The two brothers stood looking the old wreck over. 'Junk,' decided Castor. 'Not junk,' objected' Pollux. 'A jalopy - granted. A heap any way you look at it A clunker possihly. But not junk.' 'You're an optimist, Junior.' Both boys were fifteen; Castor was twenty minutes older than his brother. 'I’m a believer, Grandpa - and you had better be, too. Let me point out that we don't have money enough for anything better. Scared to gun it?' Castor stared up the side of the ship. 'Not at all - because that thing will never again rise high enough to crash. We want a ship that will take us out ....
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