It was in this self-congratulatory mood that the victors welcomed the three newcomers whom Bomba could now see issuing from the jungle path.
There were loud cries of satisfaction as the trio discovered the dead body of the jaguar.
“Japazy will be glad when he sees its head!” exclaimed Olura, as he surveyed the animal.
“Whose arrow killed it?” asked Tama.
“Mine,” declared Sunka proudly.
“Mine,” stated Boshot with equal conviction.
They glared at each other in defiance, and their hands involuntarily gripped more tightly the spears that they carried in addition to their bows and arrows.
“There is no need of bad blood and hot words between Sunka and Boshot,” intervened Abino, who seemed to be much older than the others and something of a diplomat. “All Japazy’s people know how brave they are. What matter which arrow did the killing? Neither might have done so without the other. Japazy will be pleased with Sunka and Boshot. But his eyes will shoot lightning at either one, if he fight with the other.”
“That is true,” put in Tama. “There are too few of our people now since the plague came some moons ago. That plague carried many to the place of the dead. The tribe needs all its fighting men to kill jaguars and not to kill each other.”
The hands of the would-be combatants loosened from their spears and their anger disappeared. Bomba guessed that the most potent argument had been the mention of the lightning that would flash from Japazy’s eyes. It was evident from the reverence with which they pronounced the name of the chief that they held him in awe.