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.