"Huh?" Marc said.
"Tripping over that damned cord just when we'd gotten away from them all. Big-footed oaf."
"Oh, golly, that's right," Marc said. "We're back in the valley."
"You're darned tootin' we're back in the valley," Toffee said fretfully. "And that means it's all over. No high-life, no snaky-dressed, and no...."
"There wouldn't have been any of that anyway," Marc put in hastily. "It's just as well."
"Don't be too sure," Toffee said with a sidelong glance. "All I needed was a few more minutes and...."
"What happened to your gadget?" Marc asked, changing the subject.
Toffee picked up the instrument from the grass beside her and shook it. It made a loose rattling sound.
"I broke it when I hit you over the head with it." She tossed it away from her and it rolled down the slope and out of view. "It's served its purpose." She turned to Marc. "That is if you'll just stop making people want to kill you."
"I feel all dented and scratched," Marc said. "But I guess I'm all right."