God had indeed been generous with this portion of the planet. It was hard to believe that the opposite side was a rocky wasteland that would probably fight colonization for another thousand years. Almost before they knew it, they were at the spaceport. Sometime during the night, another ship had arrived. It stood majestically at the far end of the apron, towering over a knot of tiny figures grouped around the rudder stanchions. The driver swooped past them and brought the half-trac to a halt in front of the reception center where they observed the Colonization Director watching them through the window of his office. Inside, Leon Stubbs greeted them cordially and ushered them into an inner office containing a metal desk and a dozen file cabinets. The Director listened patiently, shaking his head from time to time and muttering remarks about government inefficiency.... When they'd finished, he ran his hand through his greying hair. "This, of course, is an outrage, Gentlemen," he said. "But before I can do anything, I'll have to check both your claims." He indicated the file cabinets. "It may take a little time but I'll get at it right away. As a matter of fact I believe they're serving lunch at the mess hall now. Why don't you all have lunch and come back in about an hour. I'll know more about the situation then." Leon Stubbs shuffled through some papers on the desk, indicating dismissal. The two men joined their families in the anteroom. After an awkward silence, Bruce Whiting and his family excused themselves, leaving the Marshall's alone. "What did he say, Claude? Tell me! What did he say?" "He doesn't know yet, honey. He's checking the claims. We're supposed to come back in an hour." "But it will be all right, won't it. It's got to be all right!" "I don't know, Joan. So help me, I don't know.... We can't both have the land. That's for sure. One of us will have to settle for someplace else." "Suppose we _did_ have to take another tract, Claude. Would you be disappointed--I mean, really disappointed.... After all, isn't the important thing the fact that we're here?" Claude managed a smile. "I suppose so," he admitted. "It's just that it comes as sort of a letdown. For almost seven years now we've been looking at the pictures of _this_ land. We knew where we'd build the house, what portion we'd farm.... I know every tree, every square inch of it.... And now--" "But there's other land. We've only seen a small portion of the planet." He shook his head. "Not like this. This claim has everything. What's more, Whiting knows it. That's why he'll fight us on it all the way." "They seem like nice people. Claude. Couldn't we talk to them ... make some sort of deal?" "A deal? What sort of deal?" "A hundred acres is a lot of land--an awful lot of land.... Maybe the Whitings would--"