“Naw,” said George. “’Course I’m sorry to lose my stuff back there, and I’m sorry for the men, but most of our stuff is somewhere else. This was a temporary base and the mine wasn’t producing too well anyway. Hardly worth our time. Besides, I’ve learned to be content just about wherever I am. I’ve been around the asteroids a lot and I’ve learned to depend on a Resource outside myself whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be brought low, and I know what it is to have plenty. I’ve been thoroughly initiated into the human lot with all its ups and downs—fullness and hunger, plenty and want. Makes little difference to me. Wherever I am, whatever happens, I’m confident. And I’m a man of prayer.”
“I’m sure sorry about your friend Montezuma,” said Zip sympathetically.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, these ships must be the same five that attacked him. They couldn’t have found you without getting the information from Vly. So it’s a good guess that they destroyed his base the way they did yours.”
“Nothing of the sort!” said St. George heatedly. “I told you that those ships were defeated and their crew sent back to wherever they came from with their tail between their legs!”
“But this story about the ‘greegles’—” contributed Joe.
“The greegles sliced those ships up like salami!” insisted St. George. “These ships we’re on are a different lot! And besides, Monty would never have told anybody how to find me—not by force or threat, anyway!”
“We’re sorry, George,” apologized Zip. “I didn’t mean to upset you or cast any doubt on Montezuma Vly. You’re right—he’s not the type to give in to any threat. I must be mistaken.”
“You’re forgiven,” said St. George. He went off to see how his men were doing.
“Zip!” whispered Joe urgently. “You don’t really believe that story about the ‘greegles.’ These have to be the same ships!”