hands that'll keep me pretty busy for a few days. If you will wait till that is over, it will give me pleasure—ahem!—to j'ine you."
"By that time there won't be any of us left to j'ine," said the neighbor with a contemptuous sniff. "It looks very much, Archie, as though you were trying to get out of it."
The constable grew red in the face at the general smile this caused, and said, in his most impressive manner:
"Gentlemen, I'll go with you in search of the lion; more than that, gentlemen and fellow-citizens, I'll lead you."
"That's business; you ain't such a big coward as people say you are."
"Who says I'm a coward—show him to me——"
At this moment one of the young men attached to the menagerie and circus entered, and when all became still said:
"Gentlemen, my name is Jacob Kincade, and I'm the keeper of the lion which broke out to-day and is off somewhere in the woods. He is a very valuable animal to us, we having imported him directly from the Bushman country, at a great expense. His being at large has created a great excitement, as was to be expected, but we don't want him killed."
"Of course not," said Archie Jackson, who echoed the sentiment of his neighbors, as he added, "You prefer that he should go raging 'round the country and chaw us all up instead. My friend, that little scheme won't work; we're just on the point of organizing an exploring expedition to shoot the lion. Our duty to our wives and families demands that we should extirpate the scourge. Yes, sir," added Archie, rising from his chair and gesticulating like an orator, "as patriots we are bound to prevent any foreign monsters, especially them as are worshiped by the red-coats, to squat on our soil and murder our citizens. The glorious American eagle——"
"One minute," interrupted Mr. Kincade, with a wave of his hand. "It isn't the eagle, but the lion we are considering. The menagerie, having made engagements so far ahead, must show in Lumberton to-morrow evening, but two of us will stay behind to arrange for his recapture. Bud Heyland, whose home is in this vicinity, and myself would like to employ a dozen of you to assist. You will be well paid therefor, and whoever secures him, without harm, will receive a reward of a hundred dollars."
While these important words were being uttered, Archie Jackson remained standing on the floor, facing the speaker, with his hand still raised, as if he intended resuming his patriotic speech at the point where it had been broken in upon.
But when the showman stopped Archie stood staring at him with mouth open, hand raised and silent tongue.
"Go on," suggested one at his elbow.
But the constable let his arm fall against his side, and said:
"I had a good thing about the emblem of British tyranny, but he put me out. Will give a hundred dollars, eh? That's another matter altogether. But I say, Mr. Kincade, how shall we go to work to capture a lion? That sort of game ain't abundant in these parts, and I don't think there's any one here that's ever hunted 'em."
Old Mr. Scrapton, who was known to be the teller of the most amazing stories ever heard in the neighborhood, opened his mouth to relate how he had lassoed lions forty years before, when he was hunting on the plains of Texas, but he restrained himself. He thought it best to wait till this particular beast had been disposed of and was out of the neighborhood.
"I may say, gentlemen," added the showman, with a peculiar smile, "that this lion is not so savage and dangerous as most people think. You will call to mind, although he broke loose in the afternoon, when the tent was crowded with people, and when he had every opportunity he could wish, yet he did not hurt any one."
"That is a very remarkable circumstance," said the constable, in a low voice, heard by all.
"I am warranted, therefore," added Mr. Kincade, "in saying that there is no cause for such extreme fright on your part. You should fix some sort of cage and bait it with meat. Then watch, and when he goes in spring the trap, and there he is."
"Yes, but will he stay there?"
"If the trap is strong enough."
"How would it do to lasso him?"
"If you are skilled in throwing the lasso and can fling several nooses over his head simultaneously from different directions. By that I mean if three or four of you can lasso him at the same instant, from different directions, so he will be held fast, why the scheme will work splendidly."
All eyes turned toward old Mr. Scrapton, who cleared his throat, threw one leg over the other and looked very wise.
It was known that he had a long buffalo thong looped and hanging over his fire-place at home, with which, he had often told, he used to lasso wild horses in the Southwest.
When the old gentleman saw the general interest he had awakened, he nodded his head patronizingly and said:
"Yes, boys, I'll go with you and show you how the thing is done."
The important conversation, of which we have given a part, took place in the principal store in Tottenville late on the evening succeeding the escape of the lion and after the performance was over.
Mr. Kincade, by virtue of his superior experience with wild animals, gave the men a great many good points and awakened such an ambition in them to capture the beast that he was quite hopeful of his being retaken in a short time.
It was understood that if the lion was injured in any way not a penny's reward would be paid, and a careful observer of matters would have thought there was reason to fear the neighbors were placing themselves in great personal peril, through their anxiety to take the king of beasts alive and unharmed.
On the morrow, when the children wended their way to the old stone school-house again, they stopped to look at Archie Jackson, who was busy tearing down the huge posters of the menagerie and circus, preparatory to tacking up some others which he had brought with him and held under his arm.
The constable dipped into several professions. He sometimes dug wells and helped to move houses for his neighbors. Beside this, he was known as the auctioneer of the neighborhood, and tacked up the announcement posters for himself.
As soon as he had cleared a space, he posted the following, printed in large, black letters:
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.
The above reward will be paid for the capture of the lion which escaped from Bandman's great menagerie and circus on Tuesday the twenty-first instant. Nothing will be paid if the animal is injured in any manner. The undersigned will be at the Tottenville Hotel for a few days, and will hand the reward named to any one who will secure the lion so that he can be returned to his cage.
Jacob Kincade.
