"I know the truth ain't popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something.

And hand me over my suit case, will yuh?
I want some dry socks to put on when I get there." Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front seat.
After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, climbed out and went over to a bushy live oak to confer in privacy.

Mert carried the leather bag with him.
By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had gone through his belongings and had taken out a few letters that might prove awkward if found there later, two pairs of socks and his razor and toothbrush.
He was folding the socks to stow away in his pocket when they got in.
"You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home," Foster told him curtly.

It was evident to Bud that the two had not quite agreed upon some subject they had discussed.

"That's all right.