They swam together for quite a while, neither wanting to break the silence. It would be, thought Bobby vaguely, an act of disloyalty. To Pop and Dick and the family. Of course, if Junior spoke first.... When they were dressing, each on his own side of the river, Junior spoke. He said, "You ever play quoits any more?" "All the time," said Bobby airily. He hadn't laid a hand on the quoits since that afternoon. "We have a lot of fun," he said. "Well, so do we," said Junior. He added, "Anyway, I can have your quoits' run after you leave Eros. My Dad said so." "Don't hold your breath waiting," snorted Bobby. "I guess I'll be living in your big house after you go away." "It's a nicer house than yours!" "Did I say it wasn't?" Bobby had seen it. It was a beauty. But why not, with the limitless power of an atomic machine to supply the labor of creating plastic, operate the lifts and perform all the hard manual labor? "You ought to see our garden, though. We've got corn and beans and all sorts of things." "No kidding?" Junior looked hungry. But he shook his head. "Synthos suit me _exactly_! I'd rather eat them than any home-grown stuff." "I bet!" scoffed Bobby. He had finished dressing. He turned awkwardly. "Well--see you!" he said. "Tomorrow night," said Junior. And, shucks, that was a date. He couldn't break it, after that, even if he had only been being polite. And it sort of got to be a habit to swim together for a little while every evening. He didn't tell Pop because Pop would be mad. And Junior didn't tell his old man, because he knew he'd get whaled.... * * * * * And the weeks raced by on eager feet. Until one day, shortly after breakfast, Bobby went out to see how clear the weather was, so he could go fishing; looked heavenward--and came racing back into the house. "Pop!" he yelled. "Dick! A ship! I think it's the Patrol ship. Coming here!" They came running. And it was the Patrol ship. It circled high above them like a giant eagle, then, with a flat, flooding thunder of jet-fire, dropped to rest in a field between the properties of the two feuding clans. VI The commander of the Patrolship _Sirius_ was Lt.-Col. Travers, third ranking officer of the Belt Fleet. He shook Pop's hand heartily. "Glad to meet you, Dr. Moseley. I've heard so much about you, I feel as if I already know you. My nephew was a student in several of your classes at Midland U. He said you were a very capable instructor ... and if I may judge from what we noted from above, I might add that you are an extremely capable colonist as well as professor." Pop wriggled. "Why--why, thank you, Colonel." "This fine farmland," smiled the space officer, "and that artesian well I see across the river ... these silos, and your magnificent dwelling...." Pop hrrumphed, even more embarrassed.