Directly beneath this paper was placed a second one, and it seemed a curious coincident that it also was the announcement of a reward.
FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.
The above reward will be paid for the recovery of the silver tea-service stolen from the residence of the Misses Perkinpine on the night of the twentieth instant. A liberal price will be given for anything in the way of information which may lead to the recovery of the property or the detection of the thieves.
Attached to the last was a minute description of the various articles stolen, and the information that any one who wished further particulars could receive them by communicating with Archibald Jackson, constable, in Tottenville.
The menagerie and circus had departed, but the excitement which it left behind was probably greater and more intense than that which preceded its arrival.
Its coming was announced by a daring robbery, and when it went the most terrible animal in its "colossal and unparalleled collection" remained to prowl through the woods and feast upon the men, women, boys and girls of the neighborhood, to say nothing of the cows, oxen, sheep, lambs and pigs with which it was to be supposed the king of beasts would amuse himself when he desired a little recreation that should remind him of his native, far-away country.
Around these posters were gathered the same trio which we pictured on the opening of our story.
"I tell you I'd like to catch that lion," said Jimmy Emery, smacking his lips over the prospect; "but I don't see how it can be done."
"Why couldn't we coax him into the school-house this afternoon after all the girls and boys are gone?" asked Joe Hunt; "it's so low and flat he would take it for his den, that is, if we kill a calf and lay it inside the door."
"But Mr. McCurtis stays an hour after school to set copies," said Fred Sheldon.
Joe Hunt scratched his arms, which still felt the sting of the blows for his failure in his lessons, and said:
"That's one reason why I am so anxious to get the lion in there."
"Well, younkers, I s'pose you're going to earn both of them rewards?"
It was Bud Heyland who uttered these words, as he halted among the boys, who were rather shy of him.
Bud had his trousers tucked in the top of his boots, his sombrero and blue shirt on, his rank brier-wood pipe in his mouth, and the whip, whose lash looked like a long, coiling black snake, in his hand.
His face was red as usual, with blotches on his nose and cheeks, such as must have been caused by dissipation. He was ugly by nature, and had the neighborhood been given the choice between having him and the lion as a pest it may be safely said that Bud would not have been the choice of all.
"I don't think there's much chance for us," said Fred Sheldon, quietly edging away from the bully; "for I don't see how we are to catch and hold him."
"It would not do for him to see you," said Bud, taking his pipe from his mouth and grinning at Fred.
"Why not?"
"He's so fond of calves he'd be sure to go for you."
"That's why he tried so hard to get at you, I s'pose, when you climbed the tent pole and was so scared you've been pale ever since."
Bud was angered by this remark, which caused a general laugh, and he raised his whip, but just then he saw the teacher, Mr. McCurtis, close at hand, and he refrained. Although large and strong, like all bullies, he was a coward, and could not forget the severe drubbing received from this severe pedagogue, "all of ye olden times."
He walked sullenly away, resolved to punish the impudent Fred Sheldon before he left the neighborhood, while the ringing of the cracked bell a minute or two later drew the boys and girls to the building and the studies of the day were begun.
Young Fred Sheldon was the brightest and best boy in school, and he got through his lessons with his usual facility, but it may be said that his thoughts were anywhere but in the school-room.
Indeed, there was plenty to rack his brain over, for during the few minutes when Bud Heyland stood talking to the boys before school Fred was impressed more than ever with the fact that his voice resembled that of the tramp who had been entertained by the Misses Perkinpine a couple of nights before.
"I s'pose he tried to make his voice sound different," thought Fred, "but he didn't remember it all the time. Bud's voice is coarser than it used to be, which I s'pose is because it's changing, but every once in awhile it sounded just like it did a few minutes ago.
"Then it seems to me," added our hero, pursuing the same train of perplexing thought, "that the voice of the other man—the one that come on to me in the lane—was like somebody I've heard, but I can't think who the person can be."
Fred took out his new knife and looked at it in a furtive way. When he had admired it a few minutes he fixed his eyes on the three letters cut in the brass piece.
"They're 'N. H. H.,'" he said, "as sure as I live; but 'N. H. H.' don't stand for Bud Heyland, though the last name is the same. If that was Bud who stole the silver then he must have dropped the knife on the floor, though I don't see how he could do it without knowing it. I s'pose he stole the knife from some one else."
The boy had not shown his prize to any of his playmates, having thought it best to keep it out of sight. He could not help believing that Bud Heyland had something to do with the robbery, but it was difficult to think of any way by which the offense could be proven against him.
"He'll deny it, of course, and even Aunt Annie and Lizzie will declare that it wasn't him that sat at the table the other night and eat enough for a half-dozen men, or as much as I wanted, anyway. He's such a mean, ugly boy that I wish I could prove it on him—that is, if he did it."
That day Fred received word from his mother that she would not return for several days, and he was directed to look after the house, while he was permitted to sleep at the old brick mansion if he chose.
Accordingly Fred saw that all his chores were properly done after he reached home that afternoon, when he started for the home of the maiden ladies, where he was more than welcome.
The boy followed the same course he took two nights before, and his thoughts were so occupied that he went along at times almost instinctively, as may be said.
"Gracious," he muttered, "but if I could find that silver for them—she don't say anything about the money that was taken—that would be an awful big reward. Five hundred dollars! It would more than pay the mortgage on our place. Then that one hundred dollars for the lion—gracious alive!" gasped Fred, stopping short and looking around in dismay. "I wonder where that lion is. He's been loose twenty-four hours, and I should like to know how many people he has killed. I heard he was seen up among the hills this morning, and eat a whole family and a team of horses, but I think maybe there's some mistake about it.
