The other considered him for a moment, his jaw working like a peculiar cam. His eyes traveled up McCarthy's spare body. Then he spat contemptuously and turned to the rock. He grunted against it. McCarthy sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. He spun him around. "What for you have to go and act so stubborn, fella? Now I'll have to lick you." Without changing his vacant expression to one of the slightest hostility, the stranger aimed a prodigious kick at his groin. McCarthy dodged easily. That was an old hobo trick! He chopped out rapidly against the man's face. The stranger ducked, moved away and came back fighting. This was a perfect spot for the famous McCarthy one-two. McCarthy feinted with his left, seemingly concentrating all his power at the other's middle. He noticed that his opponent was also making some awkward gesture with his left. Then he came up out of nowhere with a terrific right uppercut. WHAM! Right on the-- --on the button. McCarthy sat up and shook his head clear of bright little lights and happy hums. He had connected, but-- So had the other guy! He sat several feet from McCarthy, looking dazed and sad. "You are the stubbornest cuss I ever saw! Where did you learn my punch?" "_Your_ punch!" They rose, glowering at each other. "Listen, bub, that there is my _own_ Sunday punch, copyrighted, patented and incorporated! But this ain't gettin' us nowhere." "No, it ain't. What do we do now? I don't care if I have to fight you for the next million years, but I was paid to move that rock and I'm goin' to move it." McCarthy shifted the quid of tobacco. "Looky here. You've been paid to move that rock by Professor Ruddle or Guggles or whatever he is by now. If I go back and get a note from him saying you're not to move that rock and you can keep the check anyways, will you promise to squat still until I get back?" The stranger chewed and spat, chewed and spat. McCarthy marveled at their perfect synchronization. They both spat the same distance, too. He wasn't such a bad guy, if only he wouldn't be so stubborn! Strange--he was wearing a camera like the one old Ruddle had taken from him. "O.K. You go back and get the note. I'll wait here." The stranger dropped to the ground and stretched out. McCarthy turned and hurried back to the time machine before he could change his mind. * * * * * He was pleased to notice as he stepped down into the laboratory again, that the professor had rewon his gentle patch of white hair. "Saaay, this is gettin' real complicated. How'd you make out with the wife?" "Wife? What wife?" "The wife. The battle-axe. The ball and chain. The steady skirt," McCarthy clarified. "I'm not married. I told you I considered it a barbarous custom entirely unworthy of a truly civilized man. Now stop babbling and give me that camera." "But," McCarthy felt his way very carefully, "but, don't you remember takin' the camera from me, Professor Ruddle?"