📸 Photo

I had almost full use of my hand by then. Kevin never stopped snapping pictures. The scenery was really splendid; the wilderness was without a trace of civilisation — no rusty tin cans or cigarette butts. No one had been here before us. Everything was clean, natural.

A goose flew overhead. Karl shot at it but missed. We were all disappointed. For the first time since we had started out, Marcus held back to walk with Kevin and me. He confided that he was worried and didn’t want to rely on Karl. He was afraid to go on.

‘We don’t have enough food,’ he protested.
Kevin tried to reassure him. ‘This evening we’ll check just how much rice we have left.’ he suggested reassuringly, and yet I noticed he seemed less than friendly to Marcus.

That evening we sat around the campfire. The clouds that had gathered overhead all day broke up, and the moonlight shimmered on the Cocus River. The current glittered a silvery reflection. Nor was the jungle dark. Hundreds of fireflies danced about. It was a magnificent evening, but Marcus was anxiety-ridden.

‘Look, we’ve been going for five days, and who knows how far we’ve really gone, how close to our plan,’ he said. ‘In the meanwhile we’re running out of food. Maybe we’d better go back. We can’t know for sure that we’ll even find the Indian village. We don’t even have a decent map.’
‘There’s nothing to get uptight about,’ Karl said.