Bomba leaned against the rock, exhausted but jubilant. Doto crouched close beside him, trembling.
Bomba reached out a hand and caressed the head of the faithful monkey.
“Bomba has good friend in Doto,” said the lad earnestly. “Doto could have saved himself in the trees and left Bomba to the hungry jaws of the puma. Again Doto has saved the life of Bomba, and Bomba will not forget.”
The monkey snuggled closer against him and made a little contented sound like a child that is happy and humming softly to itself.
“But what Bomba does not understand,” went on the jungle boy, speaking more to himself than the monkey, “is how Doto was so sure of finding the cave. Has Doto been here before?”
Doto made a sound that Bomba interpreted as assent.
Bomba made a quick exploration of the cave to make sure that there was no entrance from the back. Then he lay down for a much-needed rest.
His body was sore and aching, and he was exhausted physically and mentally by the fearful strain he had undergone.
Doto lay down close to him, content to be within reaching distance of a pat from the boy’s hand.
The mind of Bomba was full of many things. He was both glad and sorrowful. Glad, because twice that night he had been snatched from the very jaws of death. Sorrowful, because by reason of these perils he had been delayed so long on his journey to Japazy.