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‘We can’t do it without Karl,’ Marcus protested. ‘It wouldn’t be right. We promised that we were only taking the raft up to the pass. Anyway, Karl knows what he’s doing. He could show us the best –’

Kevin interrupted him impatiently. ‘Karl doesn’t know the first thing about rafts.’

‘Well, four is still better than three. Please, Kevin, let’s wait for Karl.’

‘All right, Marcus, if you want, you can go back. Yossi and I can do it ourselves.’

Marcus was terrified, but he joined us. He and I boarded the raft, while Kevin remained in the water, gently pushing the raft toward the centre of the river. The water was already up to his neck before he hiked himself aboard. From there the current had its way. We started gaining speed. The centre of the river was far less rocky than it had been close to the bank, but Kevin had been wrong. We took more than a few knocks. We crashed into one rock after another, the raft tilting on its side. Both Marcus and I fell into the water and clutched the raft, afraid of being swept away. Somehow we managed to pull ourselves back aboard. Marcus was beside himself, pale, too rattled to speak. The original raft stood up well to the beating it was taking, but the logs we had added, using ropes instead of pegs, were beginning to come loose.

We made it safely across the Eslabon Pass, but we were without poles or oars and couldn’t row for shore. Kevin jumped into the water again,