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Barry was encouraging “neighborliness” and, when he turned to look toward the Snapdragon, Pete saw the two younger Barrys with their faces again glued to the ports. They were reacting with high glee to the sight of Pete and Jane wedged into the monocar. How, Pete asked himself, had he ever managed to get Uncle Homer into it the previous night?”
    â€œYou’d better explain to your mother why you’re in here,” Pete said as he raised his headpiece preparatory to opening the bubble.
    â€œShe’d only worry,” Jane said.
    It was difficult for Pete to concede the truth of that statement. It didn’t appear to him that Rachel Barry worried as much as she was assumed to. He thought he detected a sublime faith in destiny there. While not bashful in her requests, Rachel Barry appeared to believe that everything would turn out all right if given enough time and a few appropriate nudges.
    Jane said, “Thanks for helping me,” and began to climb out of the car. She wasn’t using her magnets and, as she reached out to grasp the anchor bar beside the Snapdragons air lock, a second monocar dropped down to the asteroid’s surface. As Pete closed his bubble, he glanced in that direction and saw Uncle Homer at the controls. Not wishing to be delayed any longer, Pete raised a hand in salute and lifted his own car away. Evidently Uncle Homer had successfully escaped the wrath of his accuser at the Brotherhood meeting. He wondered how long Homer could continue making such escapes.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    THE CLAIM JUMPERS
    As he lifted away from the cold, bleak surface of Pallas, Pete felt a touch of guilt. This came from the realization that he had not contacted the Windjammer all day.
    Earlier, he’d thought of relaying the good news, but then he’d decided it would be more fun to walk in, after filing the claim, and casually announce the results of his single day’s work. Betcha’s grudging approval would be most pleasant, he’d told himself.
    But the necessity of rescuing Jane had disrupted everything, and now there was just time to reach the Federation office on Parma and file his claim.
    Hoping his father hadn’t worried too much, Pete snapped the switch and gave the Windjammer’s call letters. The gruff voice of Betcha Jones came back.
    â€œWhat are you doing out there, boy? It’s a good idea to report in once in a while.”
    â€œSorry, Betcha. I got very busy. How’s Dad?”
    â€œHe’s too healthy to be down and not healthy enough to be up.” Betcha turned his voice away and Pete heard him say, “He’s finally come in, Joe. Says he was busy.”
    â€œAre you all right, Pete?” It was Joe Mason’s voice, sharp with concern.
    â€œI’m fine, Dad. I made a real strike! Copper! We can put a full crew to work.”
    â€œCocky kids—” This was Betcha’s sour comment. “Goes out and makes a strike in a few hours. Of course it’ll turn out to be a dud, but—”
    â€œIt will not! It’s a thick vein of high-grade ore. We can work the whole asteroid!”
    â€œWhat’s the topography, son?” Joe Mason asked.
    â€œIdeal, Dad. Cone-shaped and smooth. Plenty of anchorage surface. Maximum return with minimum effort. I’m on the way to Parma now.”
    â€œOkay, son. Call us when you get there.”
    It was significant that neither of the men asked the asteroid’s location. The radio channels were open to everyone in the Belt, and in even describing the asteroid’s shape Pete could have said too much. But he was less than an hour from filing, so he’d decided it was safe to reassure his father.
    â€œAll right, Dad. And Betcha—make a big pot of stew. I’ll be plenty hungry when I get back.”
    Pete cut off the channel and spent the intervening time thinking about the Barrys. The only thing really wrong with them was Rachel Barry’s mistakes in