ile they're at the games. You wanna gamble there is plenty
of machines available. I got a respectable place, I wanna keep it that
way!" He turned and addressed the other men. "All right, boys, fun's
over! No fight today! Drink up and gamble your money away. Let's get
back to the games."

* * * * *

It was necessary for Toryl to use the crypterpreter to translate the
various signs along the bar. Okie saw the small cylindrical machine
sitting on the bar. His curiosity bested him. He gave it a more thorough
examination than a dog gives a fireplug.

Some of the signs read: "DOUBLE BOURBON--$2.10" "COOL GIN RICKEY--$1.25"
"IN GOD WE TRUST, BUT NOBODY ELSE!" "RUM COLLINS--$1" "A FRIEND IN NEED
IS A FRIEND INDEED" "NO INDIANS SERVED HERE" and "SCOTCH--IMPORTED,
$1.50--DOMESTIC, $1.30."

"Cool gin rick-ey," said Toryl.

"Comin' right up," Okie mumbled, his attention still wrapped around the
crypterpreter. "Say, what is this gadget anyway?"

"It is a cryp-terp-reter," Toryl beamed with pride. "It en-ables us to
un-der-stand and speak your lan-guage."

"Aw, go on!" Okie managed a fainthearted grin, uncertain of whether his
leg was being pulled. "Come on now, tell me what it is."

"But I have just told you, sir."

The barkeep cursed under his breath. "Two gin rickeys, did you say?"

"Yes."

Okie brought the drinks.

Sartan smiled broadly. "Thank you ex-ceed-ing-ly."

"That'll be two-fifty."

Toryl raised his glass as though making a toast. "Two-fif-ty!" he
repeated.

Okie caught his arm and brought the glass down.

"Two-fifty!" the barkeep said with grim insistence.

Sartan pursed his lips comprehendingly. He removed a large pentagonal
piece of metal from his pocket and gave it to Okie.

Okie took the piece between his fingers, examined it and frowned. "I
give up. What is it?"

Sartan had to glance at Toryl for an answer. Toryl threw a switch on the
crypterpreter.

"_Money_," Toryl silently advised him.

"Money," said Sartan to Okie.

"You guys hold on and don't drink up yet," growled the barkeep. He then
yelled in the direction of the blackjack table. "Hey, Nugget! Get on
over here, I need you!!"

A wiry little man with a full, unkempt beard, hustled over to the bar.
"Nugget McDermott at yer service, Okie! What's yer pleasure?" he asked
with a sunny smile.

"Take a look at this." Okie handed him the piece of metal.

The old prospector turned it over in his hands, bi