He could work faster now, for the strength of his back and shoulders went into the quick, sharp strokes of the machete. One by one the boughs yielded to his vigorous attacks and were thrown aside.
The water was still creeping upward in the pool, but it would be a long time now before it could reach the danger point. The rain was slackening too.
Stealing a precious moment to glance upward at the sky, Bomba saw that the clouds were breaking and the sun beginning faintly to shine through. The wind had sunk to a gentle murmuring, and the last rumblings of the thunder were dying away in the distance.
Now a foot and leg were free. With more heart, Bomba worked at the other, and soon cleared away the last of the branches.
He could see more clearly now what had happened to him. A great tree, torn loose by that last cyclonic burst of wind, had fallen, sweeping him along with its branches and imprisoning him in the pool.
Lucky for him, thought Bomba, that the boughs had caught him instead of the trunk. In the latter case, there would have been no escape. His life would have paid toll to the storm.
He felt of his legs, raising them tentatively and working them till the blood flowed back in their veins again. To his joy, he established the fact that no bones were broken, though ligaments and muscles had been cruelly strained.
Trying to drag himself to his feet, Bomba found that he could not bear his weight upon them, and was forced at last to drag himself on hands and knees out of the pool and onto higher ground.
The jungle was friendly again. Far above, the sun streamed out through broken clouds. Monkeys chattered, parrots screamed, and the timid small creatures once more ventured out from their hiding places.
In Bomba’s heart was a great thankfulness for his escape. Yet at the same time he bemoaned the hurt to his legs, since he could not hasten as quickly as he had hoped to the rescue of Casson, Pipina and little Pirah.