It required considerable diplomacy for Bomba to terminate his visit quickly without offense. They were for having him stay with them for that night, several nights if he would. But Bomba managed to impress them with the necessity of his getting back to Casson at once, and they reluctantly yielded.
The chief had noticed that Bomba’s arrows were all gone, and as a parting proof of friendship insisted on supplying him with a dozen choice ones from his own stock.
Thanking him warmly and promising to return again within a short time bringing gifts, Bomba took leave of Hondura and little Pirah, who clung to him up to the last moment.
Several of the younger warriors, as a mark of courtesy, accompanied him some distance into the jungle, and when they finally left him repeated the words of Peto, “Kari Katu Kama-rah!”
Bomba responded earnestly and with a grateful heart, and when they disappeared like ghosts in the shadows he was conscious of a still deeper sense of the loneliness that of late had become his constant companion.
The jungle seemed to him unnaturally still. The screaming of the parrots was less strident than usual and the chattering of the monkeys sounded muffled and far away.
His eyes fell on the track of a tapir, and this roused him from his musings. He followed it for a short distance, and came upon his quarry so suddenly that he almost betrayed his presence. But the wind was blowing toward him, and he had made no sound.
The tapir was standing with his side toward him, offering as good a target as any hunter could wish.
Bomba fitted one of Hondura’s arrows to his bow and let fly.
The missile sped swift and true. It struck the tapir at the base of the skull, and the animal toppled over and died with scarcely a struggle.