"Whew!" he uttered, mind and body in such a turmoil that he could not realize what had happened till it was all over.
The boar, freed, had made a dash out of the pit. It seemed to Dave that it took some avenue of exit different to the slant down which he himself had tumbled into the pit.
At all events, he found himself in the open air, but borne along at a terrific rate of speed. He could hardly cling to the animal.
He let go his grasp entirely as the boar scaled a rise and toppled over. Dave, however, could not disengage his clothing. Then he was conscious of rolling over and over. The big animal seemed to fade from view in a swift flight. Dave's head struck something and he lost his senses.
When Dave came back to consciousness, there was no mistake as to his situation. A single glance enlightened him.
A dozen natives were working around a charcoal fire. They seemed to be hardening spear-heads, darts, and other weapons used by the Windjammers as weapons of war.
Near by was a square hut. Its door stood open, the only aperture it contained. Its top was flat and sunken, and leaning up against the sides of this parapet-like inclosure Dave noticed numberless weapons.
Dave lay flat on the ground, feet and hands both tied. The wild boar was nowhere in evidence. The natives were going on with their work.
"Weapon-makers," said Dave. "They seem to be finishing up their work, for the fire is going out."
Finally one of the men--there were four of them--finished holding a lot of spear-ends in the fire. He came and looked at Dave, discovered his eyes were open, and spoke some quick words to him.