Peter’s Pits

An expedition trunk of a cabinet, tucked under the thatch at the far end of the street. Beyond the outpost the bush closes in: crocodile rivers, tar pits, rolling logs and a scorpion or two. Run the trail, hop the crocodile backs while their jaws are shut, catch a vine mid-air and let go at the top of the swing. Gather the lost treasure of the expedition before the three minutes are gone, and the front desk will postmark your own Peter’s Pits Ace stamp.