"O. K.," Duane told him. "Maybe you were. Go ahead and tell your tale and get it off your mind. I'm not sleeping tonight, anyway." "It'll be a rum-soaked, mangy lie that he dreamed up between panhandling and fightin' pink lizards." Captain yawned. Belton looked hurt and lowered his eyes to the fire. "I was rich once. I was runnin' a one-man mining boat out of Achilles. It wasn't much of a boat, but it was mine. An' all of a sudden I came across a freighter, a drifter. A meteor had torn about a fourth of her away, and she was driftin' and spinnin' alone out there in space with all the stars a-twinklin' down at her like diamonds sparklin' on black velvet. "So I boarded her, and every bit of oxygen had been ripped from her, and there was all the poor boys there, dead and frozen in Old Father Time's icebox. Well, that ship was loaded with furs. She had been outward bound from Pallas, I reckon. An' those furs were all mine by rights of salvage. A king's ransom. I packed my boat with 'em until I hardly had room to move about it. "An' then, just off Mars, a damned bunch of hellhounds boarded me and cleaned me out and set me adrift in one of those dinky little emergency boats. I've thought of it and thought of it. Those furs were mine. I was rich. They robbed me. But I got the name of that boat. I saw the name. Some day I'll catch some of those fellows. Or even one--" While Belton was talking, little Shafer slowly slumped over the fire and held his hands over the coals. His fingers were shaking as though he had a chill. His dull, close-set eyes glanced this way and that furtively. And two pairs of eyes were upon him, Captain's and Duane's. Captain reached into an inner pocket of his leather jacket and produced a flask. Slowly he uncorked it and held it toward the little man, then drew it back temptingly. Shafer's clutching, trembling fingers followed the flask. "You seem like a good little guy," Captain said. "An' you look sick. Take it all. It's all I've got, but--" He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled his cold smile. * * * * * Duane watched the little play before him. In his deep eyes was pity for this little derelict and contempt for the man who was leading him on. "He thinks you know where some uranium is buried," he said mockingly. "He'll trade you a drink for a ton of uranium." "Go to hell," Captain told him. And then to Shafer, "Go ahead. Drink her down. Don't mind this space lawyer." The little man obliged. Belton watched, fascinated. "Hell, don't I get a nip?" he objected. "Not a drop," Captain's cold eyes were murderous. "Can't you see, this little fellow's a gentleman? I bet he's seen better days--" "Haven't we all?" Duane interrupted. "Leave the little guy alone." Captain thumped Shafer on the back lustily. The little man smiled timidly and tilted the flask again. "Thanks." He drew the back of his hand across his mouth and held out the flask to Captain. Captain waved it away airily.