Explore "A Trace of Memory" by Keith Laumer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was almost sundown when Foster and I pushed through the door to the saloon bar at the Ancient Sinner and found a corner table. I watched Foster spread out his maps and papers. Behind us there was a murmur of conversation and the thump of darts against a board.
"When are you going to give up and admit we're wasting our time? " I said. "Two weeks of tramping over the same ground, and we end up in the same place."