Tommy O'Doul pushed his way to Greg's side. "Can I stay, too, Greg? Can I, huh? Me, too?" Greg said gratefully, "If you want to, Tommy. But, Bert--_you_?" * * * * * For Bert Andrews had also aligned himself with his aunt and Sparks. Now he said defiantly, "What Aunt Maud says is good enough for me. I'll stick!" 'Tina was already beside Greg; her gaze was fiercely loyal. She did not need to say anything. Captain Allengrove looked stunned. "But really," he said, "but really, this is most unusual! I mean, we were sent to rescue you! I--er--I don't quite see how you expect to survive without leadership--" Aunt Maud snorted belligerently. "Leadership! You just leave us supplies and we'll have all the leadership we need! Marberry, you're staying, aren't you? Well, that's seven of us. A lucky number! I don't suppose there are any more?" She glared at Crystal. Greg, too, was watching the girl. Now before the steadfastness of their combined gazes, her eyes dropped. Her cheeks colored faintly. But she did not move from Breadon's side. She said, "I--I'm sorry. I hope you understand, Greg." Greg said, "I understand." "Furthermore," declared Aunt Maud staunchly, "I'm warning you, Jonathan! I know you! If you go home bragging about your part in the colonization of Titan, I'll follow you, so help me! And if you fail to keep us equipped with supplies--" J. Foster said hurriedly, "Now, Maud!" Captain Allengrove looked at them all uncomprehendingly. It didn't make sense. But he was a Space Officer--it was not his place to engage in family quarrels; his duty was to rescue what few of this astonishing crew wished to be rescued. He coughed nervously. He said, "Well, Mr. Andrews--if you're ready now?" "Yes," said J. Foster. "We're ready now. Goodbye, Greg," he said. "And--er--thanks, old boy!" Greg said levelly, "That's all right. Goodbye." He said, less levelly, "Goodbye, Miss Andrews." But Crystal and Breadon were already turning toward the portal, toward the cruiser that would carry them back to an easier, gentler world. So at the end, there were no last farewells. Just a single word, and silence. Yet somehow, strangely, Greg Malcolm did not mind too much. For in losing one thing, he had found much more. He was bulwarked with greater, truer friends than most men ever know ... he stood in a cave that was his home ... on a new world that was yet his shining, unblemished empire. And there was the touch of a warm hand on his own. End of Project Gutenberg's Wanderers of the Wolf-Moon, by Nelson S. Bond