“Rip a fellow to pieces before he’d gone ten steps,” groaned the boy.
As his position in this small mahogany tree with its smooth limbs became all but unbearable, he cast about for relief. Next to this tree was a larger one and beyond that a great, broad-spreading palm.
“If only I can reach the palm,” he told himself, “I will at least have a comfortable place to rest and maybe grab a few moments of sleep.”
Tying the dead peccary to his back, he climbed out as far as he dared upon his limb, then executed a sort of flying leap for the next tree. It was a daring venture, but a successful one. Five minutes later, with the carefully dressed peccary meat hanging nearby, he sank into a cushioned depth of the palm tree and was soon fast asleep.
Some time later, much later, he awoke. At first, as he attempted to gaze about him, he could not believe his senses.
“It can’t be true,” he insisted. “There has been an eclipse. I have gone blind. It can’t be night!”
But it was. Overcome by exhaustion and the humid heat of the tropics, he had slept the day through and a short way into the night. So had passed the day that was to have seen his raft built and launched, to have seen him on his way back to camp.
“And here I am!” he exclaimed in disgust.
“Well, at any rate,” he sighed, “I now have some supper and may make my way back to the rock and cook it.”
“But can I?” he started. “What of that wild horde with their ugly yellow tusks? Are they still waiting down there?”