"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." Suddenly Buck stiffened, looking out the window. He got up, his bulging blue eyes staring down at us. "Randolph's coming down the street! You two just stay put, and maybe--just maybe--I'll let you live. Professor, I wanta talk to you some more about this telekinesis stuff. Maybe I can get even faster than I am, or control my bullets better at long range. So you be here, get that?" * * * * * He turned and walked out the door. The professor said, "He's not sane." "Nutty as a locoed steer," I said. "Been that way for a long time. An ugly shrimp who hates everything--and now he's in the saddle holding the reins, and some people are due to get rode down." I looked curiously at him. "Look, professor--this telekinesis stuff--is all that on the level?" "Absolutely." "He just _thinks_ his gun into his hand?" "Exactly." "Faster than anyone could ever draw it?" "Inconceivably faster. The time element is almost non-existent." I got up, feeling worse than I'd ever felt in my life. "Come on," I said. "Let's see what happens."