Throwing his boots down, he grasped the gutter, and "hung off." He was now on _terra firma_, and all his trials appeared to have reached a happy termination; but here again he was doomed to disappointment.
"Bow, wow, wow-er, woo, row!" barked and growled the squire's big bull dog, when he came to realize that some unusual occurrences were transpiring.
The animal was a savage brute, and was kept chained in the barn during the day, and turned loose when the squire made his last visit to the cattle about nine in the evening.

Tom was thoroughly alarmed when this new enemy confronted him; but fortunately he had the self-possession to stand his ground, and not attempt to run away, otherwise the dog would probably have torn him in pieces.
"Come here, Tige! Poor fellow! Come here! He's a good fellow! Don't you know me, Tige ?" said Tom, whose only hope seemed to be in conciliation and compromise.
If Tige knew him, he appeared to be very unwilling to acknowledge the acquaintance under the present suspicious circumstances, and at this unseemly hour.

The brute barked, snarled, howled, and growled, and manifested as strong an indisposition to compromise as a South Carolina fire-eater.

He placed himself in front of the hero of the night's adventure, as resolute and as intractable as though he had known all the facts in the case, and intended to carry out to the letter the wishes of his master.
Tom slowly retreated towards the garden fence, the dog still following him up.

He had tried coaxing and conciliation, and they had failed.