Delacroix shook his head in amazement. "Dang!! A map in layers!!", he whispered.

"Bobbie, we got some closer inspecting to do, but I don't want to do it where anyone can see it. I think I know just the place. C'mon..."

And the two dangerous veterans of a distant time and an even more distant war-zone slipped through the woods, skirting the main throughfares and attraction. Delacroix motioned his friend forward past the Love and Animal Husbandry station, slipped behind the Capo Canoodles and Banjo Bagel stand, and around the end of Bobert's Bucaneer Theater, and came to a halt at the edge of the darkened tunnel that led into the Mystery Tune and Lost Chord Cruise, a cavernous opening which, when open, led couples in small, swan-shaped boats into the caverns under the hill past dioramas of sweet and scary scenes from folk music to the whispering of mysterious dulcimer sounds. It was closed at this late evening, but Delacroix reached down and thrust his hand into the bracksih water at the tunnel entrance and groped briefly, coming up with a loop of thin, dripping chain.

"A friend of mine is the Bos'n here." he said softly. "Watch."

He tugged three times on the chain, and there was a distant "click" in the depth of the black tunnel, as of a lock opening. He hauled away on it, running the loop back into the lagoon, and shortly a scarlet-hued swan-boat bumbled into the lagoon from the recesses of the tunnel.

"This is how he gets to work to start the ride up," the Gambler whispered. He steered Leej into the far seat and clambered in after him, hauling the swan boat slowly into the darkness.

They sat in pitch darkness hearing the splash of the chain behind and the faint Aerolian whispers of the wind-harps that provided the Tunnel Ride's sound effects. Gradually, a small, dim light appeared against the pitch darkness far ahead.

"That's his operating house...".

The swan-boat bumped gently against a short wooden brow extending from a stone floor carved into the wall, into which a small shack had been built. The lantern which acted as their homing beacon hung from the outside of the shack.

Their footsteps muffled by lapping water and the distant moan of wond-harps, the two men moved into the small but comfortable shack, Delacroix carrying the lantern, and settled at a small deal table in a pair of wooden chairs. Charles rustled under the mattress of a small bunk built in along the far end, and produced a small bottle of what looked to be first-class moonshine, clear and potent.

"Now, my friend," Delacroix said, smiling. "Let's see what this is all about..."

Robert E. Leej smiled, and shook his head. "You sure do have some innerestin' friends, Charlie. Comes in handy, I reckon."

He brought out his half of the parchment document, and Delacroix brought out his, and they bent their heads over the strange cryptic marks in the glimmering lantern-light.