Brave Tom by Edward S. Ellis

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[Illustration: "Pull up; I'm all right."]

_Brave and Honest Series. No. 1_

Brave Tom

Or

The Battle That Won

By

Edward S. Ellis

Author of "River And Wilderness" Series, "Log Cabin" Series, "Honest Ned,"
"Righting The Wrong," Etc.

Illustrated

1894

Chapter I.

On a certain summer day, a few years ago, the little village of
Briggsville, in Pennsylvania, was thrown into a state of excitement, the
like of which was never known since the fearful night, a hundred years
before, when a band of red men descended like a cyclone upon the little
hamlet with its block-house, and left barely a dozen settlers alive to
tell the story of the visitation to their descendants.

Tom Gordon lived a mile from Briggsville with his widowed mother and his
Aunt Cynthia, a sister to his father, who had died five years before.

The boy had no brother or sister; and as he was bright, truthful,
good-tempered, quick of perception, and obedient, it can be well
understood that he was the pride and hope of his mother and aunt, whose
circumstances were of the humblest nature. He attended the village school,
where he was the most popular and promising of the threescore pupils
under the care of the crabbed Mr. Jenkins. He was as active of body as
mind, and took the lead among boys of his own age in athletic sports and
feats of dexterity.

One summer day the village of Briggsville blazed out in black and red and
white, every available space being covered with immense posters, which in
flaming scenes and gigantic type announced the coming of "Jones's & Co.'s
Great Moral Menagerie and Transcontinental Circus, on its triumphal tour
through the United States and Canada."

Naturally a tremendous excitement set in among the boys, who began
hoarding their pennies and behaving with supernatural propriety, so that
nothing should interfere with the treat, which in exquisite enjoyment can
never be equaled by anything that could come to them in after-life.

Tom Gordon had never yet seen the inside of a circus and menagerie; and as
his mother promised him that the enjoyment should be his, it is impossible
to describe his state of mind for the days and nights preceding the visit
of the grand aggregation, the like of which (according to the overwhelming
posters) the world had never known before. He studied the enormous
pictures, with their tigers, bears, leopards, and panthers, the size of a
meeting-house; their elephants of mountainous proportions, and the daring
acrobats, contortionists, and performers, whose feats made one hold one's
breath while gazing in awe at their impossible performances. The lad
dreamed of them at night, talked about them through the day, and discussed
with his most intimate friends the project of forming a circus of their
own when they became bigger and older. The latter project, it may be
added, owing to unforeseen obstacles, never assumed definite form.

But alas! this is a world of disappointment. On the morning of the circus
Tom was seized with a violent chill, which almost shook him out of his
shoes. He tried with might and main to master it; for he well knew that if
he did not, his visit to the wonderful show must be postponed
indefinitely. He strove like a hero, and was actually sick several hours
before the watchful eyes of his mother and aunt discovered his plight. The
moment came when he could hold out no longer, with his teeth rattling like
castanets, and his red face so hot that it was painful to the touch. Since
the performance did not open until two o'clock in the afternoon, he did
not as yet abandon all hope.

His mother and aunt sympathized with him; but although he rallied to a
great extent from his illness, they could not give consent for him to
leave the house. He partook of refreshment, and left his bed at noon. At
two o'clock he was able to sit in the chair by the window, with his fever
greatly abated, and an hour later he was as free from all traces of the
ague as you or I.

But it was then too late to go to the circus. The disappointment was a
sore one, but the lad stood it like the really brave fellow he was. He
swallowed the lump in his throat, and smiled as he said to his aunt,--

"When the circus comes again, I don't think I'll have a chill."

"And you shall see it, if you are alive then,--of that be assured."

The day was one of the most pleasant and balmy of the season, and Tom
walked out of the house, leaned on the gate, and looked up and down the
highway.

Suddenly he observed a span of horses coming on a gallop, while the driver
of the open wagon was lashing them with his whip and urging them to still
greater speed.

"They aren't running away," mused the astonished boy; "for, if they were,
the man wouldn't be trying to make them run faster. It's Mr. MacDowell! I
never saw him drive faster than a walk before; something dreadful must
have happened."

