“What'd you do that for?” Angus yelled. “He was going to eat me,” the overweight Bart whined a little too loudly. He still had his shotgun poised over his head. “No he wasn’t, you fool. He probably heard all the commotion you made and came to investigate,” said Charles. “What in the world was this aborigine doing up at this time of night?” Bart complained, laboring for air. “Probably guarding the camp from lads like us,” Charles chided. “Keep it down! Did you have to hit him so hard? I think he’s dead,” Angus chastised. “I said I didn’t mean to. You shouldn’t have brought me here. You should’ve left me to guard the camp instead of Roger,” Bart continued to whine. “This stuff scares me and I hate walking through it. I can’t believe you made me come.” “We needed someone competent to stand by at camp. We didn’t think you could cause trouble under supervision,” Charles continued. Angus dug into his back pack and pulled out an ornament he took from an Asmat warrior he fo
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