“Casson!” cried Bomba.
“Bomba!” exclaimed Casson pantingly as he threw his arms about the boy’s shoulders.
CHAPTER XXI
THE GIANT CATARACT
The old man sobbed as he hugged the lad to his breast.
Bomba’s joy at the reunion was no less, though his bound hands prevented him from returning the embrace.
When at last they stood apart and looked fondly at each other, Bomba was grieved to the heart to see the ravages that the hardships and miseries of the journey had made in the face and frame of the old naturalist. The first was so thin as to be almost transparent, and the latter had wasted to a shadow.
But he was still alive. Bomba had not come too late to see him once more in the flesh. He would still have a chance of rescuing him and taking him back to the old cabin where he could end his days in peace. But the boy’s heart sank as he looked at the bonds on his own wrists and realized how slight his chances were to rescue anybody while he was a captive himself.
When their first emotion had somewhat subsided, Bomba had time to look about for the others that he knew. Many faces were strange to him, and it was evident that, from the headhunters’ point of view, their foray had been crowned with great success. They were carrying back an unusually large number of prisoners, some to be tortured and killed, others to drag out a lifetime of misery.
Bomba’s eyes lighted on Pipina, who came forward eagerly and threw her arms about his neck with an outburst of tears and broken ejaculations. Also, there was Hondura, the Araos chief, who greeted him merely with a grunt and the habitual stolidity of his race.
Then his eyes fell upon Pirah, the young daughter of Hondura, who, herself unbound, came running toward him with outstretched arms.