"Just like that?" said Stiffy.
Stiffy held out his hand, "O.K., if that's what you want to do. I'll
bank your half in the First Martian back on Earth. Leave my address
there. Might want to get in touch with me some time."
Meek gripped his hand. "You don't need to do that. Take all of it. Just
see the plant's fixed up."
Stiffy's eyes shone queerly, moistly in the starlight. "Shucks, there's
enough for both of us. More than enough." His voice was rough. "Now get
along with you."
Meek started to walk away.
"Goodbye, Stiffy," he called.
"So long," Stiffy shouted.
Meek hesitated. It seemed there should have been more he could have
said. Some way to let Stiffy know he liked him. Some way to tell him he
was a friend in a life which had known few friends.
He tried to think of ways to put what he felt in words, but there
wasn't any way, none that didn't sound awkward and sentimental.
He wheeled about, headed for the space port. His feet went faster and
faster, until finally he was running.
He had to get out of here, he told himself, before he got into another
jam. His luck was stretched too thin already. A fellow just couldn't go
on having luck like that.
And besides, there was all of space to roam in, other places to see.
That was what he had set out to do. To see the Solar System in his own
ship, to do all the things he'd dreamed about back in the cubby hole at
Lunar Exports, Inc.
And he was going to do just that, he promised himself. Although he
hoped the next stop would be more peaceable.
Oliver Meek sighed happily--_this was the life_.