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up handfuls and gulping them down. The sweetness was enthralling; the juices filled my howling belly. I didn't budge from the bush for at least twenty minutes, when my hands were red-stained with berry juice and I felt my hunger satisfied.

I lay down on my belly, thirstily lapping up water from the river and washing off my sweaty face. The river was quite wide at that point, wide as the Ipurama. It had to be the other river marked on the map, the Turliamos – there was no doubt about it – and Curiplaya was supposed to be only half a mile farther, on the bank of the Tuichi. Fantastic. I would be there by tomorrow. Tomorrow I would go on walking. Tomorrow, but now I was too exhausted and decided to set up my campsite there on the beach. At least I could count on a good breakfast.

I looked for some kind of shelter from the rain. I walked a little way downriver and spotted deer tracks on the sandy shore. The deer must have come down to drink. Probably jaguars would come as well. Still, I would be better off on the shore than in the dark, frightening jungle. A long, thick tree lay on the beach. It was enormous. The gnarls of the trunk left a space between it and the ground. The ground underneath was dry; the rain hadn't reached it. This is where I would spend the night.

I crawled under the tree trunk. I couldn't sit up; could only crouch on my elbows. I got the mosquito nets and poncho out and started getting