Brown shook his head. "Not necessary. If the machine works, we will be ... home. If not, well, you will just have to tinker with it some more." It was not sound reasoning, from Dolan's viewpoint, but consistent with what he had come to expect from these people in technical matters. He had counted heavily on such a reaction. "OK," he said. "Then she's ready to go." Brown nodded and tossed a key to Smith, speaking curtly in a language strange to Dolan. Dolan had noticed long before that the back bedroom door was always locked, and the windows securely boarded up. Artifacts of historical interest, Brown had told him. It seemed like rather extreme precaution to take for security of such material. Brown turned back to Dolan. "You had better move your equipment out of range of the machine now, if you wish to keep it," he said. Dolan carried his equipment outside. When he returned the three aliens were carrying small heavy boxes out of the back room, stowing them in a tight circle about the machine. Moirta was straining at a heavy case with neatly dove-tailed corners, marked "Remington". So that was what it was all about. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder how, if the machine could not move a person into the future, if it had no real existence in this time, they expected to move guns and ammunition. Did the laws of time operate differently for living organisms and inanimate things? What was it someone had once said about life--'islands of reverse entropy'? But that was only a figure of speech, men were still made up of the same elements as steel and brass-- Well, it could wait, there were more important things right now. "You need a hand?" he asked Moirta. She smiled and nodded breathlessly. As he stooped to help lift the box, their heads almost touched. "Listen!" he whispered, "be on your toes, now. I'm going to try something. Stay on this side of the machine, no matter what happens, and do just as I say." She looked startled, but nodded. With four of them working, it did not take long to pile the cargo in place. Brown checked it over with his eye and then turned to study Dolan. "Well," he said slowly, "I suppose we are ready to go. No doubt you wish your payment now, eh, Mr. Dolan?" This was the critical point. Dolan tensed as Smith stepped clear and lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Brown, his hand in his hip-pocket; but the senior gun runner shook his head. "Don't be stupid," he said quietly. "I think we have a few negotiations to make now." He looked at Dolan inquiringly. Dolan hoped his relief did not show too clearly. He had been reasonably sure Brown would be too acute to kill him off-hand, but it had been a tricky moment, just the same. Now, he thought, play it cagey, make them lay it out on the table, get it moving-- "I'm no good at guessing games," he said. "You'll have to come down to my level on this."