the Platform! Send up three ferry
rockets with midgets as crews, an' we could weld 'em together and have a
Space Platform in orbit and working--and what'd be the use of sabotaging
the big Platform then? The job would be done! There'd be no sense
sabotaging the big Platform because the little one could do anything the
big one could! It'd be up there and working! But," he demanded bitterly,
"do you think anybody'll do anything as sensible as that?"

His small features were twisted in angry rebellion. And he was quite
right in all his reasoning. Mankind could have made the journey to the
planets in a hurry, and it could have had its Space Platform in the sky
much more quickly, if only it could have consented to be represented by
people like Mike--who would have represented mankind very valiantly.

Sally said distressedly: "Oh, Mike, it's all true and I'm so sorry!"

And she meant it. Joe liked Sally especially right then, because she
didn't patronize Mike, or try to reason him out of his heartbreak.

Then Haney said abruptly: "Somebody's spotted the Chief."

Joe mentally kicked himself. The Chief had said he was going to swim.
Now--but only now--Joe looked to see what he was doing.

He was far out from shore, swimming unhurriedly to the powerhouse at the
middle of the dam. He would reach it, and swing up the ladder that could
just be seen going down the lake side of the dam's top, and he would
explain the situation on shore. A telephone call to Bootstrap would
bring security men rushing at eighty miles an hour, and parachute
troopers a good deal faster. But even before they arrived the Chief
would lead the powerhouse crew ashore armed with the shotguns they kept
for shooting waterfowl in and out of season.

The men on shore might or might not consider the Chief's swim to be
proof that he knew their intentions. They were probably discussing the
matter in some agitation right now. But they couldn't know that the
party on the semi-island was armed.

Suddenly Mike said crisply: "We're goin' to have visitors."

He lay down carefully on the ground, fifteen feet uphill from Sally,
where he could look over the ridge. He snuggled the .22 target rifle
professionally to his shoulder. He drew a bead.

Three men very casually strolled out of the brushwood on the shore. They
moved nonchalantly toward the strand of rocks that led out to the picnic
spot. They looked like anybody else from Bootstrap. Casual, rough work
clothing.