Having achieved a much better sleep than the previous night, I set forth into the mountains. Half a mile from my waterproof hut, I realized I was being trailed. Because they were so far back, I first assumed they were hunting me or spying on me, waiting for the perfect moment to spring their trap. However, it soon dawned on me that they were only so far away because they had missed my departure; within minutes of first sighting them, they had drawn up on either side of me. In my apprehension I stuck with the most straightforward path through the underbrush, the path of least resistance. The natives must have grown quite bored with this direct route because, as I drove my trail through the bush, they darted out to either side of me. One would snap himself up a tree, limbs whirling like water wheels, while the other would shoot into a thicket and reappear minutes later, snared rodent in her hand. They were welcome travel companions.