THE MAD MONKEY
Ashati and Neram dropped to their knees before Bomba, clasping his
hands and bowing their black heads before him. Neram, bending lower,
took one of Bomba’s sandaled feet and placed it on his neck as a sign
that he was slave and Bomba master.
The heart of the lonely boy swelled at this sign of gratitude and
affection. He stooped and raised the kneeling men, and made them stand
on their feet before him.
“You have saved Bomba’s life,” he said with deep feeling. “If you had
not come when you did the jaguars would have killed him. Bomba will not
forget.”
“Ashati and Neram would have been nothing now but bones buried in
the heart of the Moving Mountain if you had not come to their help,”
replied Ashati, who seemed to be the spokesman for the two. “You saved
them from death, and freed them from the cruel yoke of Jojasta, the
medicine man. Ashati and Neram have no master but Bomba, and will go
anywhere in the jungle at the side of Bomba as his slave. Their lives
belong to Bomba.”
“You shall go with me wherever I go,” replied Bomba. “But you shall go
as my friends and not as my slaves. Bomba has nothing to offer you but
friendship. If you will take that and go with him, he will be glad.”
So it was settled, and with many more expressions of gratitude and
devotion on the part of the ex-slaves of Jojasta, Bomba and the two
men set to work to skin and quarter one of the dead jaguars that had
unwittingly furnished them a feast.
While engaged in this and the building of a fire for the roasting of
the best portions of the meat, Ashati and Neram imparted to Bomba news
that he was anxious to hear.
In their wanderings they had noted the bands of Nascanora and his
half-brother, Tocarora, heading in the direction of the Giant Cataract.
This had been only two days before and not far from the place where
they were now standing. From their hiding place in the brush, the
slaves had seen that each party had with it a number of captives.
“Was there a white man among them?” asked Bomba eagerly.
“Yes,” replied Ashati; “an old man, very thin and with white hair.”
Bomba’s heart leaped. Casson then was still alive! He had not succumbed
to the hardships of the journey.
“Can you take Bomba to the place where you saw them and point out to
him the way they were going?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Ashati. “But they must be a long way from there now, for
they were going fast. And they kept looking behind them as though they
thought men were coming after them.”
The news set Bomba on fire with impatience to be off. Under his urging
and example, the roasting of the meat was swiftly completed. He divided
the food equally between the three of them. Whatever might happen to
them in the future, it was certain that they would not starve.
After they had got fairly started, with Ashati as guide, toward the
spot where the path of the slaves had crossed that of the savages,
Bomba narrated to his companions some of his experiences since he had
left the hut of Pipina.
When he came to the part that concerned the loss of his bow and arrows,
Ashati insisted that the boy should take his and that he, Ashati, could
do very well with his hunting knife. Besides, he would make another set
of weapons at their first resting place.
Bomba would have refused, but seeing that he could not do so without
hurting the feelings of the devoted fellow, at last accepted the gift.
“It was an arrow from that bow that found the heart of the jaguar that
would have sunk its claws in your flesh and ripped it from the bones,”
said Ashati, as he handed it over.
“Bomba has not asked you yet how it was you came just in time to save
his life,” said the lad.
“We hunted Bomba day and night,” Ashati replied. “Our lives were yours,
for you had saved them. We came on your trail in the jungle, and
followed after. Ashati saw you in the tree as the jaguar lifted its paw
to strike. Then Ashati prayed to the Spirit of the Jungle and shot his
arrow. The Spirit made it go straight, and the jaguar died.”
It was now late afternoon, and Bomba and his followers had not traveled
far before the swift tropic night descended on them and forced them to
rest for the night.
Bomba chafed at the necessity, though he himself was almost exhausted
in mind and body by the stirring events of the day that had taxed both
to the utmost.
He was up with the dawn, however, and, rousing Ashati and Neram,
summoned them to share his hasty breakfast and start on the day’s
journey. They obeyed with willingness, though no more than half awake.
Their bodies wasted and their strength sapped by years of deprivation
and torments at the hands of Jojasta could not throw off the fatigue
as readily as the healthy jungle lad, whose veins were pulsing with
vitality.
But Bomba’s quest of Nascanora could not wait. Delay, however slight,
might result in the death of his friends, if indeed they still lived.
If Ashati and Neram could travel at Bomba’s pace, he would be glad to
have them with him, for they were companions in his loneliness and
allies in case of danger.
But if they could not keep up with him, he would have to go on ahead,
leaving them to join him when they could.
But once roused, they seemed as eager as himself to continue the
journey. Even the prospect of an encounter with Nascanora and his
braves did not deter them, as long as they were under Bomba’s
leadership. What they had already seen of him had led them to attribute
to him almost magical power. Their anxiety to please and serve the lad
in every way they could deeply touched Bomba, in whose life loyalty and
service of any kind had been so sadly lacking.
They stamped out the embers of the fire they had built to keep off the
jungle beasts during the night, ate of their supply of jaguar meat,
and struck onward through the forest in the direction of the Giant
Cataract.
The sun rose higher, and with full daylight came a fresh burst of speed
on the part of Bomba. If Ashati and Neram found it hard to keep up with
him, they did not murmur. They would have suffered any hardship rather
than be left behind by him whom they had chosen as their master.
They traveled all day without meeting with any unusual adventure,
pausing only briefly at noon to roast some jaboty eggs they found in
the forest that gave a welcome variation to their meat diet.
The shadows were beginning to gather when they came at last to the spot
where the paths of the slaves and the two parties of headhunters had
crossed.
The trail of the Indians was cold, but it was not difficult for one so
versed in woodcraft as Bomba to pick it up. There was still a little
daylight remaining, and he persisted in utilizing every moment of it to
gain another mile or two before he called a halt for the night.
On and on they went, although by this time they were nearly stumbling
with fatigue. They were penetrating a part of the jungle that was new
to Bomba. Pools, swelled by the recent rain, were frequent, some of
them so deep that it was necessary to cross them by notched trunks of
trees, the crude bridges of the jungle.
Crossing one of these, Ashati, wearied almost to fainting, stumbled
and would have fallen had not Bomba seized him and dragged him to the
safety of the further bank.
They had gone but a few yards farther, Bomba’s eyes straining to detect
the faintly marked trail, when there was a thud, and on the ground
before them, directly in their path, appeared a figure so grotesque in
form and ugly in face that Bomba took a startled step backward and the
two slaves fell to the ground in a fit of shuddering terror.
“The mad monkey!” chattered Neram, and then, as the creature advanced
on them, uttered an ear-piercing shriek.
Gibbering and mouthing ferociously, froth slavering from its jaws, the
huge ape sprang toward Bomba and the cowering slaves.
Bomba was paralyzed at first by the hideous appearance of the beast and
infected to some degree with the superstitious terror that animated
Ashati and Neram. He seemed bereft of the power of movement.
Then gathering together his forces, he sprang backward swiftly and
fitted an arrow to his bow.