Bomba the jungle boy on Jaguar Island

The effect created by the sudden appearance of Bomba was startling.

For a moment the savages gaped at him in stupefaction, eyes bulging, jaws dropped. Then some of them raised their spears and others hastily fitted arrows to their bows.

Bomba had been almost as disconcerted by his sudden betrayal as the natives themselves. But now, as steadily as the tremulous motion of the earth would permit, he stepped boldly out of his former hiding place with hands up and palms extended, as a token that he came in amity and goodwill.

The sign was one that was understood by all tribes that dwelt in the jungle, and the threatening motions ceased. Spears and bows were lowered and the natives stood looking at him in wonder. His bronzed skin was almost as dark as theirs, but they knew by his features that he belonged to a different race.

Not a word was uttered until Abino, who seemed to be the spokesman of the group, took a step forward.

“Who is the stranger?” he asked. “Why has he come to the island of Japazy?”

“It is Bomba who speaks,” replied the lad. “He comes from a far part of the jungle and he would speak to Japazy, your chief. He comes in peace. His heart is clean and he does not speak in forked words.”

“It is well that the stranger comes in peace,” returned Abino, “for the spears of Japazy’s fighting men are sharp and their arrows sing with joy when they sink into the heart of an enemy.”

“Huh!” grunted Boshot. “The men of Japazy would not waste an arrow on a boy.”

The slur stung Bomba, but he knew the importance of keeping his temper, and no change of expression was visible in his face. Still, he thought it might be just as well to let them know at the outset that though he was a boy he was no weakling.

“Bomba is but a boy,” he admitted, with an ingratiating smile. “But Bomba has the muscles of a man. He will show you.”

He walked up to the dead jaguar, put his arm under it, and with one mighty heave threw it over his shoulder.

There were excited exclamations among the Indians, and they shrank back, looking at Bomba in awe. Not one of them, despite their size, could have performed the feat so easily, if at all.

“The stranger is strong,” admitted Abino, and Boshot looked rather sheepish because of his slighting remark.

Bomba noted the impression that had been produced and thought it an opportune time to deepen it still further.

“Bomba is no weakling,” he said; “but the weapons he carries with him are stronger than Bomba. His arrows go far and they go straight. They find the eye of the cayman and the heart of the jaguar.”

“The stranger speaks big words,” retorted Sunka skeptically.

Bomba looked about him. At a distance of two hundred feet was a high tree, on the topmost branch of which a buzzard was preening itself.

“The buzzard is far away,” he said, as he fitted an arrow to his string, “but he will fall when Bomba lets go the string.”

There were grunts of incredulity mingled with curiosity. This stranger was giving them thrills to which they were unaccustomed.

“Shall Bomba’s arrow strike the body or the neck?” asked Bomba with a show of indifference.

“Now we know that the stranger boasts,” broke in Tama. “If he hit the body, he will do well.”

“It will be the neck,” declared Bomba.

The arrow sang through the air and the buzzard fell, transfixed by the arrow lodged in its neck.

Again there was an outburst of excited exclamations. The natives had never seen such shooting.

“That is but little,” said Bomba, satisfied with the impression he had produced. “Bomba has a fire stick in his pouch that speaks with the voice of thunder, and when it speaks something dies. But he will not show it now.”

The Indians looked at him with awe. Gone was the half contempt with which they had at first regarded him. No such boy had ever been seen in those parts before. In their superstitious minds was the vague, confused impression that perhaps he was one of the gods.

“Bomba would see Japazy,” went on the lad. “He has come from a far country to speak with him. Perhaps the warriors of his tribe will show Bomba where the chief dwells?”

They looked at each other questioningly.

“He is a bold man who would speak with Japazy,” said Abino. “Japazy does not like strangers. Some have been cast on the island from the river, and they have never gone back to speak of the island of the big cats. They have gone to the place of the dead.”

This had not an auspicious sound, and Bomba for a moment felt an uncomfortable chill creeping up his spine.

“Bomba has no evil thought in his mind,” the lad rejoined. “He does not seek any of Japazy’s goods, and he will not say anything that will bring harm to Japazy or his people. He would only ask a question of Japazy.”

His hearers still looked extremely dubious, and Bomba thought that he could detect pity in some of the glances directed toward him.

“It is not for Japazy’s people to know what is in the mind of their chief,” said Abino. “Japazy does as he wills and his words mean life or death.”

“He will speak life for Bomba,” replied the lad, with an assumption of confidence that he was a long way from feeling. “Will Japazy’s fighting men take Bomba to their chief?”

They drew apart and conferred together. It was evident that even this simple request required thought before it could be granted. Bomba could see that, if Japazy resented his coming, his wrath might fall upon those who had brought the unwelcome stranger to his presence instead of killing him on the spot.

There was an animated discussion that at times almost reached the dimensions of a quarrel. But at last they came to a conclusion and Abino turned toward Bomba.

“The stranger shall go to Japazy,” he announced. “But he must have his hands bound so that he may do no harm to Japazy or his people.”

Bomba took a step backward.

“Bomba is free,” he said proudly. “It is not meet that he have his hands bound as though he were a slave. His hands will do no hurt to Japazy or the people of his tribe. Bomba’s heart is good. Has he not said that he came in peace? May the curse of the gods rest on Bomba, if he means harm.”

His earnestness seemed to make an impression, but still the tribesmen hesitated.

“The stranger then must give up his bow and his knife and the fire stick that speaks with the voice of thunder,” suggested Abino, as a compromise.

But Bomba shook his head.

“The bow, the knife and the fire stick are Bomba’s friends,” he declared. “Without them he would be like a man without arms and legs. They will do harm to no one but the wicked. Bomba will keep his friends.”

They could have fallen upon him and overpowered him by sheer weight of numbers. But they had seen a demonstration of his skill and knew that he would take toll of some of them before he succumbed. Any one who could shoot a buzzard through the neck at two hundred feet and sling a jaguar over his shoulders, was to be treated with respect. And doubtless the mention of the fire stick that spoke with the voice of thunder had been extremely potent.

Again there was a discussion and again the Indians yielded the point in question.

“It shall be as the stranger wills,” announced Abino. “The warriors of Japazy will skin the jaguar and take its meat and then they will lead the stranger to the place where Japazy dwells.”

“It is well,” said Bomba, with more relief than he allowed to appear. “The men of Japazy have good hearts.”

The men set to work on the jaguar, and Bomba helped them. The dexterity and sureness with which he wielded his knife contributed still further to the respect the Indians had conceived for him.

When the work was finished the men lifted up their respective burdens and led the way, with Bomba bringing up the rear. He did not think that any treachery was intended, for Abino, somehow, had given him an impression of sincerity. But he was on the alert and ready for instant action at any suspicious movement, for his life in the jungle had taught him to take no chances.

Nothing untoward developed, however, and before long they came to the straggling outskirts of a village that seemed to have a considerable population. From every hut, as the little procession moved along, people poured out with exclamations of curiosity as they stared at the stranger who should have been a captive and yet walked behind the rest more with the air of a conqueror.

Most of the houses were of the usual native cabin type, but in the center of the town was a building of so much greater pretensions that Bomba concluded it must be the dwelling of Japazy.

Abino led Bomba to a little cabin not far from the palace, if it could be dignified by that name, and left him there with the promise that he would see Japazy and return.

He did return in less than five minutes.

“Japazy is gone!” he declared abruptly.