“That’s what everyone says,” said Rila. “We’ll have to prove it. We’ll have to go back into the past, into the kind of past that no one’s ever seen, and bring back movies of it. There’s one thing we didn’t tell you, Ben. Asa and I are going back to the time of the dinosaurs, and we want you to go with us.”
“Me? You want me to go back with you? Back to the dinosaurs?”
I got up from the table and went into the living room where we’d stashed the stuff that Rila had brought on the plane. I came back with one of the two guns and laid it on the table in front of Ben.
“You know what that is?” I asked him.
He picked it up, hoisting it, weighing it. He swung around in his chair, pointed the rifle at a kitchen window and broke the breech. He squinted through the barrels.
“An elephant gun,” be said. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one. Double-barreled. Would you take a look at that bore! With a thing like that, you could knock an elephant off its feet.”
He looked at me inquiringly. “Would it do the same to a dinosaur? One of the big ones?”
“No one knows,” I said. “A well-placed shot should stop one. Knocking it over, I don’t know. We have two of those rifles. When Rila and I go into dinosaur country, I’ll carry one of them. She’ll be loaded down with camera equipment. We are hoping you will carry the other gun. Back there, we won’t know what to expect, but, in any case, two guns will be better than one.”
Ben drew in his breath. “Dinosaurs!” he said.
“You’re offering me a chance to go along? With a gun like this?”
“You have it turned around,” said Rila. “We aren’t offering you a chance to go. We’re begging you to go.”
“You don’t have to beg,” said Ben. “You’d have to lay me out to stop me. Africa — I always wanted to go to Africa. This will be better than Africa.”
“It could be dangerous. Maybe not. As Asa says, there’s no way to know.”
“But you’re going?”
Rila said smugly, “I’ll have to run the camera.”
“Movies, yet,” he yelled. “My God, the film boys would kill one another to get hold of that footage. A million bucks. Five million bucks. You could name your price.”
“We’ll take that up later on,” said Rila. “Maybe the movie people would like to do their own shooting. A professional job of film making.”
“And you’d sell them the rights,” said Ben. “At a handsome figure.”
“We’ll not make it cheap,” said Rila.
“And me,” said Ben, “getting all excited about a little two-by-four motel. Although, it will take a chunk of capital to get this venture on its feet. How are you fixed? Any chance of buying in? Not a big slice of the action. Only a small percentage.”
“We can talk about that later,” said Rila. “First, let’s see what kind of proof we can get when we go back to find the dinosaurs. If we don’t get proof, then all bets are off. There’s no future in it.”
“How far back are you going?”
“We’ll have to take a closer look at the possibilities,” I said. “Seventy million years at least. Perhaps a good bit farther.”
“We’re glad you’re willing to go with us,” Rila said.
“We need a man who can handle a gun. Someone who has done some hunting, who can rough it and who knows what to watch out for.”
Ben looked at me. “You ever fire one of these things?”
I shook my head.
“If you don’t handle it right,” he said, “this gun could take your head off. The kick must be terrific.
We’ll have to practice before we go.”
“There’s no place here we can try them out,” I said. “Too heavily populated. We couldn’t take the chance. The report would be too loud, and people would begin asking questions. We can’t have that. For a while, we’ll have to keep this under cover.”
“You have cartridges?”
“A few. Probably enough.”
“And you figure one of them could stop a dinosaur?”
“It would depend on how big a dinosaur. Some of them are so big, it would take a cannon. But we don’t have to worry about them if we keep out of their way. They’ll give us no trouble. The ones we worry about are the meat-eaters.”
Ben squinted through the barrels again. “In good shape,” he said. “A little haze, probably dust. No sign of rust. Do no harm to run an oiled rag through the barrels. Ought to break them down and oil them before we use them. In a place like that, you’d want a smooth-working gun.”
He slapped the barrels with an open hand. “Good steel,” he said. “Never saw anything like it in my life. Must have set you back a pile.”
Rila said, “I got them from the safari people at a bargain. They want to do business with us if we have anything. That is, once they are convinced we have something they can use.”
“There is one thing about this trip that I want to emphasize,” I said. “It is not a hunting trip. We’re not going out to bag a dinosaur. Our job is to get enough good film to convince the safari people and Rila’s lawyer friend. We don’t start any trouble. The two of us simply stand by in case trouble comes to us. I want you to understand that, Ben.”
“Oh, sure, I understand that,” he said. “Later on, perhaps…”
“Once things have settled down,” I promised, “we’ll fix it up for you to do some hunting.”
“That’s fair enough,” he said. “But once we get where we are going, we’ll have to try out these guns.
To see how they shoot, how we can handle them. I’d like to know what to expect of such a piece before having to fire in earnest.”
“We’ll do that,” said Rila. “We can’t fire them here.”
He laid the gun back on the table. “What kind of schedule have you got?” he asked.
“Soon as we can,” said Rila. “In a day or two.”
“This trip is just one phase of it,” he said. “The beginning, really. There are other things you have to think about. Once this deal goes public, we’ll have people crowding in. You’ll have to set up some sort of security. You can’t have people clogging up the place and falling into time roads or whatever you may call them. You have to buy yourself some elbow room.”
“We plan to build a fence all around the forty,” Rila replied. “High as we can manage. Floodlighted at night and with guards patrolling around the clock.”
Ben whistled. “That will take some money. Enclosing forty acres takes a lot of fence.”
“And we’ll need an administration building,” said Rila, “and a staff to man it. Probably only a few to start with.”
“Tell you what,” said Ben. “Why don’t you let me set up a credit line for you down at the bank? Fifty thousand to start with, increasing if you need it. You borrow only what you need, as you need it. You write the checks and we’ll honor them.”
“Ben,” I told him, “that’s damn generous of you.
Where’s the flint-hearted banker?”
“Well, what I mean,” he said, “is that we’ll do it if this trip turns out all right. Naturally, I’d want to know what you have.”
“You still have some reservations?”
“Not really reservations. When I walk out of here and go back to the car, I’ll be wondering what I’ve let myself in for. I’ll spend the night telling myself that I am a fool to listen to you, that it’s impossible to travel into time. But sitting here, lapping up your booze and listening to you, I have no reservations. My hands itch to have a part in it. If it were anyone but you, Asa, I wouldn’t believe a word. I remember how it was when we were boys. I was one of the gang, sure, but I was the banker’s son, and a lot of the other fellows resented it. They thought my folks were better off than their folks and we really weren’t, but they thought so. They never passed up a chance to shaft me. Nobody loves a small-town banker — well, ‘I guess no one loves any kind of banker, and let us face it, my old man didn’t have a record that inspired much confidence, and I suppose the same applies to me. But the point is you never shafted me, you never went along with the shafting. There were times you even fought for me. You accepted me just like anybody else.”