control it. And when we can, it's the biggest thing
we've got."

Wilson licked his lips, dredged a cigarette out of a pocket.

"If you don't mind," he said, "I'll hit for Frisco tonight. This tooth
of mine is getting worse."

"Sure, can't keep an aching tooth," agreed Russ, thinking of the wrench
while talking.

"Can I take your ship?" asked Wilson.

"Sure," said Russ.

Back in the laboratory they rebuilt the field, dropped little ball
bearings in it. The ball bearings disappeared. They found them
everywhere--in the walls, in tables, in the floor. Some, still existing
in their new time-dimension, hung in mid-air, invisible, intangible, but
there.

Hours followed hours, with the sheet of data growing. Math machines
whirred and chuckled and clicked. Wilson departed for San Francisco with
his aching tooth. The other two worked on. By dawn they knew what they
were doing. Out of the chaos of happenstance they were finding rules of
order, certain formulas of behavior, equations of force.

The next day they tried heavier, more complicated things and learned
still more.

A radiogram, phoned from the nearest spaceport, forty miles distant,
informed them that Wilson would not be back for a few days. His tooth
was worse than he had thought, required an operation and treatment of
the jaw.

"Hell," said Russ, "just when he could be so much help."

With Wilson gone the two of them tackled the controlling device, labored
and swore over it. But finally it was completed.

Slumped in chairs, utterly exhausted, they looked proudly at it.

"With that," said Russ, "we can take an object and transport it any
place we want. Not only that, we can pick up any object from an
indefinite distance and bring it to us."

"What a thing for a lazy burglar," Greg observed sourly.

Worn out, they gulped sandwiches and scalding coffee, tumbled into bed.

* * * * *

The outdoor camp meeting was in full swing. The evangelist was in his
top form. The sinners' bench was crowded. Then suddenly, as the
evangelist paused for a moment's silence before he drove home an
important point, the music came. Music from the air. Music from
somewhere in the sky. The soft, heavenly music of a hymn. As if an
angels' chorus were singing in the blue.

The evangelist froze, one arm pointing upward, with index finger ready
to sweep down and emphasize his point. The sinners kneeling at the bench
were petrified. The congregat