"There's rich stuff just beyond it," Morrison said. "There has to be! Look, Max, I know you're short on money, but I'm going to ask you a favor. Send me a pint of water. Just a pint, so I can go on for another day or two. We can both get rich for the price of a pint of water." "I can't do it," Krandall said sadly. "You can't?" "That's right. Tommy, I'd send you water even if there wasn't anything around you but sandstone and granite. Do you think I'd let you die of thirst if I could help it? But I can't do a thing. Take a look." * * * * * Krandall rotated his telephone. Morrison saw that the chairs, table, desk, filing cabinet and safe were gone from the office. All that was left in the room was the telephone. "I don't know why they haven't taken out the phone," Krandall said. "I owe two months on my bill." "I do too," said Morrison. "I'm stripped," Krandall said. "I haven't got a dime. Don't get me wrong, I'm not worried about myself. I can always eat at a soup kitchen. But I can't 'port you any water. Not you or Remstaater." "Jim Remstaater?" "Yeah. He was following a trace up north past Forgotten River. His sandcar broke an axle last week and he wouldn't turn back. His water ran out yesterday." "I'd bail him out if I could," said Morrison. "And he'd bail you out if he could," Krandall said. "But he can't and you can't and I can't. Tommy, you have only one hope." "What's that?" "Find goldenstone. Not just traces, find the real thing worth real money. Then phone me. If you really have goldenstone, I'll bring in Wilkes from Tri-Planet Mining and get him to advance us some money. He'll probably want fifty per cent of the claim." "That's plain robbery!" "No, it's just the high cost of credit on Venus," Krandall answered. "Don't worry, there'll still be plenty left over. But you have to find goldenstone first." "OK," Morrison said. "It should be around here somewhere. Max, what's today's date?" "July thirty-first. Why?" "Just wondering. I'll call you when I've found something." After hanging up, Morrison sat on a little boulder and stared dully at the sand. July thirty-first. Tomorrow was his birthday. His family would be thinking about him. Aunt Bess in Pasadena, the twins in Laos, Uncle Ted in Durango. And Janie, of course, waiting for him in Tampa. Morrison realized that tomorrow might be his last birthday unless he found goldenstone. He got to his feet, strapped the telephone back in his pack beside the empty canteens, and set a course to the south. * * * * * He wasn't alone. The birds and beasts of the desert marched with him. Overhead, the silent black kites circled endlessly. The sandwolves crept closer on his flanks, their red tongues lolling out, waiting for the carcass to fall.... "I'm not dead yet!" Morrison shouted at them.