"Hey, what's going on?" Jenny asked as Jed opened the door for the native who clearly had never been asked to ride in an automobile, or at least in the front of a pick-up truck.

"Want me to translate for you?"

"I certainly seem to have missed out on something."

"It goes like this; we are rich, white, strangers. You got in a hassle...."

"Hey, I am sorry about that. It was too much fun provoking that pompous ass. I shouldn't have taken advantage of being a female."

"I knew what you were doing. Don't fret about it. The point is that both of us working out our frustrations may have accidentally been just the right antic, at the right moment. That is, namely, establishing contact with the Choco´. The fellow sitting next to you wearing a jaw-breaking grin enjoyed the hell out of Senor Pompous Ass getting set on his duff for once, instead of pushing others around."

"Is he Choco´?"

"You bet. It's my instinct we made a friend that we can trust."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Change the vegetation from jungle to a doug fir forest, add a dusting of snow instead of heat haze, give this fellow a pair of riding boots, and we'd be neighbors. Mountain people are the same the world over. Hell, the two of us are buddies."

"Just like that?"

"Ask him."

Jenny did. The reply was, "Muy hombre. Amigo mucho duro."

"I know what amigo means. That's friend. What's duro?"

"Strong. He says . . . excuse me. Coma se oma?"

"Artillio."

"That's his name? What a mouthful. Tell him I'll just call him Arty."

"He says that's fine. He will call you Senor Pollo."

"How's that?"