Bomba saw that the animal was bleeding from a dozen wounds, many of them deep, from which the blood was flowing freely. The lad ran to a stream that rippled through the brushwood not far off and brought back water with which he washed the wounds. Then he covered them with river mud, the universal and healing ointment of the jungle. Polulu let him do as he would, purring his gratitude and rubbing his head against the lad’s body.