They saw the burning hut, and sensed Bomba’s extremity. They saw the lurking savages, and realized that they were Bomba’s foes.
Then there came pouring down from the trees a hail of the heavy castanha nuts that felled whatever they struck.
The surviving savages fled, with wild screams, in a headlong rout. And their demoralization was complete when Polulu, with a tremendous roar, came bounding in upon them, his eyes glaring, his tail lashing, his paws striking out like flails.
Bomba heard the shrieks of the affrighted savages, the jabbering of the monkeys, and the roars of Polulu. His jungle friends had not failed him. He and Casson were saved!
With smarting eyes he rushed to the door, threw off the heavy bar and swung the door wide.
Then he ran back to Casson, who was in a half comatose condition, pulled him to his feet and, half dragging, half lifting him, staggered through the doorway and laid his burden under the trees.
What blessed coolness was in the night air as Bomba drank it in deep draughts! And what added delight came to him as he felt on his uplifted face the plashing of raindrops!
Casson was now in a state of complete collapse, and Bomba was frightened at the ashen pallor of the old man’s face. He rushed to the river behind the cabin and brought water, with which he bathed Casson’s face. Then he chafed his wrists and slapped his hands, until the naturalist opened his eyes with a feeble moan.
The monkeys were all excitement, and chattered their sympathy with Casson and their delight at Bomba’s escape. They would have come down and surrounded the pair, had it not been for the presence of Polulu, who had returned from his pursuit of the savages and who now came up to Bomba and rubbed his great head against him.
Then the puma stretched himself on the ground at a little distance, and Bomba knew as well as if he had been told that his faithful guardian was settled there for the night. Woe to any skulking savage who might steal back there while Polulu was on guard!