The drizzle and trees partially obscured the sun, but it was still disgustingly hot. Shirts soaked through with rain-mixed sweat; hair clinging damply to foreheads.Those of party wearing their hats kept their faces dry. Other would have to continuallu wipe at their faces with a handkerchief or rag.
Bones traveled carrying his Thompson pointing muzzle straight up. Over the bore hole of the barrel, a condom has been unraveled and draped over, like miniature rain slicker. He gave Richard a wink, which of course was met with a stern glare. He and Pingo were too far ahead, but whatever Richard muttered had Pingo laughing and slapping a thigh.
"What?" Bones asked Pingo. Pingo smiled and gave him the gesture of Monster Hands.
Bones shook his head. He cupped his hands "Just because you British are used to running around in jungles with your own personal native-servants doesn't mean you can take mine!!" Richard, who MUST have heard didn't dignify it with any sort of response.
The path was packed dirt, with thick jungle growth on either side. Big-leafed plants, vines, creepers, trees straight out of a Tarzan comic book. It was dark beneath the trees, and difficult to see very far into their midst, but every now and then you could hear things crashing about in the foliage. Birds, maybe, startled by your approach. There was a lot of cawing, and a steady locust-like throbbing underneath it all that could suddenly, for no apparent reason, fall silent.
As night approached, Richard and Pingo selected an area sheltered on one side by a steep boulder. Max and Kestrel got the fire started. Spirits were low thanks to the constant drizzle, but under some heave leafed trees and the boulder, you managed to find a decent spot to camp.
By the time it was set up to everyone's liking, it was dark. The campfire, larger now that the group was so far from the road, and so far away from any random Nazi patrols.
The kid was beat, and went to go rest in his tent before Pingo returned from his second night of hunting, the group now more wary than before.
Paco and Esteban have a second campfire over near the animals. Esteban is playing a harmonica softly, a low mournful tune.
Bones falls in next to the fire, and takes his boots off. He removes his wet socks, and dries his boots near the flames. His socks he hangs from sticks driven into the mud. After awhile he powders up his feet, and leans back to relax to enjoy the fact that they were no longer traveling for the day.
"From Orino Perro Sergeant," Bones says, answering an earlier question posed by Kestrel. "it will take us a day and a half traveling by river to get to this Mission of Dunning's.
"How many days of travel do the letters cover? What are the dates?" Bones inquires.
