A yell of fright came from the superstitious natives. What magic was this of which the stranger was master, this mysterious lad who spoke of the dreaded scourge of the jungle as though it were a cooing dove, who could place his hand upon it and still remain alive?
They turned to retreat in a flight of panic when Bomba’s voice stayed them.
“Abino will send food to Bomba in the morning?” he inquired.
There was a moment’s pause, and then Abino replied in a trembling voice:
“Abino would not dare have Solani come into the house where a cooanaradi is.”
Bomba seemed to consider this.
“It is well,” he replied. “Solani does not know how to talk to the cooanaradi as Bomba does. But he can bring food beneath the window in a basket and Bomba will draw it up.”
“Solani shall come,” promised Abino.
Their figures melted away in the distance and Bomba chuckled as he turned away. His reputation as a wizard was made. They were as afraid of him as they were of death. Now he could rest in tranquillity of soul until Japazy returned. For the first time in his life a cooanaradi had proved a friend—an involuntary friend, to be sure, but none the less a friend.
Bomba threw himself on the bed and in a few minutes was fast asleep.