But at last the alligator lifted its head and glared at the boy. At the same instant Bomba shot.
The arrow went straight to its mark, pierced the creature’s eye and penetrated to the brain.
There was an awful bellow and a tremendous thrashing about for a few moments. Then the alligator slowly sank below the surface of the river.
Bomba waited for some time, but the body did not reappear. The arrow had done its work well.
Once fully convinced of this, the boy made his way to the trunk of the tree and slid down it to the ground.
It was good to feel the earth again beneath his feet. His heart swelled with gratitude. True, he had been cheated. The alligators had robbed him of his tapir. But they had not robbed him of his life, and compared with that fact everything else seemed insignificant.
The sun was near its setting now, and his hunting would have to be deferred to the next day. Soon the four-footed hunters of the jungle would themselves be abroad, and it behooved Bomba to make himself safe for the night.
Ordinarily he would have collected brush and made a fire, trusting to the flames to keep wild beasts at bay. But now, owing to the possible presence of the dreaded headhunters in the jungle, he dared do nothing that would betray his presence to the marauders. He had not detected any signs of them so far, but a sort of sixth sense told him that they had not yet returned to their homes above the Giant Cataract.
He gathered some jaboty eggs which he ate raw, and which, with some cured meat he had brought with him from the cabin of Pipina, made a simple but satisfying meal.
Then he cast about for some place in which he could pass the night.