l
squads a half hour to round up the scattered survivors.

Darbor went back to the mine-buildings with the Space Patrol
lieutenant as escort. Denver trudged wearily back up the slope to
recover Charley.

The moondog was in a bad way. He bulged badly amidships and seemed
greatly disturbed, not to say temperamental. With tenderness and
gentle care, Denver cradled the damaged Charley in his arms and made
his way back to the living shack at the mine. Space Cops were just
hustling in the last of the prisoners and making ready to return to
civilization. Denver thanked them, but with brief curtness, for
Charley's condition worried him. He went inside and tried to make his
pet comfortable, wondering where one would look on the Moon for a
veterinary competent to treat a moondog.

Darbor found him crouched over Charley's impoverished couch upon the
metal table.

"I want to say goodbye," she told him. "I'm sorry about Charley. The
lieutenant says I can go back with them. So it's back to the bright
lights for me."

"Good luck," Denver said shortly, tearing his attention from Charley's
flickering gyrations. "I hope you find a man with a big fat bankbook."

"So do I," Darbor admitted. "I could use a new wardrobe. I wish it
could have been you. If things had worked out--"

"Forget it," Denver snapped. "There'd have been Martin's kid. She'd
have got half anyhow. You wouldn't have liked that."

Darbor essayed a grin. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe the old
guy was my father. It could be. I never knew who my old man was, and I
did go to school on Earth. Reform school."

Denver regarded her cynically. "Couldn't be. I'm willing to believe
you don't know who your father was. Some women should keep books. But
that kid's not Martian."

Darbor shrugged. "Doesn't matter. So long, kid. If you make a big
strike, look me up."

The Space Patrol lieutenant was waiting for her. She linked arms with
him, and vanished toward the ship. Denver went back to Charley.
Intently he studied the weird creature, wondering what to do.

A timid knock startled him. For a moment, wild hope dawned. Maybe
Darbor--

But it wasn't Darbor. A strange girl stood in the doorway. She pushed
open the inner flap of the airlock and stepped from the valve.

"I was looking around," she explained. "I bummed my way out with the
Patrol Ship. Do you mind?"

Denver scowled at her. "Should I?"

The girl tried a smile on him but she looked ill-at-ease. "You lo