“I guess maybe there is, if you’re a com engineer,”
227
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ,.
Caitland retorted. Morris appeared to find that satisfactory, even smiled slightly.
“True enough. Brains aren’t your department, after all, John.” Caitland said nothing.
“Even so, John, considering a find like this,” he shook his head, “I’m surprised you didn’t try to hike
out.”
“Hike out how, Mr. Morris? The storm blew me to hell and gone. I had no idea where I was, a busted leg, a bunch of broken ribs, plus assorted bruises, contusions, and strains. I wasn’t in any shape to walk anyplace, even if I’d known where I was in relation to Vaanland. How did you find me, anyway? Not by the automatic com caster, or you’d have been here weeks
ago.”
“No, not by that, John.” Morris helped himself to the remaining chair. “You’re a good man. The best. Too good to let rot up here. We knew where you were to go to cancel the appointment. I had a spiral charted from there and a lot of autofliers out hunting for you. “They spotted the wreckage of your fan three days ago. I got here as fast as I could. Dropped the business, everything.” He rose, walked to a window and looked outside, both hands resting on the sill.
“Now I see it was all worth waiting for. Any idea how many trees there must be in this valley, Caitland?” He ought to be overjoyed at this surprise arrival. He tried to look overjoyed.
“Thousands,” Morris finished for him, turning from the window. “Thousands. We’ll file a formal claim first thing back in Vaanland. You’re going to be rich, John. Rich beyond dream. I hope you don’t retire on it—I need you. But maybe we’ll all retire, because we’re all going to be rich.