"He does sound like an untipped bellboy at that," I remarked.
Snow ignored this, and continued. "Well, I went into the cave with him. After all, getting eaten by a dragon has no worse end result than getting hit with a collapser-bolt."
"The process is a bit more painful, though," I said.
"I took that chance," Snow said. "I had to. So I followed it for what seemed miles of slippery tubular tunnels—knowing, and it scared me stiff, that I'd never find my way out without a map—and it led me here, where I met Clatclit."
"And where, by the way," I said, "are we?"
"Darned if I know," said Snow. "We're at present in a room off one of those tunnels I mentioned. The sugarfeet have been wonderful, helping you. Especially in bringing water for you; they're deathly scared of the stuff."
"I would be, too, in their case," I said. "It'd be like toting around a carboy of sulphuric acid."
"Well, anyhow, you're alive," she said, "and that's something. But as for Ted—" her voice faltered.
I looked up, startled. "He's not dead?"
"D—? Oh, no. At least I hope not!" she said. "I only meant that, while I've located Clatclit, I can't figure out either his gestures or his—pardon the expression—words."