"I wonder why he didn't kill somebody yesterday when he had such a good chance. He jumped right down in front of me, and I just gave up, and wished I was a better boy before I should go and leave mother alone; but he didn't pay any attention to me, nor anybody else, but he's a terrible creature, for all that."
Now that Fred's thoughts were turned toward the beast that was prowling somewhere in the neighborhood, he could think of nothing else. There was the fact that this peril was a present one, which drove all thoughts of Bud Heyland and the robbery from the mind of the boy.
The rustling wind, the murmur of the woods, and the soft, hollow roar of the distant river were all suggestive of the dreaded lion, and Fred found himself walking on tip-toe and peering forward in the gloom, often stopping and looking behind and around, and fancying he caught an outline of the crouching beast.
But at last he reached the short lane and began moving with a rapid and confident step. The moon was shining a little more brightly than when he went over the ground before, and here and there the rays found their way between the poplars and served to light the road in front.
"I guess he is asleep in the woods and will keep out of sight till he's found——"
The heart of Fred Sheldon rose in his throat, and, as he stopped short, it seemed that his hair rose on end.
And well it might, for there, directly in the road before him, where the moon's rays shot through the branches, the unmistakable figure of the dreaded lion suddenly appeared.
CHAPTER IX. SEVERAL MISHAPS.
On this same eventful evening, Archie Jackson, the constable of Tottenville, started from the residence of the Misses Perkinpine for his own house in the village.
He had been out to make some inquiries of the ladies, for it will be remembered that he had two very important matters on hand—the detection of the robbers who had taken the property of the sisters and the leadership of the party who were to recapture the lion.
At the close of the day, as he moved off toward the village, some time before the arrival of Fred Sheldon, he could not console himself with the knowledge that anything like real progress had been made in either case.
"I've sent for that New York detective, Carter, to come down at once, and he ought to be here, but I haven't seen anything of him. Like enough he's off somewhere and won't be heard from for a week. I don't know as I care, for I begin to feel as though I can work out this nefarious proceeding myself.
"Then the lion. Well, I can't say that I desire to go hunting for that sort of game, for I never studied their habits much, but as this cretur' doesn't seem to be very ferocious we ought to be able to run him in. I've organized the company, and Scrapton says he'll bring out his lasso and show two or three of us how to fling the thing, so we can all neck him at the same time.
"If I can work up this matter and the other," continued the constable, who was "counting his chickens before they were hatched," "I shall make a nice little fee. I'm sure the lion will stay in the woods till he's pretty hungry. All the wild reports we've heard to-day have nothing in them. Nobody has seen him since he took to the forest yesterday afternoon, and what's more, nobody will——"
And just then came the greatest shock of Archie Jackson's life.
He was walking along the road toward Tottenville, and had reached a place where a row of trees overhung the path. He had taken a different route home from that pursued by Fred Sheldon, and was in quite a comfortable frame of mind, as the remarks quoted will show, when he gave a gasp of fright, for there, at the side of the path, he was sure he saw the lion himself sitting on his haunches and waiting for him to come within reach of his frightful claws and teeth.
The constable did not observe him until he was within arm's length, as may be said, and then the poor fellow was transfixed. He stood a minute or so, doing nothing but breathe and staring at the monster.
The lion seemed to comprehend that he was master of the situation, for he quietly remained sitting on his haunches, no doubt waiting for his victim to prepare for his inevitable fate.
Finally, Archie began to experience something like a reaction, and he asked himself whether he was to perish thus miserably, or was there not some hope, no matter how desperate, for him.
Of course he had no gun, but he generally carried a loaded revolver, for his profession often demanded the display of such a weapon; but to his dismay, when he softly reached his right hand back to his hip to draw it, he recalled that he had cleaned it that afternoon, and left it lying on his stand at home.
The situation was enough to make one despair, and for an instant after the discovery the officer felt such a weakness in the knees that it was all he could do to keep from sinking to the ground in a perfect collapse; but he speedily rallied, and determined on one great effort for life.
"I will strike him with my fist—that will knock him over—and then run for a tree."
This was his resolve. Archie could deliver a powerful blow, and, believing the lion would not wait any longer, he drew back his clenched hand and aimed for the forehead directly between the eyes.
He measured the distance correctly, but the instant the blow landed he felt he had made a mistake; it was not the runaway lion which he had struck, but the stump of an old tree.
It is hardly necessary to say that the constable suffered more than did the stump, and for a minute or two he was sure he had fractured the bones of his hand, so great was the pain. He danced about on one foot, shaking the bruised member and bewailing the stupidity that led him to make such a grievous error.
"That beats anything I ever knowed in all my life," he exclaimed, "and how glad I am that nobody else knows it; if the folks ever hear of it, they will plague me forever and——"
"Halloo, Archie, what's the matter?"
The cold chills ran down the officer's back as he heard this hail, and suppressing all expression of pain, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked quickly around.
In the dim moonlight he saw old man Scrapton and two neighbors, Vincent and Emery, fathers respectively of two playmates of Fred Sheldon.
Each carried a coil of long, strong rope in his right hand and seemed to be considerably excited over something.
"We're after the lion," said Mr. Scrapton; "have you seen him?"
"No, I don't think he's anywhere around here."
