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Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

Each canoe that makes the treacherous descent goes to school on the previous one’s mistakes. Gisco and Mudinho come down second to last. I know the boy can’t swim, but there’s not a trace of fear in his eyes as he helps paddle their dugout through the roaring torrent.

Gisco appears to have no recognition at all of the dangers around him. While it’s true that the big dog is as buoyant as a manatee, the old Gisco would have been hugging the floor of the canoe and cutting deals with the Great Dog God. But the sweet-natured simpleminded hound who sits near Mudinho just cocks his big ears and peers around at the roiling rapids as if contemplating a midmorning bath.

57

57

Lunch is nuts and berries, eaten on a great flat rock that looks like a giant’s table. A troop of monkeys finds us hilarious—they hoot and cackle above us, showing off as they swing back and forth on vines.

The truth is I wouldn’t mind a nice hot pastrami sandwich. “At least this trip is lowering my cholesterol,” I say to P.J. as I crunch a nut between my teeth.

“That was never your problem,” she tells me. “By the way, nice paddling back there in the white water, Bozo.”

It was her pet name for me. I almost tear up when I hear it. “Nice pushing off rocks,” I manage to say back.

“I hate to admit it, but this part of the trip is almost fun.”

“I’m sure there’s something nasty up ahead that will try to devour us,” I tell her.

“Nothing like an optimistic attitude.” P.J. pauses, and lowers her voice. “Jack, I’m sorry if I was tough on you last night. I really want to believe your story.”

I put my arm around her. “I don’t even believe it myself half the time. What’s important is that we’re back together. Now, how about a kiss, sugar lips?”

“Here? In front of everyone?”

“Why not?” I demand. “Think of it as a public declaration that we’re going steady.”

“Next you’re going to ask me to wear your stinky varsity jacket.” She leans toward me. “Just don’t go for second base,” she whispers, “or you’re caiman feed.”

She gives me a big, sweet smooch.

When we break apart, I see the Korubo chief watching us and smiling. He walks over, slaps me on the back, congratulating me man to man, and then points to our canoe. Time to get going again.