"That's what I said," groaned the skipper. "Now be a good boy, Lanse. Go 'way and let me suffer in peace."
"Why," grinned Biggs, "I don't believe there's any reason to suffer, Captain. Because, you see, that strange new substance I mentioned—the one out of which I constructed my telekaleidoscope—is polarium! There are tremendous deposits of it here on Jupiter. Why not? This is the mother planet of Europa—"
So—there you are! That's Lancelot Biggs for you. Screwball, genius, wizard and luck-box extraordinary. Toss him in a mud puddle and he'll come up clutching a diamond every time. Not once in a while. Every time.
And I guess it was just about now that the Old Man slipped me the high-sign to drag hips out of there.
"Look, Sparks," he suggested, "how about you and me take a little walk and explore this here new planet?"
I said, "Oh, I'm quite comfortable here, Cap—"
He jabbed an elbow into my ribs ferociously. "Are you coming peaceable?" he hissed, "or do I have to pull off your leg and beat you over the head with the bloody stump?"
I got it then. Diane and Biggs. They were eyeing each other like two marshmallows ready to melt. So I said, "Well, all right, Skipper. If you want to. 'Bye, folks!"
And do you know—they never even heard me?