"Huh! You fool little runt! No! I was going to tell her about you
opening up that airlock when Sanford locked us out! Sure I kidded you
about what you're talking about! Sure! I'm going to do it again! But
that's amongst us! I don't tell that outside!"

Haney made an inarticulate exclamation. He understood, and he was
relieved. But he looked disgusted. He released Mike abruptly, rumbling
to himself. He stared out the window. And Mike stood upright, an absurd
small figure. His face worked a little.

"Okay," said Mike, with a little difficulty. "I was dumb. Only, Chief,
you owe me a sock on the jaw when you feel like it. I'll take it."

He swallowed. Sally was watching wide-eyed.

"Sally," said Mike bitterly, "I'm a bigger fool than I look. I thought
the Chief was going to tell you what happened when I landed. I--I
floated down in a village over there in India, and those crazy savages'd
never seen a parachute, and they began to yell and make gestures, and
first thing I knew they had a sort of litter and were piling me in it,
and throwing flowers all over me, and there was a procession----"

Sally listened blankly. Mike told the tale of his shame with the very
quintessence of bitter resentment. When he got to his installation in a
red-painted mud temple, and the reverent and forcible removal of his
clothes so he could be greased with butter, Sally's lips began to
twitch. At the picture of Mike in a red loincloth, squirming furiously
while brown-skinned admirers zestfully sang his praises, howling his
rage while they celebrated some sort of pious festival in honor of his