"I've had Vincent and Emery out in the meadow nearly all day, practicing throwing the lasso, and they've got the hang of it exactly. Emery can fling the noose over the horns of a cow a dozen yards away and never miss, while Vincent, by way of experiment, dropped the noose over the shoulders of his wife at a greater distance."
"Yes," said Mr. Vincent, "but I don't regard that as much of a success. Mrs. Vincent objected, and before I could let go of my end of the lasso, she drawed me to her and—well, I'd prefer to talk of something else."
The constable laughed and said:
"It's a good thing to practice a little beforehand, when you are going into such a dangerous business as this."
"I suppose that's the reason you've been hammering that white oak stump," suggested Mr. Scrapton, with a chuckle.
Archie Jackson saw he was caught, and begged his friends to say nothing about it, as he had already suffered as much in spirit as body.
"But do you expect to find the lion to-night?" he asked, with unaffected interest.
"Yes, we know just where to look for him," said Mr. Scrapton; "he stayed in the woods all day, but just as the sun was setting I catched sight of him along the edge of the fence, and he isn't far from there this very minute."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"Certainly."
"But I have no weapon."
"All the better; I made each leave his gun and pistols at home, for they'd be so scared at the first sight of the cretur' they'd fire before they knowed it and spoil everything. Like the boys at Ticonderoga, if their guns ain't loaded, they can't shoot 'em."
"But I don't see what help I can give you, as I haven't got a rope; and even if I had, I wouldn't know how to use it."
"Come along, any way; we'll feel safer if we have another with us."
It cannot be said that the constable was very enthusiastic, for there was something in the idea of hunting the king of beasts without firearms which was as terrifying as it was grotesque.
However, he could not refuse, and the four started down the road and across the field, in the direction of the large tract of forest in which it was known the lion had taken refuge when he broke from his cage the day before.
A walk of something like a third of a mile took the party to the edge of the wood, where they stopped and held a consultation in whispers.
None of them were so brave as they seemed a short time before, and all secretly wished they were safe at home.
"I don't see how you can expect to find him by hunting in the night time, when you have made no preparation," said Archie Jackson, strongly impressed with the absurdity of the whole business.
"But I have made preparation," answered Scrapton, in the same guarded undertone.
"How?"
"I killed a pig and threw him over the fence yonder by that pile of rocks—good heavens!"
At the moment of pointing his finger to indicate the spot, all heard a low cavernous growl, which sent a shiver of affright from head to foot.
They were about to break into a run, when the constable said:
"If you start, he will be after us; let's stand our ground."
"Certainly," assented Mr. Vincent, through his chattering teeth.
"Certainly, certainly," added his neighbor, in the same quaking voice.
Toning down their extreme terror as best they could, the four frightened friends strained their eyes to catch a sight of the animal.
"He's there," said Scrapton, fingering his lasso in a way which showed he was very eager to hurl it.
"Where?"
"Right behind the fence; I see him; he's crouching down and eating the carcass of the pig."
"When he gets through with that he will come for us."
"Like enough—but that will be all right," said the old gentleman, who really showed more self-possession than any of the others; "for it will give us just the chance we want."
"How so?"
"When he comes over the fence we'll sort of scatter and throw our lassoes together; then each will pull with all his might and main."
"But," said Mr. Vincent, "s'posing we pull his head off, we won't get any of the reward."
"We can't pull hard enough to do that, but if we hold on we'll keep him fast, so he can't move any way at all, and bime-by he'll get so tired that he'll give up, and we'll have him, certain sure."
"That is, if he don't happen to have us," said Mr. Jackson. "As I haven't got any rope, s'pose I climb over the fence and scare him up so he will come toward you."
The idea seemed to be a good one, as the others looked at it, but when the constable moved off to carry out his proposition they thought he was making altogether too extended a circuit, and that it would be a long while before he would succeed in his undertaking.
Archie finally vanished in the gloom, and climbing over the fence into the woods moved a short distance toward the spot where the animal lay, when he paused.
"The man who goes to hunt a wild lion with nothing but a jack-knife with both blades broke out is a natural-born idiot, which his name isn't Archie Jackson. I've business elsewhere."
And thereupon he deliberately turned about and started homeward by a circuitous route.
Meanwhile old Mr. Scrapton and Vincent and Emery stood trembling and waiting for the appearance of the lion, which, judging from the sounds that reached their ears, was busy crunching the bones of the young porker that had been slain for his special benefit.
They didn't know whether to stay where they were or to break into a run. The danger seemed great, but the reward was so tempting that they held their ground.
"He may start to run away," weakly suggested Mr. Vincent.
"I don't think so, now that he's tasted blood, but if he does," said the leader of the party, "we must foller."
"But he can run faster than we——"
"There he comes!"
In the darkness they saw the faintly-outlined figure of an animal clambering over the fence, with growls and mutterings, and hardly conscious of what they were doing, the three men immediately separated several yards from each other and nervously clutched their ropes, ready to fling them the instant the opportunity presented itself.
"There he comes!" called out Mr. Scrapton again; "throw your lassoes!"
At the same instant the three coils of rope whizzed through the air as a dark figure was seen moving in a direction which promised to bring him to a point equidistant from all.
Mr. Vincent was too enthusiastic in throwing his noose, for it went beyond the animal and settled around the neck of the astonished Mr. Emery, who thought the lion had caught him in his embrace, thrown as he was off his feet and pulled fiercely over the ground by the thrower.
Mr. Emery missed his mark altogether, although Mr. Scrapton had to dodge his head to escape the encircling coil.
