Queazy looked grave. As gravely, he moved back to the table, gestured to the money. "I hate to spoil your fun, Bob," he said slowly. "We'll have to give this back to Burnside. He didn't ask for quicksilver, you know." "Didn't he?" Bob grinned smugly. "But he asked for cinnabar, didn't he? Wherever you find quicksilver you find cinnabar. Cinnabar is a source of quicksilver. And vice versa. Cinnabar is a sulphide of quicksilver! Nope, we earned that money, Queazy, my boy. It's ours legally. Hands off!" He put Starre's shoe on her foot after emptying it of some more quicksilver. She stood up then, moved very close. "You can ask me now, can't you, Bob?" she whispered. She kissed him. "And if you do, that's my answer." Which, of course, made the question totally unnecessary. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cosmic Yo-Yo, by Ross Rocklynne