No, it was different from either of these. It was the sound of one or several bodies pressing through the heavy undergrowth that in places grew higher than a man’s head.
And it was not the body of a jaguar or a puma that was pushing through the thickets. Bomba was familiar enough with the habits of these creatures to know that on a night like this they would remain closely sheltered in their caves. None of them would brave the fury of the elements.
Nor was it the odor of animals that was borne to him. Bomba’s long residence in the jungle had developed his sense of smell so that it was almost as keen as that of the jaguar itself. His nostrils dilated now as he sniffed the air and caught the unmistakable scent of human kind.
He had thought that he had left his enemies behind. Now he knew that they were also in front. It was from that direction that the scent had come.
It was no small party with which he had to deal. Nascanora’s braves were out in force. All Bomba’s subtlety and force would be needed that night, if he were to keep his head on his shoulders. And Bomba valued that head highly.
He went forward now more slowly, more cautiously, pausing to look about him warily when the lightning illumined the jungle.
At one brilliant flash he dropped behind some bushes as though shot.
Not more than a dozen yards away three Indians were creeping toward him, spear points lowered, glinting evilly!
CHAPTER II
AT GRIPS WITH THE ENEMY
Like a flash Bomba leaped to his feet and plunged into the underbrush.