THE TRAILING PUMAS
Against one puma, despite its terrible teeth and claws, Bomba would
have had a fair chance of success in warding off an attack. His arrow
might reach its heart before it could spring.
But if three attacked at once, he would have no chance at all. He and
Doto must reach some place of safety quickly, or they were lost.
Doto was tugging frantically at his arm, and Bomba broke into a quick
pantherlike run. But the pumas quickened their pace also, instinct
telling them that their intended surprise had failed. There was the
breaking of brushwood all about as the great beasts burst through.
With Doto still clutching his arm, Bomba and the monkey plunged
together into a dark and narrow passage.
Even as they rushed within the cave, the pumas sprang to the attack.
But two of them, in making for the hole through which their prey
threatened to escape, collided with a thud of heavy bodies.
The entrance was too narrow for both, and their heads were jammed
together.
They pulled back, snapping and snarling, and in a second were engaged
in deadly combat.
The diversion seemed to give Bomba the chance that he wanted. He
slipped the bow from his shoulder and drew an arrow from his quiver.
But the implement must have been injured in the fall of the tree, for
as Bomba drew it taut the frayed string broke with an ominous snap.
Bomba threw the bow aside with an exclamation of anger. Then he drew
his revolver from its pouch and, reaching for his machete, held it in
his left hand.
With either he could wound, perhaps kill, one of his enemies. But he
was still uncertain but what the others would have to be reckoned with,
and, in that case, he knew how slim his chances were of coming through
the fight alive.
The two pumas still fought, however, locked in a deadly embrace that
would probably mean death for one of them, perhaps both. In their
struggle they had rolled a short distance from the mouth of the cave,
and Bomba could hear them thrashing about in the brushwood.
But where was the third puma?
Then Bomba felt rather than heard the stealthy approach of the great
brute.
Two yellow glints appeared before the mouth of the cave. Two glaring,
sinister eyes peered in. Bomba shrank back into the darkness and his
grip tightened about his weapons.
But as he waited, braced for the attack, he felt a sharp pull on his
arm. It came from Doto, who was chattering wildly.
Bomba tried to shake off the paw.
“Do not hinder Bomba, Doto,” he hissed through his set teeth. “Bomba
fights for his life.”
But Doto persisted, and by main strength drew Bomba back, took the
boy’s hand, and laid it upon something that was cold to the touch.
Instantly Bomba grasped the monkey’s meaning.
Here was a rock, a great rock, set not far from the entrance. If they
could roll it across that gaping opening, their lives might yet be
saved.
The fierce snarling of the fighting pumas came to them from the dense
shadow of the underbrush. They were busy doing Bomba’s work for him.
Far more fearsome at the moment was that huge figure at the mouth of
the cave.
The third puma was cautious. The hole was black. The man creature would
be armed with things that stung. The beast still limped from an arrow
wound in the leg, probably inflicted by an Indian, and was distrustful
of the creatures that walked on two legs.
Bomba hastily thrust his weapons back into his pouch. With the help of
Doto, who was stronger than the average man, he rolled the great stone
slowly, strainingly, toward the yawning mouth of the cave.
Four feet, five, six. They pushed pantingly. The rock already covered
part of the entrance, but there was still room for the puma to push
through.
At this point the beast realized what they were trying to do!
With a blood-curdling snarl of rage it leaped forward. With one great
despairing heave Bomba and Doto pushed the rock against the opening,
sealing it.
Not a minute, not a second too soon!
The great stone caught the foot of the puma, crushing it. With a roar
of rage and pain the brute pulled the injured member free and limped
away, all the fight taken out of him for the time.
Bomba leaned against the rock, exhausted but jubilant. Doto crouched
close beside him, trembling.
Bomba reached out a hand and caressed the head of the faithful monkey.
“Bomba has good friend in Doto,” said the lad earnestly. “Doto could
have saved himself in the trees and left Bomba to the hungry jaws of
the puma. Again Doto has saved the life of Bomba, and Bomba will not
forget.”
The monkey snuggled closer against him and made a little contented
sound like a child that is happy and humming softly to itself.
“But what Bomba does not understand,” went on the jungle boy, speaking
more to himself than the monkey, “is how Doto was so sure of finding
the cave. Has Doto been here before?”
Doto made a sound that Bomba interpreted as assent.
Bomba made a quick exploration of the cave to make sure that there was
no entrance from the back. Then he lay down for a much-needed rest.
His body was sore and aching, and he was exhausted physically and
mentally by the fearful strain he had undergone.
Doto lay down close to him, content to be within reaching distance of a
pat from the boy’s hand.
The mind of Bomba was full of many things. He was both glad and
sorrowful. Glad, because twice that night he had been snatched from the
very jaws of death. Sorrowful, because by reason of these perils he had
been delayed so long on his journey to Japazy.
