sition, his sling tight on his
arm, the rifle extended.

"Yeah," he said. "But maybe we won't lose it--not just yet."

He rolled, forcing his elbow further under the rifle.

"Look, Pete, I think I'll wait till these guys are ready for the last
act, but you better go ahead and take cover. They've committed
themselves now. I'll duck later, if I have to, but I've got an idea
that just might work out."

He laid his cheek against the stock, concentrating on his sights. The
barrel moved up and down with his breathing, then stopped.

Pete examined him curiously, then looked out of his port.

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