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half a dozen miles, but the San Pedro Canyon begins before that. We mustn't enter it, no matter what. It is a real cajón [box]. There is no shore at all there, just sheer rock cliffs on both sides of the river. What we'll have to do from now on is stop at regular intervals and walk ahead a few hundred yards to check out the river to make sure there's another stopping place up ahead where we can pull up before we reach the mouth of the canyon. There we'll stop, and two of us will go around it on foot to Curiplaya.'

Karl's plan made sense to all of us.

'OK, then,' he continued, 'let's scout our first stopping point. We'll go through the jungle around the next bend and see if it's possible to pull over somewhere. Who wants to come with me?'

'Not me,' Kevin whispered so only I could hear. 'I hardly ever agree with Karl about anything. I'd better not go.'

'Not me,' I said. 'I don't know the first thing about river rafting.'

'One of you has to go,' Marcus insisted. 'I can't walk on my feet in the shape they're in.'

'I'm not going,' Kevin said stubbornly.

'Me neither,' I repeated.

I don't know if we intended to torment poor Marcus, but that's what we were doing.

Karl butted in. 'What's with you guys? You don't expect me to go by myself, do you? I'm only here because you were so hot to go on this trip.'

I relented. 'I'll go with you, Karl.'