As Mr. MacDowell caught sight of the boy, and came opposite, he shouted
something, and with an expression of terror glanced around and pointed
with his whip behind him. The furious rattle of the wagon prevented Tom's
catching the words, and the terrified farmer did not repeat them, but
lashed his team harder than ever, vanishing in a cloud of dust raised by
his own wheels.

"He must be crazy," said Tom, unable to think of any other explanation of
the old man's frantic behavior.

The lad stood with his head turned toward the cloud of dust, wondering and
speculating over the strange affair, when hurried footsteps caused him to
turn quickly and look again in the direction of the village.

This time it was Jim Travers, who was panting from his running, and whose
face was a picture of consternation, equal to that of Farmer MacDowell.

"What's the matter, Jim?" asked Tom as his schoolmate reached him.

"O Tom, ain't it awful?" gasped the new arrival, coming to a halt, still
panting, and casting affrighted glances in the direction of Briggsville.

"Ain't _what_ awful?"

"Gracious! hain't you heard the news? I thought everybody knowed it."

And the tired boy took off his hat and rubbed his sleeve across his
steaming forehead, as though his expression of surprise at Tom's ignorance
communicated of itself the news to him. Tom, as may be supposed, was on
needles; for, as yet, he had not received the first hint of the
occurrence, which certainly must have been of a stirring nature.

"Sam Harper, Jack Habersham, and Bill Dunham--_all killed_ before any one
could help 'em! Did you ever hear of anything like it?" continued Jim.

"I haven't heard of _that_ yet. I don't know what you're talking about,
Jim; if you can't tell me, why, shut up!"

"So you hain't heard the news? I forgot; it scared me almost to death. I
thought everybody knowed it. I must hurry home."

And the bewildered youngster was on the point of dashing off again, after
partially recovering his wind, when he seemed to awaken to the fact that
he owed something in the way of enlightenment to his friend.

"I forgot, Tom; but I did think you knowed it: guess you're the only boy
in a thousand miles that hain't heard of it. Well, you see the way of it
was this: there was the biggest crowd I ever seed at the circus,--don't
believe any other circus in the country ever had so many people there.
Everything was going 'long all right, when what did Sam Harper do, but
reach out with a stick and punch it in the eye of the tiger, Tippo Sahib?
The minute he done it, the tiger let out a yell that you would have heerd
a mile off, and, afore Sam could get out of the way, the tiger smashed
right out of the cage and was among the people, chawing them up. He had
his well eye on Sam, and crushed his head like an eggshell, with one bite!
Then he made a sweep with his paw, and knocked Jack Habersham clean out
the tent. He must have gone a hundred feet through the air, for he come
down on top of the steeple, and is there yet with the spire sticking up
through him. Then he hit Bill Dunham such a clip that he sailed out
through the same hole in the tent that Jack passed through. When I left,
Bill hadn't been seed by anybody. Guess he hasn't come down yet.

"Then the tiger come for _me_!

"I seen him make a spring, and ducked my head. He went clean over, and
landed among the women and children, and begun chawing 'em up. Why, Tom,
the sound of their bones cracking and snapping in his jaws was like the
fire-crackers going off on the Fourth of July. Them as warn't swallered or
killed scattered right and left, and begun climbing trees, jumping through
winders, and fastening the doors. All this time the tiger kept on chawing.
He never took more than one bite at a man!"

"Did you see him kill any one?" asked the scared Tom, somewhat confused by
the tremendous narrative of his friend.

"Did I see him kill any one? I should say I did. I seed him kill more than
forty!"

"Did he eat 'em all?"

"Of course he did! That is, all but their boots and shoes. He don't seem
to like leather," added Jim thoughtfully; "for I noticed that when the
men were going down his throat, he kind of shet his jaws, so as to slip
off their boots."

"Jim, he must be a big tiger to hold so many folks inside of him."

"Course he is! The biggest that was ever catched in Greenland! He didn't
not only swaller the men and boys and women that I'm telling you 'bout,
but he took in horses, cows, dogs, and anything in his way. If I ain't
mistook, he swallered Mr. MacDowell's two horses with him."

