Thus they traveled for a considerable distance through the jungle. The storm had worn itself out. The treetops were still agitated by occasional sharp gusts of wind, but where Bomba and Doto sped along the jungle lay in an almost deathlike hush.
“Where is it that Doto takes Bomba?” asked the lad, easing his bruised muscles as he paused to rest. “We must not go too far from the trail, for Bomba must press on to the island of the big cats where lives Japazy, the half-breed.”
For answer Doto broke into a frantic chattering and pulled the boy along by the arm.
Suddenly the eyes of Bomba narrowed and he pressed a hand over the monkey’s mouth.
“Wait!” he commanded sharply. “Bomba has heard something in the jungle.”
The monkey’s chatter ceased, and behind him in the darkness Bomba heard the faint sound of padding feet.
He listened and heard it again, but not in the same place. Again the faint pad, pad of feet moving stealthily, but this time more to the east.
Once more that ominous sound. This time to the north.
Bomba knew that sound. He knew the smell that came to his keen nostrils.
Pumas! Three of them at least. They were stalking him, moving in a semicircle, closing in upon him!