“Abino and the elders heard a great noise, and they feared that harm had come to the stranger,” the native returned. “They have come to help him, if he is in trouble.”
To help him! The men who had sent the serpent to strike him down!
Bomba’s blood boiled. But he restrained himself with an effort, and his tone was silken as he replied:
“It is good of Abino and the elders to want to help Bomba. But he is not in trouble. But why do Abino and the elders stand beneath the window? Will they not come in and talk with Bomba?”
In the moonlight he could see the movement of horrified recoil at the suggestion, and again he smiled grimly to himself.
“The stranger needs sleep,” replied Abino, after a momentary pause. “It is not well for us to talk with him when his eyes are heavy.”
“Bomba is not tired, and he would be glad to speak words with Abino and the elders,” returned the lad. “He is lonely. There is none here for him to talk to except the cooanaradi.”
There was a gasp of amazement.
“The cooanaradi!” came in a chorus from startled throats.
“Yes,” replied Bomba, with an ostentatious yawn. “The cooanaradi came in to talk with Bomba. Bomba talked to him. Bomba knows how to talk with the cooanaradi. He will not hurt Bomba. Bomba has his hand on him now,” and he reached down and touched the grisly coils. “He will not hurt any one who does not mean harm to Bomba.”