"Hi, Wild Bill!" Strongheart yelled at sight of the big spacehound. "Right on time, I see--glad to see you! Luck, too, I hope--lots of luck, and all good, I bet me--ain't it?" "Ho, Strongheart!" the Lensman roared in return, pommeling the divekeeper affectionately. "Had a good trip, yeah--a fine trip. Struck a rich sector--twice as much as I got last time. Told you I'd be back in five or six weeks, and made it in five weeks and four days." "Keeping tab on the days, huh?" "I'll say I do. With a thirst like mine a guy can't do nothing else--I tell you all my guts're dryer than any desert on the whole of Mars. Well, what're we waiting for? Check this plunder of mine in and let me get to going places and doing things!" The business end of the visit was settled with neatness and dispatch. Dealer and miner understood each other thoroughly, each knew what could and what could not be done to the other. The meteors were tested and weighed. Supplies for the ensuing trip were bought. The guarantee and twenty-four units of benny--QX. No argument. No hysterics. No bickering or quarreling or swearing. Everything on the green, all the way. Gentlemen and friends. Kinnison turned over his keys, accepted a thick sheaf of currency, and, after the first formal drink with his host, set out upon the self-imposed, superstitious tour of the other hot spots which would bring him favor--or at least would avert the active disfavor--of Klono, his spaceman's deity. * * * * * This time, however, that tour took longer. Upon his first ceremonial round he had entered each saloon in turn, had bought one drink of whatever was nearest, had tossed it down, and had gone on to the next place; unobserved and inconspicuous. Now, how different it all was! Wherever he went he was the center of attention. Men who had met him before flung themselves upon him with whoops of welcome; men who had never seen him clamored to drink with him; women, whether or not they knew him, fawned upon him and brought into play their every lure and wile. For not only was this man a hero and a celebrity of sorts; he was a lucky--or a skillful--miner whose every trip resulted in wads of money big enough to clog the under jets of a Valerian freighter! Moreover, when he was lit up he threw it around regardless, and he was getting stewed as fast as he could swallow. Let's keep him here--or, if we can't do that, let's go along, wherever he goes!