At sight of him, a shrill yell pealed from the lips of the old woman, which brought dark figures running to her from all directions. Bomba saw one rise up in front of him as though conjured from the earth by magic. He turned to avoid the outstretched arms of this apparition, did not see the hole that yawned at his feet, and fell into a nest of writhing snakes.
He was so paralyzed with horror that he could not move. Perhaps it was to that that he owed his life. For as the snakes, most of which had been dozing in the slimy ooze at the bottom of the pit, recovered from their surprise and coiled to attack, Sobrinini pushed through the crowd at the edge of the hole and began to sing.
It was a lilting, rhythmic tune, and at the first notes of it the hideous reptiles surrounding Bomba began to sway to the sound and one after another slipped over the edge of the pit and slithered away into the darkness.
Bomba climbed out, with the gray mud plastered over him. Still shaken at the narrowness of his escape from a terrible death, the lad drew himself up beside Sobrinini.
The ring of natives, male and female, closed in upon Bomba and the old witch woman as the sound died on the lips of Sobrinini. Several of the group carried flaring torches, and by this flickering light the scene seemed as unreal and fantastic as a dream.
As Sobrinini saw Bomba before her, she turned upon him with a look so fierce and malignant that the lad involuntarily drew away from her.
“You scared my snakes!” she cried accusingly. “For that you should be burned by fire and flung into the river for the alligators to feast on your flesh. It was for their sakes, not yours, that I saved your life, wicked one. My snakes must not be frightened, my little pets—ha, ha, ha!” and she went off into such a fit of horrible merriment that Bomba’s heart froze within him.
If at that moment he could have reached his canoe by any means and left that fearful place behind him forever, he might have yielded to the temptation.
But it was too late now. The ring of natives surrounded him, and even if he succeeded by a bold dash in forcing his way through them, there was little chance of escape. They would reach him and drag him back before he could get the canoe clear of the bushes and head for the open stream.
The impulse to flee lasted but a moment. The next, Bomba pulled himself together and was his cool, courageous self once more.