But he was still alive, and at that moment nothing else mattered. Dear Casson! Good old Casson! There were tears in Bomba’s eyes as he rushed forward and folded the old man in his embrace.
The two were roused by a shriek from Pipina, who had gone to the doorway and now came rushing back in terror.
“There is another puma there!” she cried. “He is bigger that the others! Quick! Let us get behind the door again.”
Bomba spoke to her soothingly and with a smile.
“He is not like the others,” he said. “He is Bomba’s friend. I killed one puma but he killed the other. I will bring him here, and you will see.”
But Pipina, despite Bomba’s assurances, had no desire for an introduction to the giant puma, and shook her head decidedly, the while she muttered prayers to her gods.
So Bomba had to be content with bringing out a haunch of meat and sitting beside Polulu and talking to him, while the latter munched away contentedly. Then the great beast rose, stretched himself, rubbed his head against Bomba’s hand, and departed again for his haunts in the jungle.
They had a great feast that night, for Pipina displayed all her skill in making a fitting celebration of the wanderer’s return.
Bomba was almost famished, and ate greedily while Pipina beamed with smiles at his tribute to her cooking. The lad was glad to see also that Casson had a better appetite than he had had when Bomba had left him. It was evident that Pipina had taken good care of him.
But though the old naturalist had improved physically, there was no change for the better in his mental condition. Bomba studied him during the meal and grieved to see that his mind was still weak and wandering. Would that closed door in his mind never open?