"I think I've found what the gun is supposed to guard. Come and give me a hand."
"All right," Dorle said abruptly. "Let's go." He seized Nasha's hand. "Come on. Let's see what he's found. I thought something like this might happen when I saw that the gun was—"
"Like what?" Nasha pulled her hand away. "What are you talking about? You act as if you knew what he's found."
"I do." Dorle smiled down at her. "Do you remember the legend that all races have, the myth of the buried treasure, and the dragon, the serpent that watches it, guards it, keeping everyone away?"
She nodded. "Well?"
Dorle pointed up at the gun.
"That," he said, "is the dragon. Come on."
Between the three of them they managed to pull up the steel cover and lay it to one side. Dorle was wet with perspiration when they finished.
"It isn't worth it," he grunted. He stared into the dark yawning hole. "Or is it?"