But the lunge was an instant too late.
For Bomba had shaken off the paralysis that the sight of the monster had brought upon him, and with one bound had cleared the doorway, leaping high over the fire that blazed in front of the hut.
With speed incredible in so clumsy a creature, the alligator pursued him. But it could not leap like Bomba, and with the torpor of its long sleep confusing it and the light of the fire blinding it, plunged headlong into the flames.
There was a tremendous bellowing and thrashing about, a scattering of the embers in every direction, and then the half-blinded creature lumbered out and made for the jungle, forgetting in its own pain and bewilderment all about its human enemy.
Bomba had not the slightest desire to hinder its going. He probably could have slain it with one of his arrows, but he forbore, glad enough to be rid so suddenly of an awful problem.
But there was no more sleep for him that night. He had been too thoroughly shaken. He made up the fire again and sat down beside it, keeping a careful watch lest the monster, still lurking in the vicinity, should return to take vengeance on the author of its misadventure.
But nothing happened during the remainder of the night, and at the first streak of dawn Bomba made a hasty breakfast and set out once more on the trail.
The jungle thinned as he went on, and he was able to make such rapid progress that it was only a little after noon when he reached the banks of the great river in which somewhere was Jaguar Island.
It was a black, ominous stream, with a current that ran like a mill-race. At intervals along its length were foaming rapids that made navigation extremely perilous. Islands dotted its expanse here and there, but none of these within Bomba’s sight were of any great size.
Where Bomba stood the river was about half a mile in width, but a little further down it expanded to more than twice that width. Great trees fringed the banks, the foliage reaching far out over the water.