In a few bounds Bomba was close beside the blazing hut.
As he rushed forward he shouted hoarsely:
“Casson! Casson! Where are you?”
A groan was his only answer. But it was enough, for it told him that his only friend and comrade was entrapped within. Already he might have been burned beyond any possibility of rescue.
Bomba acted quickly. The cloth about his body had been saturated during his progress through the swamp. This he tore from him and swiftly bound it about his nose and mouth. For this much he knew—that to inhale that writhing, forked-tongue demon men called fire meant certain death.
To adjust the cloth took but a few seconds. Gathering his wiry muscles beneath him, he sprang for the flame-filled doorway of the hut.
For a moment it seemed to him that the whole world was an i