"No, he didn't; for they went by a few minutes ago. But, Jim, what makes
you in such a hurry?"

"I'm trying to get away from Tippo Sahib," replied the frightened lad,
glancing furtively again toward the village.

"Where's the tiger now?"

"He ain't fur off, and," added Jim, speaking the truth this time, "_the
tiger's coming this way, and will soon be here_."

Chapter II.

It was Tom Gordon's turn now to be frightened.

"What!" he exclaimed, almost leaping from his feet; "the tiger coming this
way! How do you know that?"

"I seed him! Ain't that enough? He started right up the road on a gallop,
with the blood dripping from his jaws!"

"But where is he now?"

"He went a little way, stopping now and then to swaller some one that
warn't quick 'nough to git out of his path; he went over the hill this
side of Briggsville, where you know we couldn't see him. By that time a
whole lot of the folks had guns, and started after him. Being on my way
home, I jined 'em. When we got to the top of the hill, old Tippo Sahib
couldn't be seen anywhere."

"Aren't you afeard to go home?"

"No, of course not," replied Jimmy, rapidly regaining courage; "I know how
to fix him if he comes after me."

"How's that?"

"All I've got to do is to stop short and look him right in the eye. A
chap mustn't tremble, but look hard and stern."

"Why didn't you do that, Jim, when he first broke out of his cage?"

"I hadn't time! I'll do it if I meet him agin. Remember, Tom, if you run
against him, you must fix your eyes on him and not wink. _That'll_ fetch
him every time."

"But s'posin' it doesn't?"

"If you should have to wink, and he comes for you, why all you've got to
do is to haul off with your foot and kick him awful hard under the jaw;
that'll fix him! But you mustn't be barefooted, or you'll hurt your toes.
And you must kick hard 'nough too," added the budding naturalist, "to
knock his jaw off. Then of course he can't bite."

The scheme was a brilliant one, perhaps; but young as was Tom Gordon, he
felt that the difficulty lay in its application.

"Gracious! Jim! the tiger is stirring up things, isn't he? We've got a gun
in the house, and if he visits us I think I'll try that."

"Do you know where to hit him?" asked Jim, who, having fully recovered his
wind, seemed at the same time to have regained a vast amount of curious
knowledge of natural history.

"I s'pose in the head is as good as any place."

"Don't you think of such a thing! He don't mind being hit in the head
more than you do getting hit by a spit-ball. You must aim for his tail!"

"How can that hurt him?" asked the amazed Tom.

"Why, I seed the balls that hit his head glance off and scoot up in the
air, like skipping stones over the water. A tiger uses his tail to balance
himself with. Shoot off his tail, and he loses his balance. Every time he
tries to walk, he tips over. Don't forget, Tom, if you shoot, to aim at
his tail, just where it is stuck onto his body. If you miss, look him in
the eye; and if that doesn't stop him, let drive with your foot under the
jaw, and don't forget to have your shoes on. Well, I must go home to tell
the folks to git ready," added Jim, loping off like an Indian starting on
a long journey.

Tom had caught the contagion of excitement, and the moment his friend left
he made a dash for the door of his home, bursting in upon his mother and
aunt with the astounding news just received from his playmate.

Strange women would they have been not to have been wrought up by the
alarming tidings. Brushing aside the chaff, there remained the wheat in
Jim's words to the effect that the tiger, one of the finest of his kind
ever seen in captivity, had broken out of his cage, injured, if not
killed, a number of people, and was in the immediate neighborhood, with
the prospect of paying a visit to this home.

"The gun is loaded," said the mother, turning slightly pale; "but I don't
think one of those animals will attempt to enter a house."

"I have read that in India," remarked her sister-in-law, "they follow the
natives into their houses, and tear down the structures in their fury."

"But their dwellings are made of light bamboo, and are frail structures."

"We may as well be on the right side," remarked the other, stepping
hastily to the door. But just before reaching it, the latch flew up, and
Jim Travers plunged in, falling on his hands and knees, the picture of
terror itself.

"Shut the door quick!" he gasped. "The tiger is coming; he's coming; he's
right behind me."

