Still, they have their theories. They say they believe that it is possible that Taylor survived the horrors of the swamp not in spite of his autism, but because of it.

''He doesn't know how to panic,'' Jayne said. ''He doesn't know what fear is.''

Her brother is focused, she said. Mrs. Touchstone says Taylor will focus all his attention and energy on a simple thing -- he will fixate on a knot in a bathing suit's draw string -- and not be concerned about the broader realm of his life.

If that focus helped him survive, Mrs. Touchstone said, then ''it is a miracle'' that it was her son and not some otherwise normal child who went for a four-day swim in the black water of a region in which Army Rangers and sheriff's deputies could not fully penetrate. He may have paddled with the gators, and worried more about losing his trunks.

''Bullheaded,'' said Mrs. Touchstone, who is more prone to say what is on her mind than grope for pat answers. Instead of coddling and being overly protective of her child, she tried to let him enjoy a life as close to normal as common sense allowed.

Taylor's scramble and swim through the swamp, apparently without any direction or motive beyond the obvious fact that he wanted to keep in motion, left him with no permanent injuries. On Wednesday, he sat in his living room, the ugly, healing cuts crisscrossing his legs, and munched junk food.

''Cheetos,'' he said, when asked what he was eating.

But when he was asked about the swamp, he carefully put the plastic lid back on the container, and left the room. He did not appear upset, just uninterested.

Lifelong Swimmer At Home in Water

Taylor has been swimming most of his life. In the water, his autism seems to disappear. He swims like a dolphin, untiring.