The panic of dread was still upon him lest on reaching Jaguar Island he
might find Japazy gone.
And Casson! Dear old Casson! Was he still in the land of the living?
Had the Hondura perchance found him, and was he now safe and sound in
the friendly maloca? Bomba scarcely dared hope, and yet he forced
himself to hope, for he could not bear the thought that he might not
see the old man again.
Bomba was glad of the presence of Doto, because it relieved to some
extent his loneliness. Yet even this thought was not without its bitter
quality.
“Bomba is white,” he said to himself, “and yet he is grateful for the
presence of a friendly beast of the jungle. Will Bomba never know even
his name? Will he never know the name of the beautiful woman in the
picture, the lovely face that seemed to smile down at Bomba?”
Musing thus, he fell asleep and did not wake until the sun was painting
the jungle in a riot of gorgeous colors.
It was dark within the cave, but Bomba knew that the morning had come
by the screaming of the parrots and the chattering of the monkeys in
the jungle without.
He was bent like an old man because of the soreness in his muscles, and
one leg was lame where the cruel branches of the descending tree had
bruised the tendons.
Doto sensed his condition, and tried by chatter and gesture to induce
the boy to remain in the cave for a while until his bruised body was
well again.
Bomba hesitated, for he knew well that he should not face the dangers
of the jungle in his half-crippled condition. The cave was safe. There
was enough cooked meat in the pouch at his waist to feed both Doto and
himself, if the monkey should elect to stay with him.
The boy was tempted. But then the great urge to be on his way swept
over him. He thought of Japazy and what he would lose, how great would
be his desperation if he failed to meet the half-breed and get from him
the secret of his birth.
So slowly, reluctantly, he shook his head.
“Bomba must go on, Doto,” he said, as he smoothed the shaggy head.
“The cave is warm and safe and comfortable and there is meat in plenty
for Bomba and Doto, but Bomba must go into the jungle to meet whatever
waits for him there. Bomba cannot linger here, even though his going
may mean death to him. He must take his chance.”
Bomba offered the monkey some of his share of the tapir meat. But Doto
shook his head. He would eat meat if he were starving, but he preferred
the cocoanuts that he had only to break open to get at their succulent
contents.
But Bomba ate ravenously of the tapir meat, for he had had nothing to
eat since morning of the day before. The food put new life into him and
prepared him for the strenuous task that lay before him.
With the help of Doto he rolled back the stone from before the entrance
of the cave. They left a space only wide enough for their own bodies to
pass through, if a survey of their surroundings should signal the need
of retreat.
There was a chance that one of the pumas at least had not been content
to leave the spot where the boy and the monkey had disappeared. The
enemy might still be waiting among the trees or thickets ready to
pounce on the first that should issue forth from the cave.
So Bomba moved with the caution that was habitual with him, hand on his
machete, eyes darting in all directions.
Doto swung himself into the treetops and described a wide circle about
the spot. Bomba knew that precious little would escape the monkey’s
prying eyes.
Suddenly the monkey’s chatter became so loud and agitated that Bomba
thought it might be meant as a warning to him, and began to make a
hasty retreat toward the cave.
But in a moment he realized that it was not a warning but a summons,
and he began slowly to approach the tree from which Doto was hanging by
one paw. With the other he was pointing eagerly to something that lay
on the ground, hidden, so far, from Bomba’s view.
The boy pushed aside the underbrush and then understood what had caused
Doto’s agitation.
A giant puma lay on its side in a pool of blood, its throat horribly
mangled and torn.
One of the gladiators of the night before!
Bomba knew that but for the timely interference and help of Doto, he,
too, might have been lying in some such pool as this. But he would not
have been as intact as the puma. All that would have been left of him
would have been a few scattered bones. He would have furnished a royal
meal for the denizens of the jungle.
He stood for a moment looking thoughtfully at the beast, his eyes
gleaming, lips drawn back a little to show two rows of even white teeth.
Then he flung back his head and turned to the monkey.
“Bomba will never forget what Doto has done,” he said. “But now Bomba
must go. He must say farewell to Doto. It may be many moons before
Bomba will see Doto again.”
The monkey whimpered and put his hand on Bomba’s shoulder. No human
being could have asked more clearly that he be permitted to go along.
But Bomba smiled affectionately and patted the creature’s head.
“Bomba must go alone,” he said. “He must sail great waters where Doto
would be lonely and afraid because there were not any trees. Doto must
go back to his own people. But if he ever needs Bomba and can call to
him, Bomba will come. For Doto has been a good friend to Bomba.”
He pointed to a tree, and the monkey left him slowly and reluctantly,
swung himself into the tree, and was soon lost to sight among the
foliage.
Bomba looked after him sadly, sighed, and then began preparations for
his journey.
