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They struggled to get the nose of the boat up on the log and then； heaving together； pushed the boat across。 Then they scrambled over it themselves and climbed back in。 The sound of the Evinrude grew louder。 The soldiers' boat was ing up the river fast。
Sally picked up the second pole； and they both poled forward； deeper into the flooded forest。 Tom switched off the flashlight； and a moment later a powerful light came blinking through the trees。
〃We're still too close；〃 said Tom。 〃They'll see us。〃 He tried to pole； but the pole sank into the muck and stuck。 He jerked it out and laid it in the bottom of the boat； grabbing some hanging vines instead and using them to pull the boat deeper into the forest； halfway into a thicket of ferns and bushes。 The Evinrude was almost on them。 The spotlight flashed through the forest just as Tom grabbed Sally and pulled her down to the bottom of the dugout； and they lay side by side； his arm around her。 Tom prayed that the soldiers wouldn't see their engine。
The sound of the motorboat grew very loud。 The boat had slowed down； and the spotlight was probing the forest where they were hidden。 Tom could hear the crackle of a walkie…talkie； the murmur of voices。 The spotlight lit up the jungle around them like a movie set…and then slowly moved on。 Blessed darkness returned。 The sound of the engine passed and grew fainter。
Tom sat up in time to see the flash of the spotlight in the forest up ahead as the boat went around a bend。 〃They're gone；〃 he said。
Sally sat up； brushing her tangled hair out of her face。 The mosquitoes had gathered around them in a thick； whining cloud。 Tom could feel them everywhere； in his hair； crawling into his ears； trying to get up his nose； crawling down his neck。 Each blow killed a dozen； instantly replaced。 When he tried to breathe； he breathed mosquitoes。
〃We've got to get out of here；〃 Sally said； slapping。
Tom began pulling dry twigs off the bushes around them。
〃What are you doing？〃
〃Building a fire。〃
〃Where？〃
〃You'll see。〃 When he'd collected a pile of twigs； he leaned over the side and scooped up some mud from the swamp。 He patted it into a pancake on the bottom of the dugout； covered it with leaves； and then built a small teepee of sticks and dry leaves on top。
〃Match。〃
Sally handed him a match； and he lit the fire。 As soon as it was going well； he added some green leaves and twigs。 A curl of smoke drifted up and gathered in the still air。 Tom plucked a large leaf from a nearby bush and used it as a fan to wave the smoke over Sally。 The furious cloud of mosquitoes was driven back。 The smoke had a pleasant smell； sweet and spicy。
〃There's a nice trick；〃 said Sally。
〃My father showed it to me on a canoe trip in northern Maine。〃 He reached up； yanked some more leaves off the bush； and added them to the fire。
Sally took out the map and began examining it by flashlight。 〃It looks like there are a lot of side channels to the river。 I think we should stick to those until we reach Pito Solo。〃
〃Good idea。 And I think we'll have to pole from now on。 We can't risk using the engine。〃
Sally nodded。
〃You tend the fire；〃 said Tom。 〃I'll pole； and then we'll switch off。 We won't stop until we reach Pito Solo。〃
〃Right。〃
Tom pushed the boat back into the river and poled close to the flooded forest； listening for the motorboat。 Soon they came to a small side channel winding away from the main one； and took it。
Tom said； 〃Somehow I don't think Lieutenant Vespán had any intention of bringing us back to San Pedro Sula。 I think he planned to have us fall out of his helicopter。 If it weren't for that missing part； we'd be dead。〃
19
Fenton looked up into the vast canopy that arched above his head and noted that night was falling in the Meambar Swamp。 With it came the whine of insects and a steamy miasma of rot that rose up from the shivery acres of muck that surrounded them； drifting like poison gas among the giant tree trunks。 Somewhere in the depths of the swamp he could hear the distant shriek of an animal； followed by the roar of a jaguar。
It was the second night in a row that they could find no dry land to camp。 Instead； they had tethered the dugout under a group of giant bromeliads in the hope that their leaves would help keep out a steady rain。 They did no such thing； instead channeling the rain into streams that could not be avoided。
The Teacher lay in the bottom of the dugout； in the rain； huddled against the heap of supplies； wrapped in a wet blanket and shivering despite the suffocating heat。 The cloud of mosquitoes that enveloped them in a mewling fog was especially thick about his face。 Vernon could actually see them crawling about his mouth and eyes。 Vernon reached out and spread some more deet on his face； but it was a hopeless task。 If the rain didn't wash it off； the sweat did。
He glanced up。 The two guides were in the front of the boat； playing cards by flashlight and drinking。 They had hardly been sober since the beginning of the trip； and Vernon was horrified to discover that one of the ten…gallon plastic jugs that he thought contained water was actually full of homemade aguardiente。
Vernon hunched over； swaying and hugging himself。 It wasn't quite dark； night seemed to be ing very slowly。 There was no sunset in the swamp： The light went from green to blue to purple and then black。 At dawn it was reversed。 Even on sunny days there was no sun； just a deep green gloom。 He felt desperate for a bit of light； a breath of fresh air。
After four days of wandering in the swamp； their guides had finally admitted that they were lost； that they had to turn around。 And they had turned the boats around。 But they only seemed to go deeper into the swamp。 This certainly wasn't the way they had e。 The guides were impossible to talk to； although Vernon spoke Spanish fairly well and the guides knew some English； they were often too drunk to speak any language。 For the past few days； the more lost they seemed to bee； the more loudly the guides denied it and the more they drank。 And then the Teacher had gotten sick。
Vernon heard a curse from up front。 One of the guides threw down his cards and staggered to his feet； rifle in hand。 The boat rocked。
〃Cabrón！〃 The other one had swayed to his feet； gripping a machete。
〃Stop；〃 Vernon yelled； but as usual they ignored him。 They cursed and came together in a drunken scuffle； the rifle went off harmlessly； there was more grunting and scuffling； and then the two guides； none the worse for their altercation； settled back down in the boat； gathered up their spilled cards； and redealt as if nothing had happened。
〃What was that shot？〃 the Teacher asked belatedly； opening his eyes。
〃Nothing；〃 said Vernon。 〃They're drinking again。〃
The Teacher shivered； drawing the blanket tighter。 〃You should take away that gun。〃
Vernon said nothing。 It would be stupid to try to take away their gun； even when they were drunk。 Especially when they were drunk。
〃The mosquitoes；〃 the Teacher whispered； his voice quavering。
Vernon squirted some more deet into his hands and gently smoothed it over the Teacher's face and around his neck。 The Teacher sighed