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Ashley glances around and pretends to be confused. "I don't see Munro yet. Are you sure you hollered loud enough? Maybe he needs hearing aids."
"Munro does everything in his own time. No point in trying to hurry him—or slow him down."
A figure appears along the shore, wading through the water's edge. Munro takes his time heading for us, and he has his damp shirt draped over one shoulder.
Ashley admires my cousin's chest. And I don't care. She can look at his body all she wants because I'm the only one she wants to shag. I prefer to admire her body, rather than Munro's. Unfortunately, the lass is wearing clothes that cover almost all of her sexy body, except for her arms.
"Did ye solve the mystery?" Munro asks, as he stops near us to wring out his wet shirt.
"Not quite," I say. "But Ashley is a genius. She deciphered the real meaning of the squiggly lines on the map."
"Squiggly?" His lip curls a wee bit, and he speaks the word as if he's just swallowed a rotten egg and wishes he could spit it out.
"Aye, squiggly. That's a word, Munro. It's even in the dictionary."
"Which one?"
"Oxford, of course."
Before Munro can complain about that, Ashley speaks up. "It's in the Merriam-Webster dictionary too."
My cousin rolls his eyes. "Well, if Americans say it's a real word, it must be true."
I give up on trying to convince him. Let the grumpy sod think what he likes.
"The point is," I say, "that Ashley and I understand what we're looking for now. The map will be of much more use to us."
"Good. Where is the treasure?"
"Slow down, Munro. This is a quest, which means it will take time."
He grunts.
Aye, Munro makes Magnus the Pig-Bear seem like a cheerful chatterbox. I still think his wife's nickname for him is bizarre, but then, they are a strange couple. Not as strange as I am, though. And I will fight to maintain my title as the most bizarre member of the MacTaggart clan.
Ashley holds the map with both hands while staring down at it. "I know we can figure this out. Maybe if I just squint my eyes, I'll be able to see…" Her eyes go wide, and she jerks her head up. "We're heading toward another rapid, right?"
Munro moves closer to us, peering down at the map. "Aye, that's right. We'll go through Sockdolager Rapid next. It's a class seven. Then, about three miles later, we'll hit the Grapevine Rapid, also a class seven. The Grand Canyon is riddled with stretches of rough water."
"Errol, can you bring up satellite images of the canyon?" Ashley asks. "I need to compare those to the map."
"No problem." I bring out my mobile and go to a map site. "Would it be easier to use my laptop? It has a much bigger screen."
"Oh, sure. Let's get that out."
I shove my mobile back into my pocket and hunt inside my pack for my laptop computer. The three of us sit down on the sandy ground and huddle together so we can all look at the images on my computer screen. I've zoomed in on the location where we are now, as well as the immediate area around it.
Ashley stares at the screen without blinking, though her eyes repeatedly flick back and forth between the satellite image and the map in her hand. She uses her fingertips to zoom in and out on the screen while continuing to flick her gaze back and forth. I cannae see how she won't get motion sickness from doing that. But she seems fine, and I don't want to interrupt a clever lass at work.
Finally, she raises her head to look at me. "I think I've found something, but I need a genius's input."
"You're wanting to ask yourself a question?"
"Ha-ha. You are the genius, Errol."
"No, you are."
She shakes her head. "You deciphered the map and—"
