III. A STEALTHY FOE

AN exclamation of surprise came from the white men as Bomba advanced toward them with his upraised palms, extended as a sign of amity, and they lowered their rifles.

“Just an Indian kid!” remarked the stockier of the two with a laugh.

Indian nothing! retorted the other, as his eyes swept over the lad. “Look at his hair, his eyes, his features. He’s as white as we are, or my I name isn’t Gillis. Look again, Dorn.”

“Guess you’re right, old man,” conceded Jake Dorn, after a close scrutiny. “But what in the mischief is he doing here? I didn’t know there were any other whites within a thousand miles of us.”

“Neither did I,” replied Ralph Gillis. “But we were evidently wrong. Probably he belongs to some other camp of rubber hunters not far away.”

“But look at his clothes, if you can call them clothes,” said Dorn, with a puzzled air. “I never saw a white boy dressed like that. Nothing but a clout and a puma skin.”

“We’ll soon solve the mystery,” said Gillis. “Come here, boy,” he added kindly.

Bomba came shyly toward him.

“What is your name?” asked Gillis.

“Bomba,” was the reply.

“Bomba!” repeated Gillis, with a frown of perplexity.

“That’s a queer name for a white boy. For you are white, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Bomba proudly, as he drew aside the puma skin and exhibited his chest.

“And since you understand what I say to you, you must be either American or English,” pursued Gillis. “What is your other name?”

“I haven’t any,” was the reply. “I am Bomba.”

The men exchanged puzzled glances. “Who are your folks?” put in Dorn.

Bomba pondered for a moment.

“I don’t know what that word means,” he replied simply.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed Gillis. “I mean your father, your mother.”

“I guess I never had any,” replied Bomba. “I never saw them or heard of them.”

“The poor kid” murmured Dorn.

“But you must have somebody to live with or take care of you,” said Gillis.

“Yes,” replied Bomba, “I live with Cody Casson.”

“Who is he and where is he?” asked Gillis.

“He is an old man,” answered Bomba. “He lives in a hut a long way off,” and he pointed toward the south.

“Is he a relation of yours?” asked Dorn. “I don’t know what that means,” was the answer. Gillis threw up his hands in despair. “Well, wouldn’t that get your goat?” he ejaculated.

“I haven’t got any goat,” replied Bomba, who thought the question was addressed to him. The men laughed heartily, and Bomba, though a little puzzled, laughed with them. He was glad that he had said something that pleased them.

They were nice men.