"I know," said Strong in a hoarse whisper, "but if he knows where Wallace and Simms are, he'll tell me. You can bet your last credit, he'll tell me!"
Shinny paused reflectively. "I won't bet," he said simply.
The air inside the space shack was stale because of a faulty filter in the oxygen circulator that neither Wallace nor Simms bothered to clean. The two men lazed around in stocking feet and undershirts, listening to popular music coming over the audio receiver on a late pickup from one of the small Jovian satellite colonies near by.
"Pour me another cup of coffee, Simms," grunted Wallace.
The smaller man poured a cup of steaming black liquid and silently handed it over to his companion. They both listened as the music faded to an end and the voice of the announcer crackled over the loud-speaker.
"This audiocast has been beamed to space quadrants D through K, as a courtesy to the army of uranium prospectors working the asteroid belt. Hope you've enjoyed it, spacemen, and happy hunting!"
Wallace reached over and snapped off the receiver. "Thanks, pal." He laughed. "The hunting's been real good! We've got a full catch!" The giant spaceman laughed again.
"Yeah," agreed Simms. "I just went over the take. We've got enough money in that locker"—he indicated a black box on the floor—"to sit back and take it easy for the rest of our lives."
"Yeah?" snarled Wallace. "You mean sitting in the sun on a crummy lakeside, watching the birds and bees?"