 Suddenly hands grab at you from behind the tree. You roll away and take off. Over your shoulder you see a tall, thin African chasing you with long strides. Around his neck and wrists he wears cuffs of gleaming silver.He calls out a string of words in a language you can’t understand. And the next thing you know, you’re on the ground with five more natives on top of you. They stuff a leaf that would choke a rhino into your mouth so that you can’t scream. Then they tie you up in wet ropes that tighten the more you struggle.Without a word, they hoist you onto their shoulders and carry you off through the jungle. Twenty minutes later you arrive at their village.The chief comes out to greet you, and your captors drop you at his feet—face down. All the tribal people gather around and smile at you. They begin clicking their silver bracelets together in some kind of sign of happiness.These people are so thin they look like they haven’t eaten in a month, you think. And suddenly you know why everyone’s so happy to see you. These people are cannibals!You’d like to run for it, but your legs are still tied up, and hopping won’t take you more than a few yards. You try to think like the jungle but you draw a blank.The chief points to one of the thatched huts, and you are deposited inside.Then drums begin to beat and people begin to dance. |
Their jangling jewelry sounds like silverware pounding on a prison plate.
You’ve got two choices. You could start singing “A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and see how far you get. Or you could dig your way out!I am not staying for dinner, you think to yourself as your hands claw at the mud at the back of the hut. Digging, digging, in rhythm with the drums, faster and faster.What I need is a machete.Suddenly a gleaming machete blade slashes through the back wall of the thatched hut. You jump back in surprise. Two hands reach in and grab at you. Oh, no—you’re not going so easily this time! You kick and struggle, but the hands clamp your mouth closed and drag you out. For a second time tonight someone is carrying you through the jungle!You squirm and thrash until the man releases you and checks his compass under a lighted match.“Who are you?” you ask in a shaky voice.“Truant officer, kid. Shouldn’t you be in school?” says the unseen face under the brim of a battered brown felt hat. “The name’s Jones.”“Jones?!” you say as he tilts his face to the moon. “Indiana Jones?! Don’t you remember me from the boat?”“Yeah, you were the kid hustling all the old people at the shuffleboard, right?” Indy says.“No, that wasn’t me,” you say. “Did you know that everyone in Africa is trying to figure out what you’re doing here?”Continue |
