When Villa proposed the bath, her husband advised with Johnny.

Johnny shook his head.
"No fella boy stop 'm along that place," he said.

"No make 'm trouble along you.

Bush fella boy stop 'm long way too much." So it was that the launch went ashore, and, while its crew lolled in the shade of the beach coconuts, Villa, Harley, and Jerry followed the river inland a quarter of a mile to the first likely pool.
"One can never be too sure," Harley said, taking his automatic pistol from its holster and placing it on top his heap of clothes.

"A stray bunch of blacks might just happen to surprise us." Villa stepped into the water to her knees, looked up at the dark jungle roof high overhead through which only occasional shafts of sunlight penetrated, and shuddered.
"An appropriate setting for a dark deed," she smiled, then scooped a handful of chill water against her husband, who plunged in in pursuit.
For a time Jerry sat by their clothes and watched the frolic.