THE CREEPING DEATH
Bomba, his head in a whirl, staggered back from the window when he
heard the sinister words:
“Was not that the name of the man Japazy killed?”
Was it possible that the father whom he had sought so long was really
dead? Had all his search been futile?
But the despair that this thought brought him was quickly swallowed up
by another emotion. Rage, blinding rage, at the man who had killed his
father, at Japazy, the half-breed, the arrogant, heartless monster who
lorded it over this ignorant people.
If this should prove true--that Japazy was really his father’s
murderer--Bomba then and there vowed vengeance. Let Japazy look to
himself! Let him gather all his ghosts and demons to protect him! They
would be of no avail. Bomba’s arrow or Bomba’s knife would find the
black heart of the half-breed! His father’s murder should be avenged!
Bomba knew nothing of the Christian law of forgiveness. He had been
brought up in the jungle, whose first law was self-preservation,
whose second law was vengeance for evil received. If Japazy had taken
Bartow’s life, Japazy’s life must pay the forfeit.
Oh, if Japazy were only here! Oh, if Bomba could meet him face to face
and wrest the truth from him! The lad paced the room, gnashing his
teeth with impatience.
His restless pacings brought him beneath the lovely pictured face on
the wall. He gazed at it yearningly. If she were his mother, perhaps
she still lived, even if his father was dead.
Then another thought came to him and his rage flamed up anew. Perhaps
she, too, had fallen a victim to Japazy. The hand that slew the one
might also have slain the other. In that case, Bomba would owe a double
debt of vengeance. And he would pay that debt!
Oh, if he only knew!
But there was nothing he could do until Japazy returned.
Suppose, however, that Japazy did not return? What if any one of the
thousand perils of the jungle should cut short his life? Then perhaps
Bomba could never get the knowledge for which his soul panted. He
would be cheated, too, of his vengeance--supposing it were true that
Japazy had indeed slain his father.
Even while immersed in these gloomy reflections, a gleam of hope came
to Bomba.
Abino!
Perhaps Abino knew. He was the chosen counselor of Japazy as far as
that haughty despot permitted any one to advise him. Perhaps he was
also the repository of Japazy’s secrets. Those quick and furtive
glances that Abino had cast at the picture on the wall! What did they
mean? What did Abino know?
Tired out finally by these ponderings and questionings, Bomba at last
threw himself on the floor and slept. And for this he chose a place
directly beneath the picture, where those lovely, tender eyes could
look down upon him.
It was dark when he woke, and the immediate occasion of his waking was
the entrance of Solani, bringing his supper.
The boy lighted a torch and thrust it into a holder against the wall.
By its light, Bomba noted that the boy looked disturbed and frightened.
“Solani is sad to-night,” observed Bomba, as he prepared to eat the
meal that the lad had set on the table. “What is it that makes the
heart of Solani heavy?”
The boy looked about him carefully, and when he answered, it was almost
in a whisper.
“Solani grieves because he fears that harm may come to the stranger,”
he replied.
“Who would bring harm to Bomba, except perhaps Japazy?” asked the
jungle lad. “And Japazy is not here. Unless Japazy has come since you
brought the last meat to Bomba,” he added.
“Japazy is not here,” replied Solani. “But the people of the tribe are
fearful of his wrath if he should come and find the stranger here. They
think that Japazy will not be glad to hear the stranger’s words about
his father and his mother. They fear that Japazy may be angry because
they did not kill the stranger as soon as he landed on Jaguar Island.”
Bomba’s heart sank. Was it possible that the elders, believing that
Japazy had killed the boy’s father, were fearful that he had come to
take vengeance on their chief?
To be sure, he was only a boy, but he had that very day demonstrated
that he had strength, skill, and courage that any warrior of the tribe
would have found it hard to match.
“It cannot be that the elders of the tribe would do harm to a stranger
who came with his palms out and put himself into their keeping,” said
Bomba. “That would bring on the people the wrath of the gods.”
“They do not fear the wrath of the gods as much as they fear the wrath
of Japazy,” returned Solani. “The gods are very far away. Japazy is
near.”
No better proof than this statement, simply made, could have been
afforded of the tremendous power exercised by the crafty half-breed
over the superstitious people through the strength of his personality
and his talk of ghosts and demons.
“What do the elders of the tribe say about Bomba?” questioned the
jungle lad, with an assumption of carelessness that he was far from
feeling.
“They meet to-night to take counsel,” answered Solani. “Then it will
be known what they think about the stranger and what they will do with
him.”
“Where do they meet?” asked Bomba, who was already forming a plan of
action.
“In the house of Abino, my father,” was the answer.
“Is that the house where Bomba was taken before he was brought to the
house of Japazy?” Bomba further queried.
“Yes,” replied Solani.
“It is well,” said Bomba. “Their words will be good words and they will
do no harm to the stranger that came to them in peace.”
Solani looked very doubtful as to that, but he said no more, and Bomba
himself did not prolong the conversation. He was too busy with his
thoughts.
He could readily understand that, in order to curry favor with the
tyrant, they might make a sacrifice of Bomba. It was for him to
forestall this, if possible, and to learn their plans before they were
put into execution.
