“Okay, kid. I’ve got no choice. You’re along for the ride as far as Stanleyville. You can wire your folks from there,” he says, hopping to his feet and starting off again. “But do as I say. No questions, no comments, and I don’t ever want to hear you say ‘When do we eat?’ Got it?”
“Got it, Mr. Jones,” you say, tearing off the leaf of a plant and eating it. “But do I have to keep calling you Mr. Jones?”
“Call me anything you want, kid. This is going to be a short-term friendship,” Indy says. Well, you have time to straighten him out on that point.
















Turn to page 21.