--on the button. McCarthy sat up and shook his head clear of bright
little lights and happy hums. He had connected, but--
So had the other guy!
He sat several feet from McCarthy, looking dazed and sad. "You are the
stubbornest cuss I ever saw! Where did you learn my punch?"
"_Your_ punch!" They rose, glowering at each other. "Listen, bub, that
there is my _own_ Sunday punch, copyrighted, patented and incorporated!
But this ain't gettin' us nowhere."
"No, it ain't. What do we do now? I don't care if I have to fight you
for the next million years, but I was paid to move that rock and I'm
goin' to move it."
McCarthy shifted the quid of tobacco. "Looky here. You've been paid
to move that rock by Professor Ruddle or Guggles or whatever he is by
now. If I go back and get a note from him saying you're not to move
that rock and you can keep the check anyways, will you promise to squat
still until I get back?"
The stranger chewed and spat, chewed and spat. McCarthy marveled at
their perfect synchronization. They both spat the same distance,
too. He wasn't such a bad guy, if only he wouldn't be so stubborn!
Strange--he was wearing a camera like the one old Ruddle had taken
from him.
"O.K. You go back and get the note. I'll wait here." The stranger
dropped to the ground and stretched out.
McCarthy turned and hurried back to the time machine before he could
change his mind.
* * * * *
He was pleased to notice as he stepped down into the laboratory again,
that the professor had rewon his gentle patch of white hair.
"Saaay, this is gettin' real complicated. How'd you make out with the
wife?"
"Wife? What wife?"
"The wife. The battle-axe. The ball and chain. The steady skirt,"
McCarthy clarified.
"I'm not married. I told you I considered it a barbarous custom
entirely unworthy of a truly civilized man. Now stop babbling and give
me that camera."
"But," McCarthy felt his way very carefully, "but, don't you remember
takin' the camera from me, Professor Ruddle?"
"Not Ruddle--Roodles, _Roodles_. _Oo_ as is Gooseface. And how could
I have taken the camera from you when you've just returned? You're
dithering, McCarney--I don't like ditherers. Stop it!"
McCarthy shook his head, forbearing to correct the mispronunciation
of his name. He began to feel a vague, gnawing wish that he had never
started this combination merry-go-round and slap-happy fun-house.
"Look, prof, sit down." He spread a great hand against the little man's
chest, forcing him into a chair. "We're gonna have another talk. I
gotta bring you up to date."
Fifteen minutes later, he was winding up. "So this character says he'll
wait until I get back with the note. If you want a wife, don't give
me the note and he'll move the rock. I don't care one way or t'other,
myself. I just want to get out of here!"
Professor Ruddle (Guggles? Roodles?) closed his eyes. "My," he gasped.
Then he shuddered. "Married. To that--battle-axe! That st-steady skirt!
_No!_ McCarney--or McCarthy--listen! You must go back. I'll give you a
note--another check--here!" He tore a page from his notebook, filled it
rapidly with desperate words. Then he made out another check.
McCarthy glanced at the slips. "'Nother bank," he remarked wonderingly.
"This time The Southern Peanut Trust Company. I hope all these
different checks are gonna be good."
"Certainly," the professor assured him loudly. "They will all be good.
You go ahead and take care of this matter, and we'll settle it to
everybody's satisfaction when you return. You tell this other McCarney
that--"
"McCarthy. _Hey!_ What do you mean--'this other McCarney?' I'm the
only McCarthy--only _Gooseneck_ McCarthy, anyway. If you send a dozen
different guys out to do the same job...."
"I didn't send anyone but you. Don't you understand what happened?
You went back into the Cretaceous to move a rock. You returned to
the present--and, as you say, found me in somewhat unfortunate
circumstances. You returned to the past to undo the damage, to
_approximately_ the same spot in space and time as before--it could
not be exactly the same spot because of a multitude of unknown factors
and because of the inescapable errors in the first time machine. Very
well. You--we'll call you You I--meet You II at the very moment You
II is preparing to move the rock. You stop him. If you hadn't, if he
hadn't been interrupted in any way and had shifted that stone, he would
have been You I. But because he--or rather you--didn't, he is slightly
different from you, being a You who has merely made one trip into the
past and not even moved the rock. Whereas you--You I--have made two
trips, have both moved the rock yourself and prevented yourself from
moving it. It's really very simple, isn't it?"
McCarthy stroked his chin and sucked in a great gasp of air. "Yeah," he
mumbled wildly. "Simple ain't the word for it!"
The professor hopped into the machine and began preparing it for
another trip. "Now as to what happened to me. Once you--You I
again--prevented You II from moving that rock, you immediately
precipitated--not so much a change as a--an _unchange_ in my personal
situation. The rock had not been shifted--therefore, I had not been
married, was not married, and, let us hope, will never be married. I
was also no longer bald. But, by the very fact of the presence of the
two You's in the past, by virtue of some microscopic form of life
you killed with your breath, let us say, or some sand you impressed
with your feet,--sufficient alterations were made right through to the
present so that my name was (and always had been!) Roodles and your
name--"
"Is probably MacTavish by now," McCarthy yelled. "Look prof, are you
through with the machine?"
"Yes, it's all ready." The professor grimaced thoughtfully. "The only
thing I can't place is what happened to that camera you said I took
from you. Now if You I in the personification of You II--"
McCarthy planted his right foot in the small of the little man's back
and shoved. "I'm gonna get this thing settled and come back and never,
never, _never_ go near one of these dinguses again!"
He yanked at the chronotransit. The last he saw of the professor was a
confused picture of broken glassware, tangled electrical equipment and
indignantly waving white hair.
* * * * *
This time he materialized at the very edge of the beach. "Gettin'
closer all the time," he mumbled as he stepped out of the housing. Now
to hand over the note, then--