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cessary to perform the act." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Young man, suppose you try to transport your gun to--say, to the top of the bar."
"Why?" Buck asked suspiciously.
"I want to see whether distance is a factor where the gun is concerned. Whether you can place the gun that far away from you, or whether the power operates only when you want your gun in your hand."
"No," Buck said in an ugly voice. "Damn if I will. I'd maybe get my gun over, there and not be able to get it back, and then you'd jump me--the two of you. I ain't minded to experiment around too much, thank you."
"All right," the professor said, as if he didn't care. "The suggestion was purely in the scientific spirit--"
"Sure," said Buck. "Sure. Just don't get any more scientific, or I'll experiment on how many holes you can get in you before you die."
The professor sat back in his chair and looked Buck right in the eye. After a second, Buck looked away, scowling.
Me, I hadn't said a word the whole while, and I wasn't talking now.
"Wonder where that goddam yellow-bellied sheriff is?" Buck said. He looked out the window, then glanced sharply at me. "He said he'd come, huh?"
"Yeah." When I was asked, I'd talk.
We sat in silence for a few moments.
The professor said, "Young man, you wouldn't care to come with me to San Francisco, would you? I and my colleagues would be very grateful for the opportunity to investigate this strange gift of yours--we would even be willing to pay you for your time and--"
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