It was all rather confusing for Timkin after that. The professor bawled at the top of his voice and more men came rushing out. They all fell to talking as if the greatest event in the history of the universe had taken place. Timkin hovered on the outskirts of the group, forgotten for the time being. But then all the men turned to him. They looked at him as if he were some king or some awesome potentate from another star. "And there, gentlemen!" said Professor Blick, waving at him, "is the man who brought the stone back!" Timkin was in an agony of embarrassment as one by one the archeologists came up and shook his hand silently with reverent respect in their eyes. "Professor," pleaded Timkin when this ordeal was over. "I--I want to get away. Just pay me for the stone, and let me go. If it's so important to you, maybe you could up the price a little, eh? Maybe--uh--a hundred dollars?" Timkin was amazed at his own audacity. * * * * * The professor looked at him queerly, almost pityingly, and said slowly, "One hundred dollars? Timkin, you don't realize the value of this stone. The museum will make you out a check for _one hundred thousand SS-dollars_!" Timkin stood stunned, unbelieving. The professor smiled. "Yes, that's what I said--one hundred thousand. If we could afford it, we'd pay you ten times that. Actually, you see, the stone is _priceless_. The check will be sent to you. You can go now, Timkin." Timkin drove the rocket truck back, in a dream, and passed a red light. The traffic cop wrote a ticket. "That'll cost you twenty-five dollars, bud," he growled. Timkin burst out laughing and kept laughing all the way back to the garage. He was fined 25 dollars. It would have been an economic tragedy before. Now it was a joke. He could pay a hundred fines like that and still laugh. The next day, when the check arrived at his room, Timkin knew it was not a dream. The amount was 150,000 dollars. They had even upped the price voluntarily. Timkin went out, with the check in his pocket, and headed for the _Spaceman's Nook_. He had one more piece of unfinished business to do. He knew he would find Huck Larsoe there and saw him at a corner table. Strangely he seemed depressed, not at all like a man who had just brought in a fortune in gold. "Hello, Huck!" Larsoe looked up sourly as Timkin sat down cheerfully. "Listen, punk, you got nothing on me," he growled. "I know," said Timkin. "But why so glum? What did you get for my--pardon me, _your_--gold bonanza when you cashed it in?" Larsoe smashed his fist down on the table, spilling his drink. "Don't talk to me about that blasted bonanza!" he roared. "You know what it was? It was just plain rock with a film of rich gold ore over it. A fake! A flop! I just got enough out of it to pay expenses and that's all." "Too bad," Timkin grinned, feeling his cup running over.