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just at the mouth of my cave. The twigs ignited easily, but my lighter was about to run out of fluid. It would light once or twice more, and that was it. I owed my life to that cheap, disposable lighter. The twigs kindled the branches, which spread the blaze to the logs until I had a roaring fire going.

I dragged the pack and the mosquito nets out of the cave and spread them out around the fire. The bags of rice and beans were damp and mouldy. I washed my socks out in the river and hung them up to dry. My feet were a pleasant surprise; they weren't as bad off as I had expected. They were covered with a light rash, but the skin wasn't peeling. There was no blood or pus.

I gingerly walked barefoot over the rocks with the fishing line and climbed up on a log that lay at the junction of the two rivers and set the line down there. First I had to catch a minnow, but even to catch a minnow I needed bait. The horseflies that were constantly droning would serve that purpose well enough. I lay in wait for them, letting them land on my bare legs and stroll about a bit looking for a choice, juicy spot, and just as they were getting ready to dig in, I took them by surprise. I squished one fly between two fingers, impaled it on a small hook with no float or sinker, and cast the line into the river. It floated on the surface a first, but after the fly got wet, it went under. I lost a few flies before I succeeded in catching a minnow.

The sun shone gently over me. Every now and