You push with all of your might and then things begin to happen—most of which you don’t expect and none of which you can control.
Rocks fall against other rocks in every direction, and timbers split in two with deafening crashes. The log pinning Indy groans and shifts in the chaos—just enough so that you can grab Indy and pull him away seconds before a boulder falls exactly on the spot where he was lying.
“That rock would have squashed me flatter than cellophane tape,” Indy says, running for cover. “What happened to physics and geometry?”
“I said they were the answer. I never said they were my best subjects,” you admit.
“Kid, if we make it to Stanleyville alive, I’m never going to be gladder to say good-bye to anyone than you!” Indy says.
Which, of course, you interpret as just his way of saying thanks for saving his life.











Turn to page 43.