"Did you lock the gate?" Harry asked. I felt a little sorry for him. Maybe I'm no Frank Buck, but Harry wasn't cut out for the frontier at all.
I told him I locked it. We went back to the cabin and had lunch out of cans. When we were working on a dessert of canned peaches, the spaceship came down.
I beat Harry outside by three steps. The spaceship, a small sportster, sank, on its keel tubes in the mud. It would be a devil of a job getting her airborne again, but we would worry about that later.
I looked at Harry. Harry looked at me. "Customers?" I said in a small voice.
Harry said, "I don't believe it."
We stood with our backs to the Venus on the Half Shell sign running across the upper part of the cabin wall and waited. After a little while the small sportster's hatch swung out. We squinted at it through Venus' dazzling white sunless daylight and waited.
A head popped up. Big head with a mane of white hair and pink cheeks and some loose extra chins and a strong jaw and a small red flower of a mouth. Below the head was expensive sports clothing. Very expensive. All suede and linen and the latest hunting styles you see in the catalogues. He looked like a million bucks worth of something out of a Spaceman's magazine. He snapped his fingers and said, "Boy! Our bags."
Harry looked at me again. I looked at Harry. I placed the flat of my hand against the small of his back and pushed. He went stumbling across the mud toward the sportster spaceship. When he got there he managed to say, "I'll take your bags, sir."
"I'll set up your tent, sir," I said.