He moved back to higher ground, lifted his foot from the mire and removed the boot. He shook something out into his hand. It was round and hard and shiny, perhaps an inch in diameter. He held it aloft between thumb and forefinger. The filtering sunlight struck it and sent back lambent fires.
Joel Latham stared and gasped, felt his senses reeling.
"Purple!" he sobbed. "A purple Josmian!"
e was clambering back toward Kueelo. Forgetting the sweat in his eyes and the insufferable heat, he held the thing aloft.
"Look at it!" he sobbed again. "Look at it shine! Look at the size!"
Kueelo was indeed looking. His yellowish eyes bulged. "A Josmian," he whispered. "We've struck it rich!"
Joel Latham regarded the little caricature with astonishment. Something of sanity came back to Joel Latham. "We?" he said. "I found it. It's mine. I never knew you until four days ago!"
"But I stood by you," the Martian wailed. "Your friends deserted you, but I stood by. Aren't we partners?"