"Sam. They call me Junior. Why, home is Mars, of course. Where'd you think?" That word was being echoed now by Dick. "Mars! This is a land-grant charter issued by the Martian government! But--but--Pop, show him yours!" "Don't do nothin' of the sort, son!" chirped Grampaw belligerently. "That there scrip o' his'n is prob'ly fake! Don't explain nothin' to 'em. Jist tell 'em to git!" The roly-poly father of Sam Wilkes turned a querulous eye on Grampaw. "Who's the antique?" he demanded throatily. "Sounds to me like one of them big-talkin', poor-scrappin' Earth soldiers I fit in the Upland Rebellion." "Upland Rebellion!" howled Grampaw. "Was _you_ one o' the rebels we chased from the deserts to the Pole? I might of knowed it! Gimme that gun, Dick--" "Please, Grampaw!" begged Dick. He looked at Wilkes. "My father was right, Mr. Wilkes. There is a dreadful mistake here. Apparently the Colonial offices of Earth and Mars have disagreed on the ownership of this planetoid; your government has issued a land-grant on it, and so has ours." "Asteroids," said Wilkes, "are Martian. Their very orbits prove--" "I beg your pardon," interrupted Pop firmly. "Eros' orbit is between Earth and Mars at this moment. It is a part of Earth's empire." "Is it true," Bobby asked Junior, wide-eyed, "that pirate gangs hide in the Martian deserts? I heard--" "Shucks, no! We used to live in East Redlands, they wasn't no pirates anywheres about. Were you ever in Chicago, Skinny? Is it true there's a building there two miles high?" "Two and a half," said Bobby complacently. "And it covers six city blocks. And my name's not 'Skinny'." "--you'll notice," Wilkes was grunting, "my grant is dated prior to yours. Therefore Eros is mine, no matter which government's claim is soundest. That's Intergalactic law." "You seem to forget," Dick pointed out, "that we've established a permanent settlement. As travelers, you may be considered itinerant explorers with only the privileges of a study party. We will extend to you the courtesies of Eros for the legal three months, but after that time--" "_You'll_ extend to _us_!" Wilkes' face was flame-red. "Why, for a lead credit, I'd--" "Sock 'im, Dick!" yelped Grampaw excitedly. "Don't let 'im git away with that talk! Sock 'im!" "Nobody," rumbled a deep, pleasant voice, "is going to sock anybody." The tall, elder son of Sam Wilkes ranged himself beside his father. Bobby noted with sudden approval that the young man's bronzed forearms were corded; there was a crisp, firm set to his lips; he looked like a man who could handle himself equally well in a ball-room or a brawl. He said, "Send the women away, Mr. Moseley. I think we men can settle this matter." * * * * * Moira stepped forward, confronted the young redhead boldly. "And who are _you_ to be giving orders to us? Maybe Martians treat their women like cattle, but Earthmen--"