They all went tumbling from the house. And it was exactly as Grampaw had said. Approaching Delta Port, some on foot, some astride animals curiously horselike save that they had six legs and long, shaggy hair, came a tiny group of men and women. Six in number. Their leader was a man of Pop's age, a baldish man, heavy-set and capable looking. Besides him rode a thin, tired looking woman of forty-odd. Next came a short, pudgy, white-haired man; then, herding beside him two youngsters, a boy of Bobby's age and a girl slightly younger, came the last member of the party. A slim, tall young man with a mop of cinnamon-colored hair. The two groups, one nearing the house, one emerging from it, saw each other at practically the same time. For a moment, no one spoke on either side. Dick had taken the gun from Grampaw's hands, had successfully concealed it. And now Pop broke the silence. "Greetings, strangers!" he cried heartily. "You're plenty welcome to Delta Port!" Then came the shockingly unexpected reply, from the leader of the newcomers. "Greetings yourself, Mister! And what in tarnation thunder are you doing on my land?" IV Grampaw Moseley was a man of action. He groped for the rifle swinging loosely in Dick's grasp. He said, "Gimme! Minute I set eyes on that fat ol' popinjay I knew--" Dick said, "Hush, Grampaw!" and looked at Pop. Pop looked baffled. He watched speechlessly as the caravan drew up beside them, the members dismounted from their odd beasts of burden. Then he said, hesitantly, "There seems to be some misunderstanding here, stranger. Allow me to introduce myself and my family. I am Robert Moseley. This is my father, my wife, my son and his wife and child, my other children--" The heavy-set man made no offer to shake hands. He grunted, "Meetcha! I'm Sam Wilkes. This is my wife, my dad, my kids." He stared at the house, the cultivated fields. A look of grudging respect was in his eyes; there was a touch of envy, too. "Been doin' all right for yourself, ain't you? For a squatter!" Pop said slowly, "Squatter, sir? I'm afraid there's some mistake. This property--as a matter of fact, this entire planetoid--is mine under Earth land-grant law. Now, if you will be kind enough to explain your presence--" "Yours!" Sam Wilkes' ruddy countenance darkened with outrage. "Earth land-grant! Bessie, where'd I put that--Oh, here it is! Take a look at this, Mr. Moseley!" He slapped a strip of parchment into Pop's hand, and Pop unfolded it carefully. Dick looked over his shoulder. One of the curious, six-legged beasts skittered nervously and Bobby started. The rusty-thatched boy who had dismounted from it grinned impishly. He said, "What's the matter, skinny, you scared of him?" Bobby said, "Of course not!" and watched the animal from the corner of one eye. "What is it?" "A gooldak. We brought it here from home. Fastest thing on legs. What's your name?" "Bobby. What's yours? And what do you mean--home?"