The peccary nearest him lifted up its wicked, blunt-nosed head and sniffed the air. Then, with a snort of rage, it turned in the direction of the sound and started straight toward Bomba. The rest of the drove automatically followed their leader.
There was only one thing to be done. Quick as thought, Bomba leaped for the limb of the tree nearest him, swinging his body clear of the ground just as the first peccary reached the spot where he had been. The others followed with such headlong speed that many of them struck against the trunk of the tree and shook it with their impact.
Not a second too soon, thought Bomba, as he swung himself from branch to branch until he reached a fork, where he ensconced himself.
Below him at the base of the tree the peccaries were acting like things demented. They ran around and around in circles, snorting viciously and stumbling over one another in their fury.
Bomba was thankful that pigs were not like monkeys or jaguars, who were as much at home among the branches of a tree as they were on the ground.
The peccaries could not climb, and so were powerless to vent their rage on Bomba. He was safe for the present and could smile grimly as they gnashed their tusks, those terrible tusks that were like so many knives and which could so easily slash him to bits.
The boy was filled with resentment against these ferocious creatures. They could not harm him, but they were delaying him in his pursuit of Nascanora. For all he knew, they might keep him treed for days. And in the meantime what might be happening to the captives? His heart was wrung with anguish at the thought.
An hour passed—another. Then the fury of the peccaries began to abate. They were short-sighted, and used to holding their heads down as no longer gazing at their enemy, they soon forgot they grazed. It tired them to look up. And, his existence. With the stupid peccary, out of sight was out of mind.
They began to drift away at last, moving aimlessly as though they had forgotten all about Bomba and the reason for their ferocious attack.
But Bomba’s forced rest had brought renewed strength to his limbs, and he felt more like his own strong, active self.