Something within him crumbled at that question.
"Not so good, Lady," he replied in spite of the resolutions he had made.
She brushed back the hair glued by perspiration to his forehead. Ricky was not gold, he thought, for gold is a rather dirty thing. But she was all steel, as clean and shining as a blade fresh from the hands of a master armorer. He made a great effort and found that he could move his right arm an inch or two. Concentrating all his strength there, he wriggled it back and forth until he could draw it free from the wreckage. But his left shoulder and side were numb save for the pain which came and went.
"Got my arm free," Val told her exultantly and reached up to feel for her in the dark. His fingers closed upon coarse cloth. He pulled feebly and something rolled toward him.
"What's this?"
Ricky's hands slid along his arm to the thing he had found. He could hear her exploring movements.
"It's some sort of a bundle. I wonder where it came from."
"Some more remains of the jolly pirate days, I suppose."
"Here's something else. A bag, I think. Ugh! It smells nasty! There's a hole in it—Oh, here's a piece of money. At least it feels like money. There's more in the bag." She pressed a disk about as large as a half-dollar into Val's palm.
"Pirate loot—" he began. Anything that would keep them from thinking of where they were and what had happened was to be welcomed.