He shook Dorn awake, gave some orders to the natives, and soon the camp was alive with preparations for breakfast. This time Bomba took his knife and fork at the outset, and was gratified to note that he could already handle them much better than he had on the night before. “Well, now, my boy,” said Gillis, after they had enjoyed a hearty meal, “we’ll have to be packing and getting on our way. As we told you last night, we’d like nothing better than to have you go along with us. Still think you can’t, eh?” “I should like to go,” replied Bomba, and the look in his eyes was much more eloquent than words. “But Casson is old and sick. He has been good to me. I have to get his food for him. He would die if I should go.” “That settles it then, of course,” said Gillis regretfully. “But don’t you think, my boy, that we’re going to forget you. We owe you too much for that. Either we’ll come back, or we’ll send someone else to get you and Casson out of this jungle and bring you where you belong. In the meantime, we want to do something to show you how grateful we are. You saved our lives, and we want to do something for you.” “You do not have to give me anything,” said Bomba, simply. “I was glad to help you.” “All the same, you’ll have to take something,” put in Dorn. “The question is, what shall it be? The boy can get all the food he wants, and I don’t suppose he has any use for money.” “What is money?” asked Bomba. The men laughed. “About the most important thing in the world outside this jungle,” said Gillis. “This is money,” and he took a gold piece from his pouch and spun it on the rude board that served as a table. “It is pretty,” said Bomba. “A good many people think so,” remarked Gillis, dryly. “Some would sell their soul for it.” “What is a soul?” asked Bomba. “You’re getting in deep, Gillis,” laughed Dorn. “I sure am with this animated interrogation mark,” returned his comrade. “The soul is the best part of us, the part that makes men good and wise and brave, that makes them different from the animals.” “Have I got a soul then?” asked Bomba. “You sure have,” replied Gillis. “And one of the best, if you ask me. But we’re getting off the subject. We want to give you something that you would like to have. I wonder what it would be.” His eyes roved about and caught sight of a harmonica that lay in one of the packs they had brought along for trading with the natives. “How would you like this?” he asked of Bomba, as he picked it up and handed it to him. Bomba examined it curiously. He liked its smoothness and its glitter. “What is it?” he asked. “Let me show you,” said Gillis, as he took it from him, put it to his mouth, and played a few bars of a popular air. Bomba was amazed and delighted. “It is like a bird!” he exclaimed. “It sings!” “Try it yourself,” said Gillis, handing it over. “Blow your breath into it and draw your breath back.”