The mine is cold and dark. At the mouth, Indy can stand at his full height, but deeper down in the main shaft, where it branches into smaller tunnels, he has to bend over to avoid cracking his head against the wooden support beams that run up the walls and across the low ceiling.
“What’s the first thing you ask yourself in a deserted mine like this?” Indy asks?
“Where’s the kitchen?” you joke.
“No, kid. Why is it deserted? What happened?” Indy says, shining his kerosene lantern on the walls. “Did it dry up? Did it cave in? Did a tribal witch doctor place it under a curse?”
The lantern’s beam passes over one wall that seems to shine under its layers of dust. Underneath the dirt is a strange splash of red—painted symbols and lines.
“What is that?” you ask.














Turn to page 79.