The detective gripped his arm. The driver, leaning back over the seat, joined the detective in that grip.
“Here, Steve,” snapped the driver. “You quit that.”
“We can get to these buildings in time—but we must hurry,” snapped Clement angrily, trying to struggle free.
“You can not,” said the driver. “You can get up to your occiputt in enduring mud, Steve, an’ that’ll be about the limit o’ your carnal activities. What we’ve hit is a slime lake. That mine dumped into here, see? It’s probably a little more solid than water, but more uneasy to swim in, see?”
“But—but—man, we must do something....” cried Clement.
“Sure, Steve, but with circumspuction. As we ain’t sinking no more, we have a sure base or deepo’ to work from. By workin’ cautious....”
“And while we are being cautious—with our lights full on—what will be happening at that mine, my good chap?”
“Not much,” said the driver. “A coyote prowling round, a bat flutterin’ hither an’ thither.... Not much more, Steve. This mine is an abandoned mine, Steve. C’n tell that by the surface o’ th’ slime....”
“An abandoned mine,” snapped Clement in an edgy voice. “But that’s just the place....”