THE VOLCANO’S ROAR
Simultaneously with the crack of the revolver Bomba threw himself from
the further side of the bed to the floor.
There was a terrible thrashing about of the reptile’s body, and Bomba
knew that it had been hit. But whether it was mortally or only slightly
wounded he could not tell.
He held the revolver in readiness for a second shot, fearing every
moment to see that dreadful head reappear.
But no second shot was necessary. A few more moments and the convulsive
movements ceased.
The cooanaradi was dead!
With infinite caution Bomba tiptoed to the other side of the bed. Now
there was no doubt. The reptile’s head was practically gone, shattered
into fragments by that first shot.
Bomba slumped down on the bed, hardly able to believe in his good
fortune. He caressed the revolver lovingly and slipped in another
cartridge to take the place of the one that had done such good service.
He had scarcely had time to collect his scattered thoughts before there
was a noise outside as of people running. He looked out of the window
and saw a number of shadowy forms, thrown into relief by the torches
that they carried.
Some of the foremost halted under the window and Bomba could recognize
Abino, Sunka, and Boshot, besides a couple of the elders who had been
at the conference.
They had reached there so quickly following the shot that Bomba felt
sure that they had been lurking in the vicinity, waiting for the
cooanaradi to get in its deadly work.
Bomba smiled grimly to himself as he noted that they stopped at the
window. He well knew why. Not one of them cared to come into a house in
which they believed a cooanaradi was wandering around.
Then, like a flash, the thought came to him that he might turn what
threatened to be a calamity into a blessing. Why should not the dead
serpent prove a protector, a guardian of the dwelling? As long as they
believed it was at large not one would risk stepping foot inside the
door.
With this belief on the part of the Indians to aid him, Bomba might be
able to hold the place until Japazy returned. At any rate, he would be
able to choose his own time for leaving.
There was a whispered consultation beneath the window and then Abino
called:
“Is the stranger still awake?”
Bomba waited for a moment and then leaned out of the window.
“He is awake. Does Abino want to speak words with him? Bomba’s ears are
open.”
“Abino and the elders heard a great noise, and they feared that harm
had come to the stranger,” the native returned. “They have come to help
him, if he is in trouble.”
To help him! The men who had sent the serpent to strike him down!
Bomba’s blood boiled. But he restrained himself with an effort, and his
tone was silken as he replied:
“It is good of Abino and the elders to want to help Bomba. But he is
not in trouble. But why do Abino and the elders stand beneath the
window? Will they not come in and talk with Bomba?”
In the moonlight he could see the movement of horrified recoil at the
suggestion, and again he smiled grimly to himself.
“The stranger needs sleep,” replied Abino, after a momentary pause. “It
is not well for us to talk with him when his eyes are heavy.”
“Bomba is not tired, and he would be glad to speak words with Abino and
the elders,” returned the lad. “He is lonely. There is none here for
him to talk to except the cooanaradi.”
There was a gasp of amazement.
“The cooanaradi!” came in a chorus from startled throats.
“Yes,” replied Bomba, with an ostentatious yawn. “The cooanaradi came
in to talk with Bomba. Bomba talked to him. Bomba knows how to talk
with the cooanaradi. He will not hurt Bomba. Bomba has his hand on him
now,” and he reached down and touched the grisly coils. “He will not
hurt any one who does not mean harm to Bomba.”
A yell of fright came from the superstitious natives. What magic was
this of which the stranger was master, this mysterious lad who spoke of
the dreaded scourge of the jungle as though it were a cooing dove, who
could place his hand upon it and still remain alive?
They turned to retreat in a flight of panic when Bomba’s voice stayed
them.
“Abino will send food to Bomba in the morning?” he inquired.
There was a moment’s pause, and then Abino replied in a trembling voice:
“Abino would not dare have Solani come into the house where a
cooanaradi is.”
Bomba seemed to consider this.
“It is well,” he replied. “Solani does not know how to talk to the
cooanaradi as Bomba does. But he can bring food beneath the window in a
basket and Bomba will draw it up.”
“Solani shall come,” promised Abino.
Their figures melted away in the distance and Bomba chuckled as he
turned away. His reputation as a wizard was made. They were as afraid
of him as they were of death. Now he could rest in tranquillity of soul
until Japazy returned. For the first time in his life a cooanaradi had
proved a friend--an involuntary friend, to be sure, but none the less a
friend.
Bomba threw himself on the bed and in a few minutes was fast asleep.
For hours he slept.
Then came a tremendous roar, a fearful explosion that sounded like the
crack of doom!
Bomba sprang from his bed and rushed to the window.
The heavens were a glare of red, and the glare was fiercest over in the
direction where Tamura lay.