“He is dead,” replied Neram. “He will hurt Ashati no more. Bomba has killed him.”
“Bomba?” exclaimed Ashati excitedly.
He turned his head from Neram, and as his gaze fell upon Bomba such a look of rapturous delight and doglike devotion came into his eyes that the lad’s heart was touched.
“Yes, Bomba is here,” said the jungle boy, as he put his hand affectionately on Ashati’s head. “Bomba heard Ashati scream and he came to his help. But now Ashati must let Bomba see his arm where the big snake held him.”
The lad examined with care the man’s arm, which was black to the shoulder and swollen to nearly double its usual size. But to his relief he established that the bone was not broken. If the snake had been able to get a tail hold the bone would have been snapped like a pipe stem.
Bomba and Neram bathed the arm and applied a plaster of river mud. Then they propped the man as comfortably as they could against the back of a tree, first making a careful examination of the branches to see that no other monster lurked above.
“Bomba is great,” murmured the grateful sufferer, as he looked with a shudder at the hideous body of the dead snake. “Bomba is good. There is no one so brave as Bomba in the jungle. And none can shoot as straight and kill as quickly.”
“Bomba is glad that he came in time,” returned the lad gravely. “But his arrow would have done no good if the snake had got its tail around a tree. It was a foolish snake to let go of the bough. But how is it that Ashati did not see that the snake was in the tree?”
“Ashati had looked,” returned the man; “but some demon must have blinded his eyes, for he saw nothing. He was bending over to get some wood for a fire when the big snake dropped and wound itself about his arm.”
“Neram tried to help Ashati,” broke in Neram. “But he could not get close with his knife. And Neram did not dare shoot his arrow for fear he would kill Ashati. Neram cannot shoot as straight as Bomba.”