trembled as he examined it. Along its length were etched a row of queer symbols. Probably directions for its operation or servicing, he decided. He aimed the knob at some rocks a few yards away and pressed the button. But they didn't explode or disintegrate under a lethal "ray." Then discovering that a narrow center section of the cylinder revolved by slow, even degrees, he tried again impatiently.

A loud clatter made him look up, gaping. A cluster of rocks hung motionless in the air. When his finger lifted, they fell to earth. The mechanism neutralized gravitational pull—objects could float!

Breathing excitedly, Clark twisted the center section further. The stones shot up into the sky and disappeared. Quickly he adjusted the mechanism's control and brought them flashing back. He stared at the cylinder in unbelieving awe. Power men dreamed of surged inside it like an eager magic genie.

He experimented carefully, floating the rocks at different angles and then hurtling them skyward. When he cut off the strange power, they crashed heavily to the ground. The possibilities were tremendous! And aside from the natural hazards of collision, how could it imperil mankind? Then as a thin cloud of dust billowed up from the fallen rocks, a vision of its war potential burst upon him. Clumsy, costly rockets with a single payload were obsolete. Atomic bombs could be showered almost instantly on an enemy.

I know you won't abuse this power!

Clark recalled Baldy's hopeful, trusting words and grinned. No, he wouldn't abuse it. He realized the aliens had not understated its deadliness. No matter how the military pressed him, he wouldn't permit its use for mass bombings in the coming war. Not unless the enemy really threatened to overrun the world...

He left the clearing and headed down the canyon.

When Clark reached the mouth of the canyon, he frowned. Out on a green meadow a farmer drove a tractor, busily plowing deep furrows for a new crop. A trim ranch house in the distance gleamed in the morning sunlight. Funny. Earlier, when he had crossed the field, he hadn't noticed a sign of civilization. But it had been nearly dark then.

He strolled casually down to a rude stone wall and watched the tractor churn toward him. The farmer waved. He jolted to a halt, cut the engine and wiped a red bandana over his wrinkled, sweating face. Clark glanced down at his own shabby clothes and rubbed a rough, bristly chin. If he looked like a bum, his brief demonstration would seem all the more amazing.

"Pretty hot work, eh?" Clark greeted him.

"Yep," the old farmer nodded as he drank from a canteen. Clark grinned. History would record this man as the first person to actually witness a degravitator at work. Clark studied the unplowed side of the meadow, then pointed at a large, half-buried boulder.

"You have a little work there, mister. I think a Clark Farm Helper will do the trick."

The farmer gave him a puzzled look. Clark calmly beamed the rock. At first it strained up and down, but finally wrenched free. He floated it up in a slow arc, then deliberately dropped it with a heavy thud. Clark chuckled as the farmer tried to hide his astonishment with a poker face.

"That for sale?" he asked shrewdly.

Clark laughed heartily. "Not this one. I'll make a fortune manufacturing these little babies!"

"How do you figure that?"

Clark frowned at the farmer's indifference. "Can't you see its possibilities? I just showed you!"

"That's no good for farm work," the farmer said, reaching under his tractor seat. He raised what resembled a snub-nosed automatic. "This here's a real beauty. Had this general purpose degrav for two years and no trouble yet."

He squeezed the trigger and the boulder skimmed across the field.

"That looks like an old Harley single-drive you got there," the farmer said. "What'dya do? Recondition it and pep up the atomic pile?"

Stunned, Clark swallowed hard. The old farmer leaned over