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surprised if he had already made his way to an inhabited area and been rescued. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that Kevin was alive. I just hoped that nothing had happened to him in the river.

The palm fronds made an impenetrable cover. The rain fell on them and ran off to the sides. I even managed to warm myself under their shelter. My feet were comfortable in the bag. My only source of discomfort was stones digging into my back, but I couldn't do anything about them. The walking stick lay at my side. At night it could serve as a weapon along with the tin can, the spoon, and the pitiful flashlight. I said a short prayer to God and asked forgiveness for eating the unborn birds. Then I gave myself over to fantasies until the break of dawn.

The pack was on my back, the staff was in my hand, and I was on my way. My feet were damp and raw, but there was no rash. The rain had cleared up and then started falling again. I didn't let it bother me and set straight out on my course. While I walked, I sang the same songs as the day before, and when I had gone through my entire repertoire, I had long conversations with the members of my family and daydreamed again.

Suddenly something jumped out, right from under my feet. My heart jumped with it, but I regained my composure as soon as I saw that it was only a wild chicken. Its wings were weak; it barely raised