Their bodies, dripping with sweat, gleamed in the firelight, the whites of their eyes flashed furiously and foam gathered in the corners of their mouths as they jerked and writhed in mimic warfare.
All the time the drum kept up its beating, ever faster and wilder, like the pulse of a fever patient. To this boom-boom-boom was added the yells and shrieks of the frenzied Kungoras, and above the din rose the excited chatter of monkeys in the tree tops and the shrill outcries of parrots and other birds. Even the beasts in the depths of the forest had caught the tense excitement from afar, and the black jungle echoed with the roar of lions and the trumpeting of elephants.
"What a night!" gasped Ray, tightening her grasp on Dick.
"It's a grand show!" exclaimed Dan. "Wouldn't miss it for a big league ball game!"
"Reminds me of the witch-hunt," said Dick in a low voice. "Remember the night Cimbula was picking out victims for sacrifice?"
"Gee, I thought I was a goner when that black fellow grabbed me," Dan ejaculated. "Say, let me tell you I have dreamed of that many a night and started up in a cold sweat."
"That was horrible!" Ray answered. "Every second I expected that witch-doctor to pounce on me."
"Well, Mahatma," said Dan, "you did a good job to tame those wild Kungoras. How did you ever teach them to be good? How did you make them obey you?"
"By the power of the mind," answered the Hindu. "The spirit of the wise is master of the wildest savage. Watch me, and you shall see."
Fascinated, the two boys and Ray looked on, while the Mahatma leaned back, closed his eyes and seemed to put the force of his mind upon the frenzied dancers.