It was minutes before he could control his shaking nerves and allow the warm glow of exultation to spread through him like wine, giving him new strength. He arose and, like a bird, made a circle around the lump, using his reaction pistol. He estimated its weight as a thousand pounds, earth measure. Then he stopped to stand on it again, a king on an island. "Of course, it ain't pure gold," Timkin told himself. "But it looks like about fifty percent pure. They say the first moon before it exploded didn't have many seas to dissolve and thin out ore deposits. So I can figure about five hundred pounds of gold. At the pegged rate of thirty-seven SS-dollars an ounce...." Timkin's head was too light and buzzy to reach the total. "But I'm rich," he exulted. "Filthy rich. Gold is even more valuable today than it used to be on earth in the old days." * * * * * Timkin was right. Contrary to all fanciful and unfounded predictions, gold had never lost its value. True, the nations of earth had all gone off the gold-standard in the 20th century and for a while gold was a forgotten metal, buried in vaults. But then it came into its own as one of the most non-corrodable metals. When space travel came into being, an alloy of gold became the standard coating for all equipment used on other worlds, some of which had noxious atmospheres that could rust iron or copper in days to worthless dust. But gold in its alloy-hardened form defied the worst other worlds had to offer. Thereupon gold became a metal of commerce and its value rose even higher than its one-time value as a money standard. And so, with his find of gold, Homer Timkin was as suddenly wealthy as any Spanish explorer of the New World, back in earth's past. "It's sure going to be a pleasure," crowed Timkin, "to drag this lump of gold back to Titan!" "Yeh, it is--for _me_!" Timkin jumped at the sound of the voice behind him, coming out of nowhere. He turned, gaping, to see another man in a vac-suit slowly approaching, with a reaction pistol. Timkin could see the newcomer's _Jetabout_ now, parked alongside his own. Timkin had been too engrossed in his find to see the approach of the ship. "Huck Larsoe!" said Timkin in recognition for he knew all the other prospectors back at the Titan docks. "Yeh, Timkin," returned Huck Larsoe, grinning. "I was the _Jetabout_ that passed you a while ago. Just before you went out of my sight, I saw your ship suddenly scoot on a backtrack. That spelled a find to me! So I turned and came back, and followed you up." Timkin didn't like it. Huck Larsoe was a younger man and filled out his vac-suit with a powerful, hulking body. His stubble of unshaven black beard formed an unkempt fringe to the hard-bitten face that peered out of the visor. There was something in his cold grey eyes that froze Timkin. There was such a thing as claim-jumping here in the lawless territory of the rings.