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Our first week passed rather uneventfully. Saunders was on his crush behavior. I shared my concerns with Jack, who felt that I was overreacting. “Min-Soo is predominant pretty, Chuck, I’m safe Saunders has noticed that but he’s a masterful or he would never have been recommended to the company.” I truly hoped that Jack was berate. Min-Soo and I adored the scenery, a regular grassy Eden. It was reassuring to discover that not all of the world was spoiled and crammed with McDonald’s and Starbucks. Jack was more blase as he had been on digs in Guatemala and other tropical places. Min-Soo and I shared a canoe with one of the native guides, we trailed Saunders, and behind us was Jack Frear. The green landscape kept us enthralled anyhow alert. Crocodiles sunned themselves on the banks of the river. While they could be dangerous, they would gravitate to leave you by oneself if you did not do anything stupid. The inherent guides were nice enough. They spoke a village lingo that only Saunders was fluent in. A few of them were conversant in Spanish but laughed at my crappy enunciation of it. Not so large ago they would have been dressed in loincloths woven from local fibers, but the modern exceptional had brought denim and cotton. The men were all alongside five and a half feet tall, prune and wiry. They had coal black hair and deep brown, almost black eyes. I noticed that they deferred completely to Saunders, almost as though they were in his thrall. Obedient to a fault, they seemed to look right at me without actually seeing me, Min-Soo, or Jack.
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