ared at the glass. It moved a fraction of an inch across the
tabletop. No more.

Buck snarled like a dog and swatted the glass with his hand, knocking
it halfway across the room.

"Possibly," the professor said, after a moment, "you can do it with
your gun because you want to so very badly. The strength of your
desire releases--or creates--whatever psychic forces are necessary 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--"

Buck laughed. "Why, hell, I reckon I got bigger ideas'n that, mister!
_Real_ big ideas. There's no man alive I can't beat with a gun! I'm
going to take Billy the Kid ... Hickock ... all of them! I'm going to
get myself a rep bigger'n all theirs put together. Why, when I walk
into a saloon, they'll hand me likker. I walk into a bank, they'll
give me the place. No lawman from Canada to Mexico will even stay in
the same town with me! Hell, what could _you_ give me, you goddam
little dude?"

The professor shrugged. "Nothing that would satisfy you."

"That's right."