Bomba could hear them moving farther and farther off until at last the sound of their footsteps and voices died away in the distance.
He could scarcely believe in his good fortune. He had steeled himself for the conflict that seemed almost inevitable and from which he had not expected to emerge alive.
The coming of the snake, which had filled him with horror, had really proved a blessing. Living, it had tried to kill him. Dead, it had helped to save him.
Bomba lay in the hollow perfectly still for some time, fearing that his enemies might return. But when an hour had passed without any sound to alarm him, he ventured cautiously to creep toward the edge of the pile of branches and look about.
His keen eyes scanned the jungle in every direction, but could discern no trace of his enemies. He had known from the sound of their retreating footsteps that they were not between him and his goal. They had gone in the direction that he had already traversed. That special group, at least, would now be in the rear of him instead of in front.
This conclusion was confirmed when Doto dropped down from a tree, where his sharp eyes had noted all that had happened, and rubbed up against Bomba, chattering his delight.
“They have gone then, Doto?” asked Bomba, as he slung his bow over his shoulder. “They are far away?”
The monkey chattered an affirmative and pointed back of them.
“It is well,” said Bomba. “I must go fast now to reach Casson. You saved Bomba’s life, Doto. If you had not pulled him down the arrow would have found him. Doto is good, and Bomba will not forget.”
A gratified look came into the monkey’s eyes. He wanted to go along with Bomba, but the latter did not think it best.