horse and was holding the reins. Mounting, I asked if he would like to ride, too, but Malaki shook his head, as I had suspected he would, and trotted alongside us, torch in hand, as we took to the jungle trail. The villagers, who built this path for me in gratitude for past services, call it the Road of the Loving Heart. Even in the daylight, it is not easily navigable, twisting and turning, as it must, down the steep and overgrown hillside. More than once, Malaki had to wait impatiently as I—in my loose canvas trousers and shirt, the rifle slung across my back by a leather strap—had
