“Jumpin” jets!” Bud exclaimed. “That’s what I call weird!”
Even the Americans gaped in awe, while the natives stood in huddled groups near the edge of the bog, muttering fearfully. “Sho-sho-go binu oba asara na je!” one of them said to Tom.
Darcy Creel translated. “He’s saying that Sho-sho-go has devoured the bridge in his awful anger. Remember, Sho-sho-go is the god of thunder and lightning. He seems to be the special god of this swamp.”
Tom’s eyes lighted with sudden interest. “Thanks for the information, Darcy.” The man’s remark had just given Tom a fresh slant on the night’s disaster. “Tell the men I’ll talk to them later. In the meantime, they have nothing to fear.”
As the boys walked toward the campfire, where Chow was preparing breakfast, Bud asked a bit sheepishly, “Tom, you don’t suppose there’s anything in this jungle voodoo stuff?”
“Definitely not. Why?”
Bud shrugged. “Well, the way your bridge was destroyed-it’s gone completely. I’m not super-DINOSAUR STAMPEDE 153
stitious but, man, I’ve never seen anything like those lightning bolts last night!”
Tom stopped and faced his friend. “Look, fly-boy, I’ll admit the lightning was unusual. I’d like to know more about those terrific discharges myself. As for what happened to the bridge, that was strictly a natural phenomenon. The lightning knocked out the repelatron transmitters, leaving the bridge with no support. So it collapsed, fractured, and sank into the bog.”
“What about that old man’s prophecy?” Bud argued.
“Creel just gave us the answer to that.”