w about building up our own power," suggested Tom. "It's a long haul
to Atom City. Let's get a bite to eat."

"O.K. with me, spaceboy!" Astro grinned. "I could swallow a whole
steer!"

"That's a great idea, cadet," said a voice from behind them.

It came from a gray-haired man, neatly dressed in the black one-piece
stylon suit currently in fashion, and with a wide red sash around his
waist.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Tom, "were you speaking to us?"

"I certainly was," replied the stranger. "I'm asking you to be my guests
at dinner. And while I may not be able to buy your friend a whole steer,
I'll gladly get him a piece of one."

"Hey," said Astro, "do you think he means it?"

"He seems to," replied Tom. He turned to the stranger. "Thanks very
much, sir, but don't think Astro was just kidding about his appetite."

"I'm sure he wasn't." The gray-haired man smiled, and came over and
stretched out his hand. "Then it's a deal," he said. "My name's Joe
Bernard."

"Bernard!" exclaimed Roger. He paled and glanced quickly at his two
friends, but they were too busy looking over their new friend to notice.

"Glad to know you, sir," said Tom. "I'm Tom Corbett. This is Astro, from
Venus. And over here is--"

"Roger's my name," the third cadet said quickly. "Won't you sit down,
sir?"

"No use wasting time," said Bernard. "Let's go right into the dining
car." The cadets were in no mood to argue with him. They picked up the
small microphones beside their chairs and sent food orders to the
kitchen; and by the time they were seated in the dining car, their
orders were ready on the table.

Mr. Bernard, with a twinkle in his eye, watched them enjoy their food.
In particular, he watched Astro.

"I warned you, sir," whispered Tom, as the Venusian went to work on his
second steak.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," said Bernard. He smiled, lit
a cigar of fine Mercurian leaf tobacco and settled back comfortably.

"And now," he said, "let me explain why I was so anxious to have dinner
with you. I'm in the import-export business. Ship to Mars, mostly. But
all my life I've wanted to be a spaceman."

"Well, what was the trouble, Mr. Bernard?" asked Roger.

The man in black sighed. "Couldn't take the acceleration, boys. Bad
heart. I send out more than five hundred cargoes a year, to all parts of
the solar system; but myself, I've never been more than a mile off the
surface of the earth."

"It sure must be disappoin