Chinese translation: Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng, frog riding bastard.

* * * * * * * *

Mal and Flaherty were riding on a buckboard in, as far as Mal could tell, the middle of nowhere. Behind them sat River, invited by Flaherty. Next to River, of course, sat Simon--her constant shadow. Mal was not pleased with the whole arrangement, but Flaherty had assured him the two would not get in the way.

“Not much worried about them gettin’ in the way,” Mal had muttered.

For well over an hour, Flaherty played the tour guide, rambling on about who lived where and whose land they were passing. Mal waited patiently, knowing that some folk just couldn’t be rushed, no matter how much one would like to rush them.

As night settled over the landscape, Flaherty stopped the buckboard in front of a mine entrance. River leapt from the wagon like a bird taking flight with Simon following more slowly. The buckboard had not agreed with Simon’s backside.

“This is my family’s mine, Captain Reynolds.” Flaherty unhitched the horses and put them into a small paddock. “Ours is one of about 26 family-owned mines currently being worked. It varies from year to year, depending on what we’re after.”

Flaherty led Mal, River, and Simon into the mine and gestured for them to sit on a power cart that sat on metal rails embedded in the floor of the tunnel. Seeing Mal’s skepticism over their mode of transport, Flaherty grinned. “Come on, Captain. We have a ways to go still. Surely you don’t want to stay on the buckboard for this trip.”

Not sure it would be any better than the buckboard, Mal settled onto the cart. Once all were seated and strapped in, Flaherty sent the cart through the tunnel at a rate of speed Mal found uncomfortable. Sensing his discomfort, Flaherty smiled and yelled over the rushing air, “Don’t worry. There’s no one else in the tunnels this time of day. We won’t run into anyone.”

“It’s interesting that you have a power cart in this tunnel, Mr. Flaherty.” They