The old gentleman would have lassoed the animal had he not discovered at the very instant the noose left his hand that it was his own mastiff, Towser, that they were seeking to capture instead of a runaway lion.
CHAPTER X. A BRAVE ACT.
Meanwhile Fred Sheldon had become involved in anything but a pleasant experience.
There might be mistakes ludicrous and otherwise in the case of others, but when he saw the animal in the lane before him, as revealed by the rays of the moon, there was no error.
It was the identical lion that had escaped from the menagerie the day previous, and the beast must have noted the presence of the terrified lad, who stopped such a short distance from him.
Master Fred was so transfixed that he did not stir for a few seconds, and then it seemed to him that the best thing he could do was to turn about and run, and yell with might and main, just as he did some weeks before when he stepped into a yellow-jackets' nest.
It is hard to understand how the yelling helps a boy when caught in such a dilemma, but we know from experience that it is easier to screech at the top of one's voice, as you strike at the insects that settle about your head, than it is to concentrate all your powers in the single act of running.
Almost unconsciously, Fred began stepping backward, keeping his gaze fixed upon the lion as he did so. If the latter was aware of the stratagem, which is sometimes used with advantage by the African hunter, he did not immediately seek to thwart it, but continued facing him, and occasionally swaying his tail, accompanied by low, thunderous growls.
The boys of the school had learned a great deal of natural history within the last day or two, and Fred had read about the king of beasts. He knew that a lion could crouch on his belly, and, with one prodigious bound, pass over the intervening space.
The lad was afraid the one before him meant to act according to the instincts of his nature, and he retreated more rapidly, until all at once he whirled about and ran for dear life, directly toward the highway.
He did not shout, though, if he had seen any other person, he would have called for help; but, when he reached the road, he cast a glance over his shoulder, expecting to feel the horrible claws at the same instant.
The lion was invisible. Fred could scarcely believe his eyes; but such was the fact.
"I don't understand him," was the conclusion of the boy, who kept moving further away, scarcely daring to believe in his own escape even for a few brief minutes.
Fred had been too thoroughly scared to wish to meet the lion again, but he wanted to get back to the house that the Misses Perkinpine could be told of the new danger which threatened them.
"I think they'll be more likely to believe me than night before last," said the lad to himself.
But nothing could tempt him to venture along the lane again after such an experience.
It was easy enough to reach the house by a long detour, but the half belief that the lion was lurking in the vicinity made the effort anything but assuring.
However, Fred Sheldon thought it his duty to let his good friends know the new peril to which they were subject, in the event of venturing out of doors.
So slow and stealthy was his next approach to the building that nearly an hour passed before he found himself in the small yard surrounding the house; but, when once there, he hastened to the front door and gave such a resounding knock with the old-fashioned brass knocker that it could have been heard a long distance away, on the still summer night.
It seemed a good while to Fred before the bolt was withdrawn, and Aunt Annie appeared in her cap and spectacles.
"Oh, it's you, Fred, is it?" she exclaimed with pleasure, when she recognized the young man who was so welcome at all times. "You are so late that we had given you up, and were going to retire."
"I started early enough, but it seems to me as if every sort of awful thing is after us," replied Fred, as he hastily followed the lady into the dining-room, where the sisters began preparing the meal for which the visitor, like all urchins of his age, was ready at any time.
"What's the matter now, Freddy?" asked Aunt Lizzie.
"Why, you had a tramp after you night before last, and now you've got a big, roaring lion."
"A what?" asked the two in amazement, for they had not heard a syllable of the exciting incident of the day before.
"Why, there's a lion that broke out of the menagerie yesterday, and they haven't been able to catch him yet."
"Land sakes alive!" gasped Aunt Annie, sinking into a chair and raising her hands, "what is the world coming to?"
Aunt Lizzie sat down more deliberately, but her pale face and amazed look showed she was no less agitated.
Fred helped himself to some more of the luscious shortcake and golden butter and preserves, and feeling the importance of his position told the story with which our readers are familiar, though it must be confessed the lad exaggerated somewhat, as perhaps was slightly excusable under the circumstances.
Still it was not right for him to describe the lion as of the size of an ordinary elephant, unless he referred to the baby elephant, which had never been seen in this country at that time.
Nor should he have pictured his run down the lane, with the beast behind him all the way, snapping at his head, while Fred only saved himself by his dexterity in dodging him.
There was scarcely any excuse for such hyperbole, though the narrative was implicitly believed by the ladies, who felt they were in greater danger than if a score of burglarious tramps were planning to rob them.
"They've offered one hundred dollars to any one who catches the lion without hurting him," added Fred, as well as he could speak with his mouth filled with spongy gingerbread.
"A hundred dollars!" exclaimed Aunt Lizzie; "why, he'll kill anybody who goes near him. If I were a man I wouldn't try to capture him for a million dollars."
"I'm going to try to catch him," said Fred, in his off-hand fashion, as though it was a small matter, and then, swallowing enough of the sweet food to allow him to speak more plainly, he added:
"Lions ain't of much account when you get used to 'em; I'm beginning to feel as though I'm going to make that hundred dollars."
But the good ladies could not accept this statement as an earnest one, and they chided their youthful visitor for talking so at random. Fred thought it best not to insist, and finished his meal without any further declarations of what he intended to do.
"They've left two persons behind to look after the lion," he said; "one is named Kincade and the other is Bud Heyland, you know him—the son of Michael, your hired man."
