quickly," Magnan
said, hopefully.

Suddenly, a brilliant white light flooded the glass cage. A sound went
up from the spectators.

"Quick, drop a chip," someone called.

"You've only got ten seconds...."

"Let go!" Magnan yelped.

Retief sat silent, holding the grip, frowning up at the weight. The
globe twirled faster now. Then the bright white light winked off.

"A bluff!" Magnan gasped.

"That's risky, stranger," the gray-templed man said.

The globe was turning rapidly now, oscillating from side to side. The
hole seemed to travel in a wavering loop, dipping lower, swinging up
high, then down again.

"It has to move to the bottom soon," Magnan said. "Slow it down."

"The slower it goes, the longer it takes to get to the bottom," someone
said.

There was a crackle and Retief stiffened. Magnan heard a sharp intake of
breath. The globe slowed, and Retief shook his head, blinking.

The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter.

"You took pretty near a full jolt, that time," he said.

The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to the
center, then below.

"A little longer," Magnan said.

"That's the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball," someone said. "How
much longer can he hold it?"

Magnan looked at Retief's knuckles. They showed white against the grip.
The globe tilted farther, swung around, then down; two chips fell out,
clattered down a chute and into a box.

"We're ahead," Magnan said. "Let's quit."

Retief shook his head. The globe rotated, dipped again; three chips
fell.

"She's ready," someone called.

"It's bound to hit soon," another voice added excitedly. "Come on,
Mister!"

"Slow down," Magnan said. "So it won't move past too quickly."

"Speed it up, before that lead block gets you," someone called.

The hole swung high, over the top, then down the side. Chips rained out
of the hole, six, eight....

"Next pass," a voice called.

The white light flooded the cage. The globe whirled; the hole slid over
the top, down, down.... A chip fell, two more....

Retief half rose, clamped his jaw and crushed the grip. Sparks flew. The
globe slowed, chips spewing. It stopped, swung back, weighted by the
mass of chips at the bottom, and stopped again with the hole centered.

[Illustration]

Chips cascaded down the chute, filled the box before Retief, spilled on
the floor. The crowd yelled.

Retief released the grip and withdrew his arm at the same instant that