In a twinkling, Aunt Cynthia sprang forward, caught the latch, and slid
the heavy bar in place, while the mother hastened to the window.

"Look out!" called Jim, clambering to his feet; "he'll spring right
through and chaw you up, quicker'n lightning."

But the brave parent not only threw up the window and bolted the shutters,
but did it coolly and deftly with each window, front and back, thus
shrouding the room in obscurity.

Tom climbed into a chair set in front of the fireplace, and took down the
loaded rifle, which he knew how to use as well as any boy of his years.

"Come, Jim, let's go up-stairs to my bedroom; maybe we can get a shot at
him."

At the top of the stairs the leader paused and turned about.

"Say, Jim, did you try to look in the tiger's eye?" he asked.

"Don't bother me with such foolish questions; I hadn't a chance."

"How was it?"

"Why, I hadn't got far from the house, when I heered a growl, and there
was the tiger in the field, looking over the fence at me."

"Seems to me that was just the chance you wanted, if he was looking at
you."

"I s'pose it was; but to own up, Tom, I didn't think of it. I was afeard
he would go for your folks. So I thought I would walk down and tell you."

"Did you walk all the way?"

"I may have hurried a little,--that is, a part of the way. I would have
turned round and let him have my foot under the jaw, but I was afeard my
shoe would give out."

Meanwhile, the two boys walked softly to the front window of Tom's
bedroom, and cautiously peered out.

"Sh! I b'lieve I see him," whispered the young host.

"Where?" asked his companion in the same guarded manner.

"Under the oak; he's standing still just now. There! he's creeping off
toward the woodshed."

"Yes, that's him! that's him! I know it. Hadn't you better let me take a
shot?"

"I can shoot as well as you."

Tom was right. He was looking upon the royal Bengal tiger and no mistake.
He had halted under a large oak, standing on the other side of the road,
and seemed to be debating with himself what he should do next.

The rattle of a coming wagon attracted his attention, and he crouched
down, as if preparing to spring upon the driver and his animals.

"Just watch him chaw up the horses and the man!" whispered Jim.

"If he means to do that, I'd better shoot," said Tom, setting down his gun
and silently raising the window.

"You can't do it now, for he's almost behind the tree."

"His head shows, and I guess that's better than his tail."

Tom rested the heavy barrel of the rifle on the window-sill, and knelt
down to make his aim sure. Before, however, he could obtain a good sight,
the old farmer came so nearly opposite that he was obliged to restrain
his fire through fear of hitting him or his horses.

The boys held their breath, certain of the awful occurrence at hand. But
the tiger just then seemed to be in a magnanimous mood. Possibly he was
satiated with what he had already devoured in the way of horses, men,
women, and children. Be that as it may, the farmer and his team never
suspected their peril, if, in point of fact, any peril threatened them.
The animals jogged along, with the man half asleep on the front seat, his
idle whip sloping over his shoulder. The king of the jungle made not the
least demonstration against them.

"That must be 'cause he isn't hungry," remarked Jim.

"Then I should think he would go away and leave us."

"Don't you understand? We're tender, and juicier than that old man."

"Jingo! if that's what he's after, I'm going to shoot."

Tom again sighted along the barrel; but at the moment his finger began
pressing the trigger, the beast rose to his feet and looked directly at
the house, as if trying to decide the best avenue of entering,--the door,
the windows, or possibly the chimney.

He formed a striking picture, this fearful king of the jungle, whose
terrific strength, as scientific tests have proven, is one-fifth greater
than that of the African lion. His massive head was erect; his eyes
shone, and his sinewy, graceful body, covered with its soft, velvety and
spotted fur was like the beauty of some deadly serpent. His long tail
slightly swayed from side to side, and, although the boys could not hear
it, they were sure he was growling in his anger.

Once his blood-red tongue was projected for an instant from his mouth, and
licked his jaws, as the cat species are fond of doing; and occasionally he
moved his head from side to side.

"He means to chaw us all up," said Jim. "Why don't you fire?"

At that instant Tom Gordon pressed the trigger.

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,--

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