"Yes; he called here to-day."
"He did. What for?"
"Oh, nothing in particular; he said he heard we had had our silverware stolen, and he wanted to tell us how sorry he felt and to ask whether we had any suspicion of who took it."
"He did, eh?" said Fred, half to himself, with a belief that he understood the real cause of that call.
"I think Bud is getting to be a much better boy than he used to be," added Aunt Annie; "he was real sorry for us, and talked real nice. He said he expected to be at home for two or three days, though he didn't tell us what for, and he would drop in to see us."
Master Sheldon made no answer to this, but he "had his thoughts," and he kept them to himself.
The hour was quite advanced, for the days were long, so that the fastenings of the house were looked to with great care, and Fred went to the same room he had occupied two nights before, the one immediately preceding having been spent at home, as he partly expected the return of his mother.
After saying his prayers and extinguishing the light, he walked to the rear window and looked out on the solemn scene.
Everything was still, but he had stood thus only for a minute or two, when in the quiet, he detected a peculiar sound, which puzzled him at first; but as he listened, he learned that it came from the smoke-house, a small structure near the wood-house.
Like the residence, it was built of old-fashioned Holland brick, and was as strong as a modern prison cell.
"Somebody is in there stealing meat," was the conclusion of Fred; "I wonder who it can be."
He listened a moment longer, and then heard the same kind of growl he had noticed the day before when standing in front of the lion's cage.
Beyond a doubt the king of beasts was helping himself to such food as suited him.
In a twinkling Fred Sheldon hurried softly down stairs, cautiously opened the kitchen door, and looked out and listened.
Yes, he was in there; he could hear him growling and crunching bones, and evidently enjoying the greatest feast of his life.
"Now, if he don't hear me coming, I'll have him sure," Fred said to himself, as he began stealing toward the door through which the lion had passed.
CHAPTER XI. A REWARD WELL EARNED.
The smoke-house attached to the Perkinpine mansion, as we have already said, was made of bricks, and was a strong, massive structure. Although originally used for a building in which meat was cured, it had been adapted to the purposes of a milk store-house. A stream of water ran through one side and the milk and fresh meats were kept there so long as it was possible during the summer weather.
A supply of mutton and lamb had been placed in it the evening before by Michael, the hired man, a portion for the use of the ladies and a portion for himself, when he should come to take it away in the morning.
There had never been an ice-house on the property, that luxury having been much less known a half a century ago than it is to-day.
The lion, in snuffing around the premises, had scented this store-house of meat, and was feasting himself upon it when detected by Fred Sheldon, who, with very little hesitation, covered the couple of rods necessary to reach it.
It is difficult to comprehend the trying nature of such a venture, but the reward was a gigantic one in the eyes of Fred, who was very hopeful also of the chance being favorable for capturing the animal.
Having started he did not dare to turn back, but hastened forward on tip-toe, and with a firm hand caught the latch of the door. The instant he did so the latter was closed and fastened.
He expected the lion would make a plunge against it, and break out. Having done all he could to secure him, Fred scurried back through the kitchen door, which he nervously closed after him, and then scampered in such haste to his room that he feared he had awakened the two ladies in the other part of the house.
Hurrying to the window, the lad looked anxiously out and down upon the smoke-house as it was called.
To his delight he saw nothing different in its appearance from what it was when he left it a few moments before.
It followed, therefore, that the lion was within, as indeed was proven by the sounds which reached the ears of the listening lad.
But was the little structure strong enough to hold him? When he broke through his own cage with such ease, would he find any difficulty in making his way out of this place?
These were the questions our hero asked himself, and which he could not answer as he wished.
While the walls of the little building were strong and secure, yet the door was an ordinary one of wood, fastened by a common iron latch and catch, supplemented by a padlock whenever Michael Heyland chose to take the trouble; but the door was as secure against the animal within with the simple latch in place as it was with the addition of the lock, for it was not to be expected that he would attempt to force his way out in any manner other than by flinging himself against the door itself whenever he should become tired of his restraint.
After a while all became still within the smoke-house, and it must have been that the unconscious captive, having gorged himself, had lain down for a good sleep.
Fred Sheldon was all excitement and hope, for he felt that if the creature could be kept well supplied with food, he was likely to remain content with his quarters for a considerable time.
Tired and worn out, the boy finally lay down on his bed and slept till morning. The moment his eyes were open, he arose and looked out. The smoke-house showed no signs of disturbance, the door remaining latched as it was the night before.
"He's there yet," exclaimed the delighted boy, hurriedly donning his clothes and going down the stairs in three jumps.
He was right in his guess, for when he cautiously peeped through the slats of the window he saw the monster stretched out upon the floor in a sound slumber.
When Fred told the Misses Perkinpine that the lion was fastened in the smoke-house their alarm passed all bounds. They instantly withdrew to the uppermost room, where they declared they would stay until the neighbors should come and kill the creature.
Fred tried to persuade them out of their fears, but it was useless, and gathering what meat he could in the house he shoved it through the small window, and then hurried off toward Tottenville.
"The lion has got plenty of food, and there is the little stream of water running through the smoke-house, so he ought to be content to stay there for the day."
Jacob Kincade sat on the porch of the Tottenville Hotel, smoking a cigar and talking with a number of the villagers, who were gathered around him. Bud Heyland stayed with his folks up the road, and he had not come down to the village yet.
The talk, as a matter of course was about the lion, which was believed to be ranging through the country, and playing havoc with the live stock of the farmers.
