"So, do you know your way around here? Is there a Chevy Suburban sitting around that we can use, or public transportation? Cyrus made it seem as though I wouldn't be finding a taxi anytime soon."
"The nearest town is Pittsburgh, and it's about twenty-seven miles east of here."
"Fine. We'd better start darting off, then. Which way is east?"
"Dag nabbit, we're not going to walk to Pittsburgh."
"Fine. I didn't invite you anyway."
"Hold on. They're bound to pick us up soon. We have no food, nothing to drink, no money, as if we had a way to spend it. We may as well go back to Chamber pot Lodge."
"I didn't find Cyrus the innkeeper back there very accommodating. Is he a friend of yours, too?"
"I've been trying to tell you, I'm not working with them. They forced me to come here, and yes, they told me to hook up with you. I just don't know what else to do," she intimated gingerly.
"Hurray. So, what is this place? Hillman's private resort?"
They had been zipping down the trail all this time, and found themselves beside a creek.
"Let's go down to that badger hole and wait," he yelled. "Maybe we can get the jump on them, if the Hillman blatherskites don't see us first. I don't suppose you have a camera or anything useful like that on you?"
"What do you think?