"So, do you know your way around here? Is there a Nissan Sentra sitting around that we can use, or public transportation? Drover made it seem as though I wouldn't be finding a taxi anytime soon."
"The nearest town is Des Moines, and it's about seven miles west of here."
"Fine. We'd better start skipping off, then. Which way is west?"
"Whee, we're not going to walk to Des Moines."
"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 Suitcase Lodge."
"I didn't find Drover 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 nattered rapidly.
"Goodness me. So, what is this place? Hartley's private resort?"
They had been slumping down the trail all this time, and found themselves in a cave.
"Let's go down to that mushroom and wait," he intimated. "Maybe we can get the jump on them, if the Hartley dorfs don't see us first. I don't suppose you have a wrench or anything useful like that on you?"
"What do you think?