But then, shudderingly, he brought himself back to sanity. The will to live triumphed as it did in all living creatures in the universe. He looked at the stuff which Larsoe had cast from his ship, which was slowly drifting away, scattering.
Rousing himself, Timkin began collecting it and stowing it in his hold. No need to let the stuff go, even if it was a mocking gift from the hated thief. He still had to make a profit on the trip.
Timkin held one carved stone in his hand for a moment, staring at its ancient writings. It was a triangular piece and seemed to have two sets of writing on it. To keep his mind from plunging into black despair Timkin tried to picture again the ancient civilization of the first moon.
But a slight huddled figure sobbed aloud at the controls as the Jetabout left the rings and aimed for Titan.
At the Titan docks two days later Homer Timkin was calm and resigned. There was nothing he could do. No use to put in a complaint against Huck Larsoe, to the police. As Larsoe had said, it was one man's word against another's. With no witnesses the legal battle could only end with Larsoe the winner.
Sighing, Timkin hired a rocket truck and piled the museum stuff aboard and drove to the center of Titan City. Here the Saturn Archeological Museum reared, stately and imposing on its marble pillars.
Timkin drove to the service entrance and rang the bell. An elderly man answered and flashed a smile of greeting.
"Well, Timkin again," he said. "Back with another load of relics from the rings? I take it you didn't hit any bonanza then, eh?"
"Well, I—" Timkin stopped. No need to go into his story, and broadcast his shame and misery to the universe. "No, Professor Blick. No bonanza. But I've got a load of stuff for you to look over for your museum."