"Let's have that telephone," Morrison said.
The robot's chest opened and a small telephone extruded. Morrison dialed Max Krandall and explained the situation.
"I see, I see," Krandall said. "All right, I'll try to find Wilkes. But, Tom, I don't know how much I can do. It's after business hours. Most places are closed—"
"Get them open again," said Morrison. "I can pay for it. And get Jim Remstaater out of trouble, too."
"It can't be done just like that. You haven't established any rights to your claim. You haven't even proved that your claim is valuable."
"Look at it." Morrison turned the telephone so that Krandall could see the glowing walls of the ravine.
"Looks real," Krandall said. "But unfortunately, all that glitters is not goldenstone."
"What can we do?" Morrison asked.
"We'll have to take it step by step. I'll 'port you the Public Surveyor. He'll check your claim, establish its limits, and make sure no one else has filed on it. You give him a chunk of goldenstone to take back. A big chunk."