Among the listeners were several boys, with open mouths and eyes, and when Fred joined them no one paid any attention to him.
"As I was saying," observed Mr. Kincade, flinging one of his legs over the other, and flirting the ashes from his cigar, "the lion is one of the most valuable in the country. He has a wonderful history, having killed a number of people before he was captured in Africa. Colonel Bandman has been offered a large price for him, which explains why he is so anxious to secure him unhurt."
"What is the reward?" asked one of the bystanders.
"It was originally a hundred dollars, but I've just received a letter from Colonel Bandman, in which he instructs me to make the reward two hundred, provided the animal is not injured at all."
"What does that offer imply?" asked another of the deeply interested group.
"The only feasible plan, in my judgment, is to construct a large cage and to lure the lion into that. I have a couple of carpenters hard at work, but the trouble is the animal has such a good chance now of getting all the meat he wants that it will be difficult to get him inside of anything that looks like a cage."
"If he could be got into a place where he could be held secure until you brought up his own cage, that would be all you would ask?" continued the speaker, who evidently was forming some plan of operations in his own mind.
"That is all, sir."
"I've got your lion for you!"
This rather weighty assertion was made by Fred Sheldon, from his position in the group. An instant hush fell upon all, who looked wonderingly at the lad, as if uncertain whether they had heard aright.
Before any comment was made our hero, somewhat flushed in the face, as he summoned up his courage, added:
"I've got the lion fast, and if you will go with me I will show you where he is."
Mr. Kincade laughed, as did one or two others. Taking a puff or two of his cigar, the showman added:
"Run home, sonny, and don't bother us any more."
But in that little party were a number who knew Fred Sheldon to be an honest and truthful boy. They made inquiries of him, and when his straightforward answers had been given they told the showman he could rely on what had been said.
Mr. Kincade thereupon instantly made preparations, the group swelling to large proportions, as the news spread that the wild beast had been captured.
The cage of the lion, which had been strongly repaired, was driven to the front of the hotel; Jake Kincade mounted, took the lines in hand and started toward the home of the Misses Perkinpine, the villagers following close beside and after him.
Just as they turned into the short lane leading to the place, whom should they meet but Bud Heyland in a state of great excitement.
He was seen running and cracking his whip over his head, and shouting——
"I've got him! I've got him! I've got the lion!"
The wagon and company halted for him to explain.
"I've got him up here in the old maids' smoke-house. I put some meat in there last night, for I seen tracks that showed me he had been prowling around, and this morning when me and the old man went over to look there he was! I'll take that reward, Jacob, if you please."
And the boy grinned and ejected a mouthful of tobacco juice, while the others turned inquiringly toward Fred Sheldon, whose cheeks burned with indignation.
"He tells a falsehood," said Fred. "He never knew a thing about it till this morning."
"I didn't, eh?" shouted Bud. "I'll show you!"
Thereupon he raised his whip, but Mr. Emery stepped in front and said, calmly:
"Bud, it won't be well for you to strike that boy."
"Well, I don't want anybody telling me I don't tell the truth, for I'm square in everything I do, and I won't be insulted."
Mr. Kincade was on the point of taking the word of Bud Heyland that the reward had been earned by him, when he saw from the disposition of the crowd that it would not permit any such injustice as that.
"If you've got the animal secure I'm satisfied," called out the showman from his seat, as he assumed an easy, lolling attitude. "You two chaps and the crowd can settle the question of who's entitled to the reward between you, and I only ask that you don't be too long about it, for the critter may get hungry and eat his way out."
Mr. Emery, at the suggestion of several, took charge of the investigation.
Turning to Fred he said: "The people here have heard your story, and Bud can now tell his."
"Why, I hain't got much to tell," said the big boy, in his swaggering manner. "As I said awhile ago, I seen signs around the place last night which showed the lion was sneaking about the premises. He likes to eat good little boys, and I s'pose he was looking for Freddy there," said young Heyland, with a grinning leer at our hero, which brought a smile to several faces.
"So I didn't say anything to the old man but just flung a lot of meat in the smoke-house and went home to sleep. This morning the old man awoke afore I did, which ain't often the case, and going over to his work found the trap had been sprung and the game was there.
"The old man (Bud seemed to be proud of calling his father by that disrespectful name) came running home and pitched through the door as white as a ghost, and it was a minute or two before he could tell his story. When he had let it out and the old woman begun to shiver, why I laughed, and told 'em how I'd set the trap and earned the reward. With that the old man cooled down, and I got him back with me to look at the beast, which is still asleep, and then I started to tell you about it, Jake, when I meets this crowd and hears with pain and surprise the awful whopper this good little boy tells. I believe he slept in the house there last night, and when he woke up and went out in the smoke-house to steal a drink of milk and seen the lion, he was so scared that he nearly broke his neck running down to the village to tell about it."
This fiction was told so well that several looked at Fred to see what he had to say.
The lad, still flushed in the face, stepped forward and said:
"I'd like to ask Bud a question or two."
As he spoke, Fred addressed Mr. Emery, and then turned toward the grinning bully, who said:
"Go ahead with all you're a mind to."
"You say you put the meat in there on purpose to catch the lion last night?"
"That's just what I done, Freddy, my boy."
"Where did you get the meat?"
"At home of the old woman."
"After you put it in the smoke-house, you didn't go back until this morning?"
"No, sir; my little Sunday school lad."
