"Dinner's on," Pudge called from the ship.
Tom knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "Let's eat." He led the way to the ship.
The meal was eaten in an appreciative silence, for Pudge had spread a feast of celebration. When the last of the unaccustomed delicacies was gone, they pushed their plates away.
"Boy," Bart grunted out as he lit his pipe, "I haven't eaten like that since the last time I was hunting. Say, Tom, what say you and I go fishing on the Florida coast when we get back. We can get a fish a day down there."
"We'll do that," Tom said without conviction. He knew when they got back they would go their different ways in the eternal quest of spacemen back home.
"I'm due to get a bigger ship when I get back," Bart said expansively, "and I'm sure going to have Pudge for my cook. How about you, Tom? You're due to step up, now. Want to be my navigator?"
"Sure," Tom said, surprised.
"We'll really do some star mapping," Bart said. "With a bigger and newer ship, we can go clear to the end of the galaxy. Who knows what we'll find for the Astral Service."
"What about me?" Willie said. "Am I going to be retired as your First Mate?"