The Martian, Hanu, his grizzled whiskers blowing about his wizened, elfish face stood alone, an armed man.
"I have returned, Hanu."
"It was not to return you left this cove," the Martian replied, sternly. His great round eyes were fixed on the other.
"My debt is paid, Hanu."
"Money will not repay. Can your gold buy back, your honor, or ours?"
"I did not repay in gold, friend, but in the golden oil your ancestors left us all—the Vadirrian. I bought opportunity and happiness for many others with its price. For myself, you see me as I am. I have nothing else. I return as I left, a derelict."
A slow, wise smile crept over the Martian's wrinkled monkey-face. He pulled at his whiskers. Then he linked arms with the ex-pilot. "Come, friend Thorne. You have paid the debt. Let us go down to the village and see what the women have laid for the evening meal. We shall welcome you...."