The projector barrel was moving, to center its lens on target. As Pete watched, the lens barrel swung till he could see the glint of light on the outer focusing circles. As the rack with its charges started to face him, he moved back, preparing to roll into the narrow slit beneath the wall. Now, the lens was pointing directly toward him, its iris beginning to widen. He slid off the ledge. There was a sudden, snapping explosion near him. He looked up, to see the lens system disintegrate. The projector suddenly became a blue glare. Pete watched as the tiny figures of the crew members flew back from their fiercely glowing weapon. Abruptly, he realized he was in an exposed position. He ducked sideways, away from the opening, and covered his face. There was a rumbling multiple explosion. Blinding light reflected from the walls of the house. A few tiles crashed to the court. Pete caught his breath again and risked an upward glance. A tall pillar of flame had grown from the field outside. For long moments, it stood motionless, searching for a limit to the sky. Then it darkened. Smoke drifted toward the ranch house and bits of wreckage rained down upon house and field alike. Little puffs of smoke appeared in the sky, close by the still rising cloud. "Pinwheel," said Don calmly. "That's one Dad couldn't beat if he tried. Wish he'd been around to see it." Suddenly, his forced calm deserted him. "Oh, boy," he yelled happily. "Like shooting snakes in a pit." He shoved his rifle back through the port. "Try to wreck our house, will you, you bums!" A figure wobbled up from the field, weapon weaving unsteadily toward the wall. The rifle snapped viciously and the figure melted back into the ground. There was another motion and a sudden spurt of dust followed immediately after the sound of a shot. The motion ceased. The sound of the click of the rifle action was loud against the silence of the scene. * * * * * No more figures moved. Bright flames were growing--working toward one another, to form a widening lake of flame in the grass. Don sighed and started pulling the sling from his arm. Pete stood up, looking at him. "I'm a little confused," he said slowly. "I thought that weapon of yours merely threw a solid missile. The way you described it, I thought it was just ... well, something like a long-range throwing sling." He looked out the port again, then pointed. "But that weapons carrier was shielded. I didn't think you could touch one of those with anything but another inductor." Don leaned the rifle against the wall. "That's the way they figured it, too," he remarked. "But they forgot something. "You see, rifles have been obsolete for so long everybody's forgotten their capabilities. Everybody, that is, except a few crazy hobbyists. And no one ever thinks in terms of long-range missile throwers." "So?"