“He cannot find his way anywhere,” declared Bomba sadly. “He will be like a child in the jungle. He will be at the mercy of the big cats, of the anacondas, of the other creeping things that watch and spring upon their prey. Casson might as well have stayed in the hut of fire, for his death in the jungle is as sure.”
Pipina wrung her hands and continued the rocking motion of her body.
“He is mad,” she chanted in a singsong voice. “There is a strange power about him that will keep off evil. The gods will watch over him. The serpent will not strike him, the jaguar will not spring upon him. For they know that he is mad and fear him.”
Though Bomba shook his head, the words of Pipina brought a little comfort to his heart. He knew that the savage beasts of the jungle, like the savage men of the jungle, had fear of all that was not sane and shunned it. Still, poor Cody Casson’s feebleness of mind seemed but a doubtful protection, and Bomba’s heart misgave him.
“When Pipina found that Casson was gone what did she do then?” he asked, turning to his companion.
“Pipina wait till fire go out and she think Indians go away,” was the reply. “Then she creep back toward the cabin. She hope Bomba come back and help her find Casson. Then the thorns catch Pipina and she stop. She call. Bomba come.”
“Yes, Bomba came—too late,” said the lad sorrowfully. “My heart is heavy for Casson. Except Pipina, Bomba has no other friend.”
“There is the good chief, Hondura,” suggested Pipina. “He will help Bomba.”
“Yes, he will help,” assented Bomba wearily. “Bomba will take Pipina to him where she may rest in the maloca of the good chief. There she will be safe from the headhunters of Nascanora. Then Bomba will find Casson.”
But though Bomba spoke with courage, grief possessed him. In his heart he feared that certain death awaited the ill and feeble Casson in the jungle.