First he looked to his weapons. He found the revolver in perfect shape,
its waterproof covering having protected it from moisture. He took one
of the strongest and most pliant strings of those that Hondura had
given him and strung it to his bow. He tested it in every way until he
knew that it could be absolutely depended upon.
For of all his weapons the one on which he placed most reliance was
his bow. To this, he had been habituated almost from babyhood, and the
skill he had attained was phenomenal. Gillis and Dorn, the white rubber
hunters, had been dumbfounded at the marvelous accuracy of his shooting.
At close range with a human opponent the revolver perhaps would prove
the most efficient. But at a longer distance the bow was the better. He
could send an arrow clear through the body of any beast of the jungle.
The alligator’s body with its tough armor might defy the shaft. But
the alligator had eyes and, small as they were, they supplied a big
enough target for Bomba to pierce.
“Without this bow,” murmured Bomba to himself, as he gave it an
affectionate pat and slung it over his shoulder, “what chance would
Bomba have to find meat to eat? How could he defend himself against the
wild beasts that seek his life? He would be helpless and could never
hope to reach the island of the big cats.”
In his flight to the cave from the pumas Bomba had departed widely from
his original trail, and it took him some time to find it again. This he
did at last, and struck out once more for that river that flowed about
the island where Japazy dwelt.
He knew that he was now about to enter upon the most dangerous part
of his journey. The region into which he was penetrating was wild and
perilous and filled with pitfalls for the unwary traveler. Because of
the superstition surrounding the sunken city with the towers of gold,
the Indians gave this district a wide berth, and it was almost wholly
devoid of human life.
As a result, the beasts that inhabited the region had grown bolder and
more savage than in more thickly populated sections. There were no
bows and arrows, no poisoned traps to thin their numbers. A traveler
needed eyes in the back of his head, and at the sides as well, to guard
himself against the dangers that surrounded him.
Another handicap attached itself to Bomba’s journey. In that part of
the jungle where Bomba had grown up he had learned of places of refuge
for times of sudden stress. He knew of caves, of crevices only wide
enough for himself to squeeze through, of deserted cabins, of hollow
trees, of a host of similar hiding places and temporary fortresses.
More than once these had saved his life when he was hard-pressed. But
in this new region that he was entering he was a complete stranger. If
he came upon a refuge, it would be by chance. And his foes were legion.
Bomba would have figured out all of these things by himself, even if he
had not been warned by his friend, Hondura. But not for a moment did he
dream of turning back. As far as is possible to human nature, the lad
was absolutely devoid of fear. And now, with his trusty bow again in
shape, he went on with renewed confidence.
He came to the banks of a stream and rubbed his sore muscles with the
warm mud. This took some of the ache from them, and he found that he
could walk with greater ease and make much better progress. His spirits
rose as he dried himself and swung off buoyantly on the trail.
“Bomba may still be in time to see Japazy and get the truth from his
lips,” he assured himself, and in that mood felt capable of moving
mountains, even that formidable mountain on which Jojasta had dwelt.
The hope that before many days had sped he would have realized his
heart’s desire quickened his steps until he found himself breaking into
a run.
For two days more he traveled along a trail that grew ever more
difficult. The lack of human inhabitants had caused the trail in many
places to be overgrown, and Bomba’s machete was in almost constant
requisition to hack a way for him. This involved not only arduous labor
but the loss of precious time, and the boy fumed and fretted. Yet he
never grew discouraged, never even thought of turning back.
Bomba had never heard the word “impossible.” If he had, he would not
have understood it. If it had been explained to him, he would have
laughed and refused to believe it. Nothing was impossible to Bomba, if
he had determined to do it. It would take nothing less than death to
prove that he had been mistaken.
The food he had brought with him from Hondura’s camp grew monotonous
before long, but he managed to vary his diet by turtle eggs, fish and
the bringing down of an occasional wild pig.
Sometimes he stopped to cook the meat; at other times he ate it raw.
Always he hurried on, flogging himself to renewed effort, allowing only
the most meager intervals for food and rest.
Then one day, when he had come upon the trail of a tapir and was
stalking it, that sixth sense of his told him that he, too, was being
followed.
He faced about and stood tense and silent, eyes searching the shadows
of the jungle.
At first he heard and saw nothing and was almost inclined to chide
himself for his suspicions. Then a slight movement in the underbrush at
his right caught his eye.
Now he saw what had before been hidden from him, a crouching, sinuous
body, ears laid flat against a wicked head, eyes gleaming and greedy.
“A jaguar!” muttered Bomba, as he quickly fitted an arrow to his bow.
“Already they lie in wait for me. Bomba must kill this one as a warning
to the others to beware.”
But even as Bomba stretched his bow, the jaguar, giving a ferocious
roar, sprang!