"I guess so," Adam repeated. "My folks will be sore. They'll never believe such a story. They'll think I ran wild or something." Summersby, still looking upward, and wondering if he could be staring blindly at the planet which Watkins must be trying to leave even now, put a hand on his heart. "Was he right? They did fix up everyone else." He laughed. It was the first time he had laughed normally in seven months. "I could get into the rangers again," he said. "Adam, I've got to see a doctor. I've got to find out something." "Yes, sir," said Adam unhappily. Summersby looked at him. "Really worried about your folks?" "Yes, sir." "I'll come home and tell them, if you like." Adam said gratefully, "Mr. Summersby, you're a gentleman." "No," said Summersby, "no." "Yes, sir, you are. Can we wait just a minute more? Mr. Watkins might be along any minute now." "We'll wait." After a while Adam said, "Remember that first feed we got up there, pies and cookies and glass?" "I remember it." "They must have just aimed that machine at a bakery window here on Earth, and taken glass and all." "That's it." "Probably it was called a smash-and-grab robbery, down here." He kicked something, bent down and picked it up. It was the safe-cracker's gun. "I didn't think he'd carry one," said the boy. He looked closer at it. "God!" "What is it?" Summersby shifted the briefcase and held out a hand. Adam laid the weapon in his big palm. "He must have won it at the park that day," Adam said. "That old crook! Old faker!" Summersby held it up. It looked like a small automatic of blued steel, but it was plastic. He turned it over. A pencil-sharpener. Summersby grunted. "A toy," he said, giving it back to Adam. "Nothing but a kid's toy." [Illustration]