always have to go down to that devils' wilderness to find out.

"I'll try it, Mr. Rodan," he said.

"Selenography--that's one of my favorite subjects, sir!" David Lester
burst out, making a gingerly leap across the horrible void of spherical
sky--stars in all directions except where the Moon's bulk hung. "Could
I--too?" His trembling mouth looked desperate.

"Very well, boy," Rodan said at last. "A hundred dollars for a week's
work period."

Frank was glad that Lester had a place to go--and furious that he would
probably have to nursemaid him, after all.

Gimp Hines kept riding the rim of his ring like a merry-go-round, his
face trying to show casual humor and indifference over ruefulness and
scare. "Nobody wants me," he said cheerfully. "It's just prejudice and
poor imagination. Well--I don't think I'll even try to prove how good I
am. Of course I could shoot for the asteroids. But I'd like to look
around Serenitatis Base--some, anyway. Will fifty bucks get me and my
rig down?"

"Talk to our pilot, Lame Fella," said the job scout. "But you must be
suicidal nuts to be around here at all."

The others leapt to help Nelsen, Ramos, Gimp and Lester strip and pack
their gear. Ramos' and Gimp's drums were loaded into the job scout's
rocket. Nelsen's and Lester's went into Rodan's.

Gloved hands clasped gloved hands all around. The Bunch, the Planet
Strappers, were breaking up.

"So long, you characters--see you around," said Art Kuzak. "It won't be
ten years, before you all wind up in the Belt."

"Bring back the Mystery of Mars, Mitch!" Frank was saying.

"When you get finished Mooning, come to Venus, Lover Lad," Reynolds told
Ramos. "But good luck!"

"Jeez--I'm gonna get sentimental," Two-and-Two moaned. "Luck everybody.
Come on, Charlie--let's roll! I don't want to slobber!"

"I'll catch up with you all--watch!" Gimp promised.

"So long, Frank..."

"Yeah--over the Milky Way, Frankie!"

"_Hasta luego_, Gang." This was all Ramos, the big mouth, had to say. He
wasn't glum, exactly. But he was sort of preoccupied and impatient.

The five remaining rings--a wonderful sight, Frank thought--began to
move out of orbit. Ships with sails set for far ports. No--mere ships of
the sea were nothing, anymore. But would all of the Bunch survive?

Charlie Reynolds, the cool one, the most likely to succeed, waved
jauntily and carelessly from his rotating, accelerating ring.
Two-and-Two wagged both arms stiffly from his