“Has the stranger ever seen a cooanaradi?” asked Solani unexpectedly,
as he started to gather up the dishes and the remnants of food.
“Yes, Bomba has seen them and slain them,” answered the jungle boy.
“They are the most wicked snakes of the jungle. Why does Solani ask?”
But Solani acted as though he had already said too much and did not
reply. He hastily finished his task and disappeared. But as he went
out of the door he turned and looked once more at Bomba with a long,
lingering glance as though he never expected to see him again.
The look made Bomba uneasy. What did Solani know that he had been
afraid to say? That he meant to warn him to be on his guard was
evident. Probably even in going that far the native lad had done what
he had been forbidden to do.
Bomba waited until it was fully dark. It was then within an hour of
moonrise, and darkness was needed for the plan that he had in mind.
He went stealthily through the house, examining every room by the light
of the torch he had plucked from the wall. He thought that perhaps
some sentries were on guard to watch his movements. But the dwelling
appeared to be deserted. It had probably been decided that any one
who had braved so many perils in coming to Jaguar Island would not be
inclined to leave it before his mission had been accomplished.
Having ascertained to his satisfaction that no one was lurking in the
shadows, he went back to his room and carefully examined his weapons.
Having found that they were in perfect order, he extinguished the
torch, after one last loving look at the pictured face upon the wall,
and slipped out of the house like a shadow.
There was scarcely any one abroad. Doubtless the fear that a jaguar
might be lurking about kept the inhabitants indoors after dark. Even
if Bomba should be met by any one, the probability was that in the
darkness he would pass as one of their own people.
With the keen observation that had been sharpened by his experience of
the jungle, he had carefully noted the location of Abino’s house and
now had no difficulty in finding it.
A flickering light from the torches within shone through the open
windows. Avoiding the part that fronted on the straggling street,
Bomba glided round to the back of the house and crouched under one of
the openings that served as windows. That the conference was already
in session was evident from the hum of conversation that came to the
unseen listener.
The first word that Bomba could distinguish was the last that he had
heard from the lips of Solani, “cooanaradi.” The coincidence sent a
shiver through his veins. That word of evil omen, the word that stood
for the fiercest and deadliest snake in the Amazonian jungle! What
significance did it have in a conversation that presumably concerned
itself with Bomba?
The house was made of rough logs with many crevices. Applying his eyes
to one of these, Bomba could see what was going on in the room without
the risk of discovery that would be involved in lifting his head above
the window sill.
In the room were gathered the same elders with whom he had talked in
the afternoon. To their number had been added the warriors, Sunka and
Boshot, who had slain the jaguar in the morning.
An expression of deep perplexity was visible on all the dark faces. It
was plain that the problem with which they had to deal was giving them
a great deal of concern.
Bomba listened intently, trying not to lose a syllable. Abino was
speaking.
“It is certain that Japazy will not wish to see the stranger,” he said.
“Who would wish to see the son of the man he had killed?”
“Is it known to Abino that Japazy killed the stranger’s father?” asked
Boshot.
“Japazy has not told it to Abino,” was the answer. “But when Japazy has
taken too much intoxicating drink he has talked sometimes to himself
and Abino’s ears have been open to his words. The stranger thinks his
father’s name was Bartow. When Japazy’s speech has been thick he has
spoken the name of Bartow and made motions with his knife. Then he has
said, ‘Bartow is dead.’ Then Japazy has smiled as if he were glad.”
“Did Japazy kill the stranger’s mother, too?” asked Sunka.
“Abino does not know,” the native replied. “Japazy has not spoken of
that. But many times he has gone to look at the woman’s face on the
wall, and when he turned away Japazy’s face was net good to see.”
“It may be that Japazy has questions he would ask of the stranger,
as well as hear the stranger’s questions,” put in one of the elders.
“Japazy may be angry if he comes back and finds the stranger dead so
that he may not speak with him.”
“He need not know that the stranger has been here,” observed another of
the group. “We can put the people under silence so that they will not
speak of his coming.”
“That would be better than to have the stranger kill Japazy,” remarked
the eldest of the company. “The stranger speaks smooth words, but who
knows what black thoughts are in his heart? And if he wounds but does
not kill Japazy, what will Japazy do to us because we did not kill the
stranger when he came among us?”
That this consideration had weight was evident from the grave
expression of his hearers.
At this moment there was a terrific roar from the volcano and the earth
shook so violently under Bomba’s feet that he was thrown headlong. For
several minutes the quake continued and then gradually subsided.
When Bomba peered again through the crevice he could note consternation
on all faces.
“Tamura is angry,” declared Abino solemnly. “To-day he has been more
angry than for many moons. Why is that? It is because to-day the
stranger came. He does not like the stranger. He wants that he should
die. Tamura has spoken.”
A chill went through Bomba’s veins. It had been very unlucky for him
that the convulsion should have come at the very moment that they were
debating his fate. Now, as he looked from face to face, he could read
his doom. To their minds the god of the mountain had spoken, and it
only remained for them to bow to the decree.
There were whispers now, as though what they were discussing was too
horrid to be spoken of aloud. Strain his ears as he might, Bomba could
catch but a single sentence:
“He shall die by the creeping death!”