THE GIANT CATARACT
The old man sobbed as he hugged the lad to his breast.
Bomba’s joy at the reunion was no less, though his bound hands
prevented him from returning the embrace.
When at last they stood apart and looked fondly at each other, Bomba
was grieved to the heart to see the ravages that the hardships and
miseries of the journey had made in the face and frame of the old
naturalist. The first was so thin as to be almost transparent, and the
latter had wasted to a shadow.
But he was still alive. Bomba had not come too late to see him once
more in the flesh. He would still have a chance of rescuing him and
taking him back to the old cabin where he could end his days in peace.
But the boy’s heart sank as he looked at the bonds on his own wrists
and realized how slight his chances were to rescue anybody while he was
a captive himself.
When their first emotion had somewhat subsided, Bomba had time to look
about for the others that he knew. Many faces were strange to him,
and it was evident that, from the headhunters’ point of view, their
foray had been crowned with great success. They were carrying back an
unusually large number of prisoners, some to be tortured and killed,
others to drag out a lifetime of misery.
Bomba’s eyes lighted on Pipina, who came forward eagerly and threw her
arms about his neck with an outburst of tears and broken ejaculations.
Also, there was Hondura, the Araos chief, who greeted him merely with a
grunt and the habitual stolidity of his race.
Then his eyes fell upon Pirah, the young daughter of Hondura, who,
herself unbound, came running toward him with outstretched arms.
She clasped Bomba’s hands fondly, noting sorrowfully that they were
bound, and snuggled close up to him, smiling in his face. He reached
down, and as she drew near, rubbed her cheek with his.
“Is Bomba glad to see Pirah?” she asked almost happily.
“Yes,” answered the boy, forbearing to add that he would far rather
never have seen her at all than to see her in such a position. “Pirah
saved Bomba’s life when he came to the village of the Araos, and Bomba
will never forget.”
“But no, Bomba, you must not be glad. We are captives,” and the
child’s bright face clouded. “We go as slaves. You may not teach me,
as you did before, to shoot the bow and arrow. Do you remember when
you came to our village that you showed me how to use your bow? But
now--oh, what is to become of you, of me?”
Every word the little girl uttered stabbed Bomba to the heart. She
had saved his life once. She was his friend, and he had all too few
friends. He shuddered to think of what might be the fate of this
innocent child in the hands of the savage headhunters.
Their captors were preparing to break camp and were so busy with their
packing that for the time the prisoners were left to themselves. That
gave Bomba his chance to get together with Casson, Hondura and Pipina,
and exchange experiences.
He learned, to his relief, that they had not been treated as harshly as
he had feared. Their captors had kept them fairly well fed. But they
had told them frankly and gleefully why they did this. They wanted them
to be strong enough to endure for a long time the tortures that would
be meted out to them at the great festival that would attend the entry
of the triumphant warriors into their village.
But however fiendish might be the motive, the fact remained that the
prisoners were fairly strong and well. Bomba was glad of this, as
it would facilitate matters if a chance offered to make a break for
liberty.
He told them in detail of his own adventures, not neglecting the way he
had shamed Nascanora, at which they laughed gleefully. And he brought
new courage to them by telling them that the Araos, with all the
strength they could muster from other tribes, were following on their
trail. At any time now they might appear in sight and deliver them.
While he was talking he looked up and saw two figures approaching him.
They were downcast and abject and held their faces so low on their
breasts that at first he did not recognize them. But as they drew
nearer, he saw that they were Ashati and Neram.
“You here, too?” he said, as they squatted down beside him.
“Yes, master,” Ashati answered for both, while Neram nodded his head
despondently.
“I am sorry,” said Bomba. “How did it come that you fell into the hands
of Nascanora?”
“We were waiting for you near the bank of the river,” replied Ashati,
“when we heard the march of feet. We hid in the jungle, hoping that the
enemy would go past and not see us. But they had with them the man you
caught and who told you the way to go to the island of Sobrinini. He
led them to the place where you met him, and they beat the bushes till
they found us.”
“And that man told Nascanora that I had gone to the island, and that is
why they came there for me!” exclaimed Bomba.
“We should have killed the man while we had him on the ground,” stated
Neram.
“No,” said Bomba. “But it would have been well to have bound him and
left him with you until after Nascanora had passed by. Yet the man
swore by his gods that he would not tell.”
“Nascanora has ways of making men speak,” put in Ashati significantly.
“His heart is as black as Jojasta’s was,” declared Neram, as though
that summed up the total of human depravity. “He will torture us with
fire and steel and then place our heads on the wigwams of his people.”
“I do not think so,” said Bomba. “Sobrinini told me that I would get
away from him. And Bomba will not leave his friends Ashati and Neram
behind.”
The news helped to dissipate the gloom on the countenances of the
slaves.
“If Sobrinini said so, it must be true!” exclaimed Ashati, “for she is
a witch.”
“The greatest in all the jungle,” confirmed Neram. “She is very wise.
Her snakes whisper in her ears and tell her what will be in the days
to come.”
They turned away much cheered and comforted, and just then their
captors gave the signal for the march.
The prisoners were herded roughly together in the center of the
marching columns, so that there could be no possible chance to escape.
Fortunately, they had had a long rest while the war party under
Nascanora had been making the raid on Snake Island, so they were in
fairly good condition for the journey, and that the journey would not
be a long one was now evident from the thunderous sound that grew
ever louder and louder in their ears. They were approaching the Giant
Cataract, where dwelt Nascanora and his people.
To the hapless prisoners, that sound was like the knell of doom.
The thunderous sound increased in volume, and suddenly at a turn in the
trail, the most magnificent sight that Bomba had ever seen burst upon
them.
They had reached the Giant Cataract!