Oh, if he only knew!
But there was nothing he could do until Japazy returned.
Suppose, however, that Japazy did not return? What if any one of the thousand perils of the jungle should cut short his life? Then perhaps Bomba could never get the knowledge for which his soul panted. He would be cheated, too, of his vengeance—supposing it were true that Japazy had indeed slain his father.
Even while immersed in these gloomy reflections, a gleam of hope came to Bomba.
Abino!
Perhaps Abino knew. He was the chosen counselor of Japazy as far as that haughty despot permitted any one to advise him. Perhaps he was also the repository of Japazy’s secrets. Those quick and furtive glances that Abino had cast at the picture on the wall! What did they mean? What did Abino know?
Tired out finally by these ponderings and questionings, Bomba at last threw himself on the floor and slept. And for this he chose a place directly beneath the picture, where those lovely, tender eyes could look down upon him.
It was dark when he woke, and the immediate occasion of his waking was the entrance of Solani, bringing his supper.
The boy lighted a torch and thrust it into a holder against the wall. By its light, Bomba noted that the boy looked disturbed and frightened.
“Solani is sad to-night,” observed Bomba, as he prepared to eat the meal that the lad had set on the table. “What is it that makes the heart of Solani heavy?”