Bomba the jungle boy

For a moment Bomba was so taken aback by the sight of the jaguar that he did not stir.

His harmonica was still between his lips, and the sudden exclamation that was forced from him droned through the mouth organ in a weird, discordant note.

The wailing cry had a strange and instant effect upon the beast. It had crouched as though for a spring, but now it hesitated. It had never seen a human with a gleaming mouth like that. It had never heard that kind of sound. The jungle beast is a creature of habit. Anything new is disconcerting.

Bomba noted instantly the effect, and took advantage of it. He could see that the beast was bewildered and a bit daunted. He wished, if possible, to avoid a physical contest with the huge creature at such close quarters.

So, while his right hand stole slowly to the revolver in his belt, he maintained the harmonica at his mouth with his left and launched into a refrain that had no melody but which was a mere mass of discordant notes.

The tense attitude of the jaguar relaxed and he settled down on his haunches, his greenish-yellow eyes fastened on Bomba, who in turn stared at him with equal intensity.

The boy was vibrating with excitement, but he let no sign of this appear. Everything depended on his keeping his nerve. The beast was evidently uncertain what to do.

As Bomba played on, there flashed through his mind a story that Casson had told him in a moment of expansion, a story of the snake charmers in a faraway land of which Bomba had forgotten the name. Casson had said that when these men had played on a musical instrument, fierce and poisonous snakes had become as mild and harmless as rabbits and had submitted to be handled without a thought of resistance.

To be sure, a jaguar was not a snake, but might not the same rule apply? He had already seen that he had laid a sort of spell on the creature. How long would it last?

In any event, he had his knife and the revolver as last resorts. And so he kept on playing. He did not know how long he could keep it up; but he was committed to the test. Perhaps he was playing for his life.

One thing he was quick to notice. When he played softly, the jaguar showed evidence of pleasure. Its muscles seemed to relax, and had it not been for the noise he was making Bomba was sure he could have heard it purr.

But when the notes swelled out more sharply the brute moved restlessly and whined. It shook its head, as though to shake the noise from its ears. The strain jarred upon it, hurt it.

Bomba hardly knew how to interpret this. Would the louder notes stir the beast to anger and attack? Or would it create in it such pain and discomfort that it would seek refuge in retreat?

On the mere chance of the latter solution, he abandoned the softer strain altogether and blew with all his might. He was risking everything on a single cast.

The answer was not long in coming. The look that came into the jaguar’s eyes was not of rage but of confusion and distress. It scrambled to its feet, looked about uncertainly for a moment, and then turned tail and slunk off into the jungle.

Bomba kept on playing until he was sure that the brute was far away. Then the reaction came on him, and he sank down on the ground, weak and limp and covered with perspiration.

With his immense relief was mingled a new sense of gratitude to the white men. Twice now their gifts had saved his life. Was there any limit to their magic?

He did not know that the white men themselves would have been astounded at this application of their musical gift. All the jungle lad looked at was the result. It was another link that bound him to the men who seemed in some vague way to bind Bomba’s destiny to the race to which he belonged.

He was aroused from his reflections by a squeak from the branches above, and, looking up, he saw the face of Doto, who had disappeared like a flash at the entrance of the jaguar upon the scene and had now ventured back.

With a glint of mischief in his eyes, Bomba blew a few notes on the harmonica. Again Doto darted back, but not with such alarm as before.

When the monkey’s face again looked through the branches, Bomba managed to coax him nearer and nearer until at last he dropped from the lowest branch and squatted close to the boy on the ground.

Encouraged by this show of daring on the part of one of their number, the others began to return, peering cautiously at first and from a distance, but coming closer as their curiosity drove them on.

At last, when he had played them all back to him and Woowoo and Kiki were once more perched trustingly on his shoulders, Bomba passed the mouth organ to Doto.

Doto took it hesitantly, drawing back his hands several times before his long fingers closed firmly on the strange toy. The excited chattering of the monkeys mingled with the raucous notes of the parrots as they flaunted their gorgeous plumage about the boy’s head.

Doto regarded the strange instrument with a good deal of concentration. He was not at all sure that he liked it. It took Bomba some time to persuade him to put it to his lips. Then by expelling his breath sharply several times he finally made the monkey understand that he wanted him to blow on it.

One horrible squawk issued from the harmonica. Then Doto dropped it on the ground like a shot and scuttled in panic to the nearest tree.

Some of the more timid among the flock followed him, but most of them remained with Bomba. One young monkey, bolder than the rest, picked up the instrument.

Instantly Doto dropped from the tree, chattering angrily. He boxed the ears of the young monkey soundly and snatched the harmonica from him. He handled the plaything gingerly and held it out to Bomba.

The boy showed his white teeth in an amused smile and took back the instrument. Doto did not want it, but he was going to make sure that no other monkey got it!

It was good to be here in the jungle with his friends. Bomba would have been glad to stay longer, but there was still much for him to do and he must not leave Casson too long alone.

So reluctantly he said good-bye to them, though they besought him in their way to stay, and set off toward the ygapo.

He had scarcely started when there arose such an excited tumult in the trees that he knew something out of the ordinary had happened or was about to happen.

He seized a low-lying branch and swung himself into a tree.

The screeching and howling increased in volume, and through the foliage of the trees Bomba could see a veritable swarm of monkeys approaching him. They swung from branch to branch in frantic haste, howling with rage and fear.

They were in trouble! They were coming to him for help!