“Beware what you do, Nascanora,” she warned. “Leave this boy alone and go your way lest I put my spell upon you. It is not well to make Sobrinini angry.”
There was a murmur of uneasiness among the savages, for the fame of Sobrinini as a witch had gone far and wide. That Nascanora himself was not wholly unmoved was evident from the way he evaded the blazing eyes of the old woman.
But he was made of sterner stuff than his followers, and he had come too far to be balked of his prey.
“I would have no quarrel with Sobrinini,” he said placatingly. “I do not wish to hurt her or her people. But the boy must go with me. Else I will kill all the people on this island and take their heads along for the women of my tribe to rejoice over. Nascanora has spoken!”
Before Sobrinini could speak, Bomba intervened. To fight against such odds was hopeless. Flight was equally impossible. He must submit to capture, and trust to his quick wit and courage to escape later.
“Listen, Sobrinini!” he said. “They are many, and I do not wish that your people should die. I will go with Nascanora. But first,” he added, turning to the chief, whose eyes were glowing with a baleful glare of triumph, “I would ask Nascanora a question.”
“Speak!” said the chief.
“Nascanora is a great chief,” said Bomba. “He is not afraid of anyone. Is it not so?”
“It is so,” replied Nascanora, rather astonished at the tribute, but swelling with pride.
“Then will Nascanora fight Bomba alone?” asked the lad. “Fight him with knives?”