One thought, however, brought him a little comfort. He knew the boastful nature of the savages. Nascanora would want to exhibit his captives to the women of his tribe who had been left at home. He would be eager to impress them with his power. They, too, must have their share in the horrid festival that would end in the torture and death of most of his victims and the reduction to slavery of the others.
So the lives of the captives were probably safe until the headhunters had reached their dwelling-place above the Giant Cataract. Bomba would be in time to save them, avenge them, or, at the worst, to die with them.
Several hours passed and Bomba had made remarkable progress before he stopped for a few minutes to rest and eat.
As he felt in his pouch to draw out a portion of cured meat, he made a startling discovery.
His revolver and harmonica were missing!
Bomba could scarcely believe this at first, nor accept it as a fact until he had searched every recess of his pouch and quiver. He even retraced his steps for some distance through the jungle, in the hope that his treasures might have slipped out and that he could recover them.
But he could find no trace of the magic music or the precious “fire stick,” and at last he came back to the clearing to ponder and mourn his loss.
That loss to him was very great. He had so few treasures that he cherished them fondly. The harmonica had brought him soothing and comfort in many lonely hours. The revolver had been the white men’s gift, and therefore doubly precious. Moreover, it was a very important part of his equipment. On occasion it might mean all the difference between life and death. His offensive power was sensibly weakened. Now he had only his knife and his bow and arrows.
But his treasures were gone, in all likelihood irrecoverably gone. Where and how had he lost them?
A thought that crossed his mind swiftly changed his mood from mourning to anger.