Shafer avoided that steely glance. "Maybe I do and maybe I don't," he
evaded.
Belton scraped the last bit of grease from his plate and belched
contentedly. "I was rich once," he told the fire.
Captain sneered. "You ain't ever had the price of an extra drink in
your pocket."
"I was rich once, just the same." Bill Belton looked from face to face
pleadingly. A coal sputtered into the flame and lit the high color on
his bulby nose and swollen cheeks. "I was rich once, richer than dirt."
"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.
"Nix, I can tell when a guy needs a drink better than I do. I bet
you've seen better days. Bet you were richer than this mug who yaps
about findin' a load of furs--like he was a damned scavenger."
Belton flushed. "Listen." One hand stole within his tattered jacket.
"Easy," Duane said, and patted the worn butt of his gun. Belton slumped
back over the fire and began to mutter to himself.
Shafer had taken another pull at the flask. A feverish light was coming
into his dull eyes.
"Furs," he snorted contemptuously. "Dirty, stinkin' furs! Who gives a
damn about furs? Why, I got a corner on all the wealth in the world.
The overlords will be beggin' after me some day. I'm richer than all
the stars 'cause I got what everybody wants."
"I knew a guy who talked like that once," put in Duane softly. "He was
singin' a tune just like that in a two-bit bar. But he didn't have
money enough to pay for his last drink and they threw him out into the
street."
"Shut up." Captain smiled, confident that Duane had played into his
hand. "Never mind this cynic."
Shafer looked at Duane and tried to sneer. "Think I'm lyin', eh? Well,
you'll see. I used to own my own boat, I did. An' I found a mine, a
nice, floatin' mine. I didn't have to stake it, 'cause I'm the only one
who knows where it is."
"Sure," said Captain.
"Tons and tons of uranium." Shafer turned the words over in his mouth
as though they were bon-bons.
"Sure," said Captain softly. "Enough for all. We'll live like kings."
Shafer straightened and looked about him, frightened. His eyes dulled
again. "You're trying to get me to talk. No, it's mine. All mine. I
found it. Nobody else knows where it is."
Again Captain patted Shafer's thin shoulders. "We were just interested
in your story, weren't we, men?"
Duane grunted his contempt.
* * * * *
Little Shafer took another pull at the flask. "Yes, sir," he said
dreamily. "I was cruisin' out there in space, 'way off the space lanes,
when I bumped into it. A little asteroid not over half a mile across.
And solid uranium. I chartered it. I figgered out its orbit to an inch.
I used to could do that. An' it's mine. Over an' over I keep repeatin'
those figures to myself.
"I may forget other things but I won't forget that orbit. An' I'll
write it down when someone puts the cold cash in my hand."
He was silent for a moment. Then he took another drink and began to
talk to himself. "Yes, sir, I found an asteroid that's solid uranium.
There I was, down on my luck, an' cruisin' around in my own ship, the
_Billikins_--"
His thin hand went to his mouth as though to stop the words. His eyes
were filled with fear. A scream slipped between his bony fingers.
Bill Belton was on his feet, a groping hand within his coat.
"You," he screamed. "Damn it, I'd know the name of that ship in hell.
It was your ship. You took my furs."
The little man's trembling hands were thrust out in protest.
"No!" he screamed. "No, no, no!"
Slowly Belton's hand came from his coat. His stubby, grimy fist
clutched a long knife. "It was you," he cried. He raised the knife in a
shining arc.
Then little Shafer's fear changed to desperation. With a scream he
jumped back and clawed at his coat. He was quick now. Fear had maddened
him. A mean little pistol appeared in his hand. He fired point-blank at
Belton's face.
Belton staggered and fell. His hands came up to a bleeding face
that was a face no more. He screamed a wild, bubbly scream. Then he
rolled into the fire, screamed again, struggled to his feet, and fell
again--and lay still.
"You tricked me, damn you all." Shafer stood above the two seated men
and brandished his gun. His eyes were burning now, little close-set
pools of mad fire. His shaking hand steadied and lowered the gun toward
Duane.
Duane's hand moved like a rattlesnake striking. Two stabs of flame
lanced into the night. Shafer stumbled and fell.
Duane turned his attention to Captain. The little man was nursing a
broken arm. A gun that had been levelled at Duane was slipping from
deadened fingers.
"You fool," he cried. "You killed him. I believed that story. He knew
where the uranium was."
Duane shrugged. "He was crazy. A killer. I know your kind, Captain. I
knew what you were thinking when he hinted that he knew where a load of
uranium was. You were figuring then that only you and Shafer would go
away from this fire. You had your gun on me just then, ready to polish
me off if Shafer missed."
"Damned blundering idiot," Captain swore. "Oh, I wish I had some of my
men here."
"Leave your gun and get out," Duane told him.
"But it's dark. I can't go out there in the dark without a gun."
"Get out!" Duane's words were like icy barbs. "Mornin' will be here
soon."
Captain struggled to his feet. He was sobbing with fear and rage and
pain. Slowly he moved away from the fire.
"And remember what I said," Duane called after him. "Men will conquer
the stars some day--after they have conquered themselves."
Captain's retreating figure faded into the night. The sound of his
stumbling footsteps died away.
Duane sat there before the little fire, staring intently into the
coals, oblivious of the two fallen figures that lay there in the
shadows. At length he arose. In the east a bit of silver was appearing.
As he watched, the silver grew brighter; and long spars of purple and
rose stretched across the sky.
And as morning dawned the sweeping mists faded and disappeared. The sky
was empty--but clear and shining with promise.