layers buy into the pot. Each player takes a lever; the object is to
make the ball drop from the top of the tower into your net. Okay?"

"What's the ante?"

"I got a hundred-credit pot workin' now, gents."

Retief nodded. "We'll try it."

The shill led the way to an eight-foot tower mounted on gimbals. Two
perspiring men in trade-class pullovers gripped two of the levers that
controlled the tilt of the tower. A white ball lay in a hollow in the
thick glass platform at the top. From the center, an intricate pattern
of grooves led out to the edge of the glass. Retief and Magnan took
chairs before the two free levers.

"When the light goes on, gents, work the lever to jack the tower. You
got three gears. Takes a good arm to work top gear. That's this button
here. The little knob controls what way you're goin'. May the best team
win. I'll take the hundred credits now."

* * * * *

Retief handed over the money. A red light flashed on, and Retief tried
the lever.

It moved easily, with a ratcheting sound. The tower trembled, slowly
tilted toward the two perspiring workmen pumping frantically at their
levers. Magnan started slowly, accelerated as he saw the direction the
tower was taking.

"Faster, Retief," he said. "They're winning."

"This is against the clock, gents," the bullet-headed man said. "If
nobody wins when the light goes off, the house takes all."

"Crank it over to the left," Retief said.

"I'm getting tired."

"Shift to a lower gear."

The tower leaned. The ball stirred, rolled into a concentric channel.
Retief shifted to middle gear, worked the lever. The tower creaked to a
stop, started back upright.

"There isn't any lower gear," Magnan gasped. One of the two on the other
side of the tower shifted to middle gear; the other followed suit. They
worked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower quivered,
moved slowly toward their side.

"I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in the
chair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever with
his left hand.

"Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched the
button and slumped back, panting.

"My arm," he said. "I've injured myself."

The two men in pullovers conferred hurriedly as they cranked their
levers; then one punched a button and the other reached across, using
his left arm to help.

"They've shifted to high," Magnan said. "Give up, i