It was getting late, and Bomba began to wonder whether he would be able to visit the village of the Araos and return on the same day.
He could spend the night in the jungle, of course. He had done it many times before and had not been afraid. Now, especially with Polulu to guard him, he would be safe enough.
But Casson! There was always Casson. At any time now he might be made the victim of an attack by the fierce head-hunters of Nascanora. And when that time came, if it should come, Bomba wanted to be at the old man’s side to live or die with him as fate might determine.
He pushed on as fast as he could, the faithful Polulu still beside him, the jaboty slung over his shoulder. He was getting close to the maloca now, and if there was any chance of accomplishing his errand and getting back before midnight, he meant to take advantage of it.
Still faster he went, Polulu padding beside him and keeping away by his presence not only jungle enemies but Bomba’s friends, the monkeys and the parrots, who gave him a wide berth when they saw the grim guardian that kept pace with him.
When they drew near to the place where Bomba expected to find the tribe he was searching for, the boy said good-bye to Polulu, telling him that if the Indians saw him coming accompanied by a puma they would consider his visit an unfriendly one.
Whether Polulu clearly understood this or not, he knew that he had received his dismissal, and with a last friendly rub of his tawny head he disappeared into the jungle. But Bomba had a feeling that he was hovering somewhere near, ready at the slightest need to come again to his help.
Bomba began to be troubled now because he had no more to take as a present to the Araos than the jaboty. He had had so much to do in preserving his life through the course of the momentous day that he had had but little time to look for game.
Once he thought that fortune was going to favor him. It was when he caught sight of a tapir close to the edge of a small stream. But the tapir had seen him first and disappeared like a shadow in the depths of the jungle before Bomba could bring his weapon into play.
He was greatly disappointed at this. Some tapir meat would have been a succulent present to bring to the Araos. Laden with such a gift, he could hardly have failed to be received with gratitude and friendship.