"I know all that," Morrison said. "But I'm telling you, I only need a day or two more—"
"Absolutely impossible. By the rules, we shouldn't even help you out now. The time to report bankruptcy was a week ago, when your sandcar broke down. Your garage man reported, as required by law. But you didn't. We would be within our rights to leave you stranded. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, of course," Morrison said wearily.
"However, the company has decided to stretch a point in your favor. If you turn back immediately, we will keep you supplied with water for the return trip."
"I'm not turning back yet. I'm almost on the real stuff."
"You must turn back! Be reasonable, Morrison! Where would we be if we let every prospector wander over the desert while we supplied his water? There'd be ten thousand men out there, and we'd be out of business inside of a year. I'm stretching the rules now. Turn back."
"No," said Morrison.
"You'd better think about it. If you don't turn back now, Public Utility takes no further responsibility for your water supply."
Morrison nodded. If he went on, he would stand a good chance of dying in the desert. But if he turned back, what then? He would be in Venusborg, penniless and in debt, looking for work in an overcrowded city. He'd sleep in a community shed and eat at a soup kitchen with the other prospectors who had turned back. And how would he be able to raise the fare back to Earth? When would he ever see Janie again?
"I guess I'll keep on going," Morrison said.