uilding rockets, they've got
a space fleet coming along. Intelligence just found out they're nearly
ready for trial trips. They've been yelling to high heaven that we were
building a space fleet to conquer the world. We weren't. They were. And
it looks very much as if they may have beaten us."

The lieutenant got out the dreary mass of papers, intended to call for
every conscious or unconscious observation Joe might have made in space.
It was the equivalent of the interviews extracted from fliers after a
bombing raid, and it was necessary, but Joe was very tired.

Wearily, he said, "Start your questions. I'll try to answer them."

They arrived in Bootstrap some forty-six hours after the crashing of
their ship. Joe, at least, had slept nearly thirty of those hours. So
while he was still wobbly on his feet and would be for days to come,
his disposition was vastly improved.

There was nobody waiting on the airfield by the town of Bootstrap, but
as they landed a black car came smoothly out and stopped close by the
transport. Joe got down and climbed into it. Sally Holt was inside. She
took both his hands and cried, and he was horribly embarrassed when the
Chief came blundering into the car after him. But the Chief growled, "If
he didn't kiss you, Sally, I'm going to kick his pants for him."

"He--he did," said Sally, gulping. "And I'm glad you're back, Chief. And
Haney. And Mike."

Mike grinned as he climbed in the back too. Haney crowded in after him.
They filled the rear of the car entirely. It started off swiftly across
the field, swerving to the roadway that led to the highway out of
Bootstrap to the Shed. It sped out that long white concrete ribbon, and
the desert was abruptly all around them. Far ahead, the great round
half-dome of the Shed looked like a cherry-pit on the horizon.

"It's good to be back!" said the Chief warmly. "I feel like I weigh a
ton, but it's good to be back! Mike's the only one who was happier out
yonder. He figures he belongs there. I got a story to tell you,
Sally----"

"Chief!" said Mike fiercely. "Shut up!"

"Won't," said the Chief amiably. "Sally, this guy Mike----"

Mike went pale. "You're too big to kill," he said bitterly, "but I'll
try it!"

The Chief grunted at him. "Quit being modest. Sally----"

Mike flung himself at the Chief, literally snarling. His small fist hit
the Chief's face--and Mike was small but he was not puny. The "crack" of
the impact was loud in the car.