Ssssssh! Be very, very quiet. The audience is sleeeeeeping. Damn, it's dark in here. We're back and alone in The Cave That Lighting Technicians And Other Assorted Best Boy-Type Personnel Forgot, the stage directions indicating the inverse of the "two ghosts eating marshmallows in a snowstorm" line about the blank white piece of paper. Two black cats eating the yucky black licorice while watching this episode of Twin Peaks, perhaps? A sudden flood of flashlight beams indicates that some kind soul on the set for ABC's more popular early-nineties programming -- American's Funniest Toaster Explosions or some such thing -- lent the now-bankrupt production staff of Twin Peaks a sympathy double-A or two. Andy, unable to make out the words on his cue cards, resorts to his default acting style of "they left my last chromosome on the cutting room floor," noting right along with the rest of us, "Nighttime or daytime. Once you get a few feet into this place, you can't tell the difference." In fairness, Andy, it's not easy for us to tell either, seeing as the final four episodes of this show were pretty much burned off by ABC at that ambiguously-lit time of day known as "right after the Suzanne Somers ab-cruncher video infomercial, but just before dawn."
Hawk, dispensing his usual amount of "this is how white men decide I talk, even though the collective Native American immersion by the collective writers' staff includes getting lost on their way to Mount Rushmore and ending up accidentally seeing Crazy Horse from their cars," notes with faux-deep-deep-deep spirituality, "Probably why it's all remained so untouched." That's right. Feel the Earth turn, Dances With Hawk. Cooper warns them to take one step at a time and to stay together, approaching a cave wall with a design on it and noting, "Harry, someone's been here already. Look, they did our work for us." Harry, silhouetted behind him (it might be Harry the only indication that it's him is Cooper addressing him as "Harry" and also the wide-brimmed hat, but it's difficult to say for sure. Maybe it's Harry. Maybe it's Bob Saget. He did lend them the double-As, after all), shines a flashlight on the wall. Hawk leans down and notes tracks in the dirt, which Cooper immediately identifies as Earle's. Harry (okay, it's Harry. Glad we cleared that one up, even with so very little help) asks, "What would Windom Earle be doing here?" Cooper responds that that is "a frightening question to contemplate." Oh no! Run! Cooper delegates duties as any federal lawman in government subsidized spelunking gear must, ordering, "Andy, I'm gonna need an accurate, large-scale rendering of this petroglyph. Harry, let's get Major Briggs on the phone." Harry walks away quickly, exposing himself to the outdoor light and never working again because his eyeballs explode instantly. Oh. So that's why he never worked again.