The girl turned on him with a spiteful retort as an impatient call reached them from outside. Marlin raised his voice.
"Give me a chance!" he bellowed.
The words echoed through the hollow interior. "It's dark in here. I've got to find 'em, haven't I?" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "How's the wounded jasper?"
"Passed out," DuChane informed him. "I'll lead you to him."
Feeling their way, they emerged in a box-like enclosure partly filled with tools. Maw Barstow, holding a feeble flashlight, squatted beside a huddled mass which was evidently the wounded man. Cradling his head in her lap was Pearl. An accidental shifting of the flashlight beam revealed her tranquil, madonna-like smile as she gazed down at the blood-smeared face.
"Sorry," Marlin announced. "We've got to get rid of this bad bozo. How's he doing?"
"You ain't gonna move the pore critter!" countered Maw fiercely.
Protest was futile. DuChane settled the argument by seizing the shrieking woman and holding her while Marlin gathered up the unconscious outlaw and felt his way back toward the opening. He was nearly thrown from his feet once as the platform—apparently the whole sphere—gave an unexpected lurch.
"Where's the place?" he demanded, sensing figures in the darkness surrounding. "I can't see the light."
Sally's laugh reached him shrilly. "And what's more, you won't."