Damn him. There went Shoemaker's idea of asking casually if they'd seen
any little green creatures around. Burford was feeling sharp tonight,
and he'd pounce on that like a cat.
The three slogged into the circle of light. They looked a little tired,
even the whipcord-lean Burford. Their boots were crusted with blue-gray
mud almost to the knees.
"Have any trouble finding your way back?" Shoemaker asked. Davies shook
his big head slowly. He looked a little surprised. "No.... No, there's
a river up yonder about a mile, you know. We saw it when we landed...."
"Jim was out cold at the time," Burford put in. He grinned nastily at
Shoemaker.
"So we just followed it up a ways and then back," Davies finished,
putting his knapsack down on the galley table. He sat down heavily. "We
didn't see a thing ... not a thing. Looks like we'll have to pick up
the ship and use it to cruise around ... but we can't spare much fuel,
you know." He looked reproachfully at Shoemaker. "We used up so much
correcting course every time you shut off the engines...."
Shoemaker felt himself getting hot. "Well, if you three commissars
hadn't heaved out my Scotch--"
"Okay, okay, break it up," said Hale boredly. He let his soft bulk down
into a chair. Burford stood up, leaning against the bulkhead.
"You hear anything on the radio, Shoemaker?" Hale asked.