"Who, then, shut and fastened the door, after the lion walked in the smoke-house to eat the meat?"
Bud Heyland's face flushed still redder, and he coughed, swallowed and stuttered——
"Who shut the door? Why—that is—yes—why what's the use of asking such infarnal questions?" demanded Bud in desperation, as the listeners broke into laughter.
Mr. Emery quietly turned to Kincade, who was leaning back on his elevated seat and said:
"The reward of two hundred dollars belongs to Master Fred here," and the decision was received with shouts of approbation.
Bud Heyland's eyes flashed with indignation, and he muttered to himself; but, in the face of such a number, he dared not protest, and he followed them as they pushed on toward the little structure where the escaped beast was restrained of his liberty.
A reconnoissance showed that he was still there, and the arrangements for his transfer were speedily made and carried out with much less difficulty than would have been supposed.
The cage was placed in front of the door of the smoke-house, communication being opened, after an inclined plane was so arranged that the beast could not walk out without going directly into his old quarters.
Several pounds of raw, bleeding meat were placed in the cage, and then the animal was stirred up with a long pole.
He growled several times, got on his feet, looked about as if a little confused, and then seemed to be pleased at the familiar sight of his old home, for he walked deliberately up the inclined plane into the cage, and lay down as if to complete his nap, so rudely broken a few minutes before. The door was quickly closed and fastened, and the escaped lion was recaptured!
When all saw how easily it was done, and recalled the fact that the king of beasts, so far as was known, had injured no person at all, there was a great deal of inquiry for the explanation.
Why was it that, with such opportunities for destroying human life, he had failed to rend any one to fragments?
Jacob Kincade, after some laughter, stated that the lion, although once an animal of tiger-like ferocity and strength, was now so old that he was comparatively harmless. His teeth were poor, as was shown by the little progress he had made with the bony meat in the smoke-house. If driven into a corner he might make a fight, but if he had been loose for a month it was hardly likely he would have killed anybody.
The blow which he received in the eye from Bud Heyland's whip incited him to fury for the moment, but by the time he got fairly outside he was comparatively harmless, and the hurried climbing of the center-pole by Bud Heyland was altogether a piece of superfluity.
As Fred Sheldon had fairly earned the two hundred dollars, he was told to call at the hotel in Tottenville that afternoon and it would be paid him.
It is not necessary to say that he was there punctually, for the sum was a fortune in his eyes.
As he came to the porch a number of loungers were there as usual, and Fred found himself quite a hero among his playmates and fellows.
Not only was Jake Kincade present, with his cigar alternately between his finger and lips, but Bud Heyland and a stranger were sitting on the bench which ran along the porch, their legs crossed, one smoking his briar-wood and the other a cigar.
Despite Fred's agitation over his own prospects, he could not help noticing this stranger whom, he believed, he had never seen before.
His dress and appearance were much like those of a cattle drover. He wore a large, gray sombrero, a blue flannel shirt, had no suspenders, coarse corduroy trousers, though the weather was warm, with the legs tucked in the tops of his huge cowhide boots, the front of which reached far above his knees, like those of a cavalryman.
He had frowsy, abundant hair, a smoothly-shaven face—that is, the stubby beard was no more than two or three days old—and he seemed to be between twenty-five and thirty years of age.
Looking at his rather regular features, it would be hard to tell whether he was a good or evil man, but it was very evident that he and Bud Heyland had struck up a strong intimacy, which was growing.
They sat close together, chatted and laughed, and indulged in jokes at the expense of those around them, careless alike of the feelings that were hurt or the resentment engendered.
As Fred approached he saw Bud turn his head and speak to the stranger, who instantly centered his gaze on the boy, so there could be no doubt that his attention was called to him.
Fred was moving rather timidly toward Kincade, when the stranger raised his hand and crooked his finger toward him. Wondering what he could want, Fred Sheldon diverged toward him and took off his hat.
"I wouldn't stand bareheaded, Freddy, dear," said Bud, with his old grin; "you might catch cold in your brains."
Neither of the others noticed this course remark, and the stranger, scrutinizing the boy with great interest, said:
"What is your name, please?"
"Frederick Sheldon."
"And you are the boy who locked the lion in the smoke-house last night when you heard the poor fellow trying to use his aged teeth on some bones?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you deserve credit; for you thought, like everybody else, that he was as fierce as he was a dozen years ago. Well, all I want to say, Fred, is that I'm Cyrus Sutton, stopping here at the hotel, and I'm somewhat interested in cattle. Bud, here, doesn't feel very well, and he's got leave of absence for two or three days and is going to stay at home. Bud and I are strong friends, and I've formed a rather good opinion of you and I congratulate you on having earned such a respectable pile of money. Mr. Kincade is ready and glad to pay you."
Squire Jones, a plain, honest, old man, who had been justice of the peace for fully two score years, went into the inner room with Fred Sheldon and Jacob Kincade to see that everything was in proper shape; for as the boy was a minor his rights needed careful protection.
All was done deliberately and carefully, and the entire amount of money, in good, crisp greenbacks, was placed in the trembling hands of Fred Sheldon, who felt just then as though he would buy up the entire village of Tottenville, and present it to his poor friends.
"Come over to my office with me," said the squire, when the transaction was finished.
The lad willingly walked across the street and into the dingy quarters of the old man, who closed the door and said:
"I am real glad, Frederick, that you have earned such a sum of money, for your mother needs it, and I know you to be a truthful and honest boy; but let me ask you what you mean to do with it?"