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was to be heard. It must have been my imagination playing tricks on me.

My idiotic pride had long since worn thin. Now I prayed for someone to rescue me. Let people say that I was a wimp, that I should have been able to make it out of the jungle on my own. I just wanted to be saved.

It was now the fourteenth of December. Someone had to do something – Lisette, the embassy. Marcus must be back by now. Or Kevin perhaps. I was certain that I would soon hear the drone of a plane overhead. They couldn't help but see me. I had left unmistakable signs on two beaches. They would easily spot the markings. But maybe, just maybe, I would still make it on my own. I must be so very close to San José.

Toward evening I thought that I had found a good place to cross. The river was wide, but the current seemed mild. Furthermore, there were four substantial islands strung out between one bank and the other. I could go from island to island until I reached the other side. Still, I thought, it might not be as easy as it looked, and I decided to take some precautions.

I was loath to get my clothing wet again, especially my socks. I stripped, shoved my clothing into the rubber bag, and closed it inside the pack. I took out the fishing line and tied it to the shoulder straps. I set the pack in the river; it floated satisfactorily. I pulled it back in and set in on the edge of the shore. Then I jumped barefoot into