Chapter Ten
Having fallen into the hands of a gang of white slavers, the three American girls were convinced that their situation could hardly get worse. They had a great deal of time to consider their fate as they rode, jostled and bounced erratically, in the back of the creaky old Army truck, as it crawled its way along the jungle path and into the forbidding coastal mountains. Although the arching canvas cowl of the truck bed sheltered the prisoners from the worst of the sun, the sweltering heat and hard wooden benches made for a miserable ride. And so it was with a great deal of relief that they were finally allowed to climb down as the sun was settling, and the small party found a clearing to make camp for the night.
For their journey, the captives had been lightly clad in T-shirts
