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shared the experiences we so greatly enjoyed. One base camp was a home away from home. Hardly were the tents erected before a complete set of furniture was improvised from jungle pines the small house was a work of art. It got photographed from
all angles. As you can imagine the boys were in their element and were eager to impress us.

Wild game was more than plentiful. Scrub Turkeys, pigeons, & parrots provided a variety of menus fit for a king. Each morning at dawn I took up a position down by the creek & became the hunter. Thirty healthy appetites demanded it. Treeing scrub-hens became a wanton delight. The technique involved overtaking them & inducing flight. Being similar
to domesticated foul their flying range is short-then a snap shot with the .22.

Throughout the week we toiled & walked, bore heat and thirst, even forgoing midday meals to save time. Anyway to work on a full stomach in the tropics is sheer madness.
Dusk would find us again at our base, tired, dirty, thirsty, & certainly hungry. From then till bedtime every moment was a pleasure. Dinner took on a new flavour, our parched throats absorbed tea like a sponge. Bed-gosh that was Heaven. I wouldn't have traded mine for even home with a rubber mattress. Mine was mere earth. (a hip hole was dug & straw laid long it. Two blankets and a pillow then above that.) It was so ingenious that every time my batmen looked at it, he yawned. But sleep was not fascination no. Over in the east a full moon was