There was the twang of the bow and the deadly missile whined through the air
As she exultantly viewed the prostrate form a pang of fear shot through her heart. What if he should be dead? She would be cheated out of the delicacies and also the laurels to which the victor was always entitled. In haste she knelt by his side and placed one hand over his heart; it was fluttering weakly. She rushed to the river and brought water in a folded plantain leaf and dashed it into his face. After that she pried open his eyelids with her fingers.
Oomah regained his senses with a start and his eyes met the grimaces of the delighted Nechi.
“Sabana is not dead!” she exclaimed.
“No, the stranger is not dead—not quite dead.”
“You are mine. I will take you to the village; it is less than half a rest away. I will feed you and cure you of the fever. You are mine.”
Oomah looked again at his discoverer, and closed his eyes.
“I know you,” he said feebly. “You are of the Patocos who have eaten many of my people.”
“Yes, I am of the Patocos and we have eaten many of the Cantanas. When you are well and fat again we will eat you too.”
The youth showed no emotion. What mattered it if the girl should make good her threat, now that his mission had failed?