"Tomorrow night," said Junior. And, shucks, that was a date. He couldn't break it, after that, even if he had only been being polite. And it sort of got to be a habit to swim together for a little while every evening. He didn't tell Pop because Pop would be mad. And Junior didn't tell his old man, because he knew he'd get whaled....
And the weeks raced by on eager feet. Until one day, shortly after breakfast, Bobby went out to see how clear the weather was, so he could go fishing; looked heavenward—and came racing back into the house.
"Pop!" he yelled. "Dick! A ship! I think it's the Patrol ship. Coming here!"
They came running. And it was the Patrol ship. It circled high above them like a giant eagle, then, with a flat, flooding thunder of jet-fire, dropped to rest in a field between the properties of the two feuding clans.
VI
The commander of the Patrolship Sirius was Lt.-Col. Travers, third ranking officer of the Belt Fleet. He shook Pop's hand heartily.
"Glad to meet you, Dr. Moseley. I've heard so much about you, I feel as if I already know you. My nephew was a student in several of your classes at Midland U. He said you were a very capable instructor ... and if I may judge from what we noted from above, I might add that you are an extremely capable colonist as well as professor."
Pop wriggled. "Why—why, thank you, Colonel."