*

A steady rolling sound of passionless one-armed bandits drowned out all
other noise in Okie's Oasis Bar. As a result, Toryl and Sartan drew
little attention when they entered. Except for their blue-metallic space
suits they looked like and _were_ ordinary humans.

They proceeded rather timidly toward the bar. Okie, the proprietor, was
on duty readying the place for the night shift. Toryl held up his hand.
The crypterpreter had already informed him that oral conversation was
the manner of communication on the strange planet. Such conversation had
long ago been abandoned on the planet Capella, but learned men such as
Toryl and Sartan were familiar with how it was done, though when they
spoke they sometimes had to halt between syllables.

"How-dy!" Toryl flashed a wide grin at the barkeep.

"Just hold your horses there, mister!" was Okie's sharp reply. "You
ain't the only snake in this desert. There's four customers ahead of
you!"

Sartan transmitted an admonishing thought to his companion. "_Toryl, you
should have noticed that the man was busy. He has only two hands._"

"_Forgive me, Brother, I was blinded by my own excitement._"

The two Capellans waited and were soon attracted by the silver-handled
machines that seemed to have most of the customers fascinated.

Sartan wandered over to where a small crowd of men was gathered around a
single machine. A huge man, raw-boned and crimson-faced, wearing surplus
army suntans, was operating the machine.

The big man dropped a large coin into a slot. He gave the silver handle
a vicious snap. It made a discordant, bone-crushing sound. Three little
wheels, visible under glass, spun dizzily. Anxious, screwed-up faces
looked on as the first little wheel stopped. _Bell Fruit._

A collective gasp came from the small crowd. The second little wheel
stopped. _Bell Fruit._

Another gasp.

Sartan touched the arm of the man operating the gambling device. "I beg
your pardon, but could you please tell me--"

The big man wheeled around like a bear aroused from hibernation. "Hands
off, mister! You trying to jinx me?"

The third little wheel stopped. _Lemon._

The crowd groaned. The big man turned on Sartan again, a wild and
furious look in his eye. "You jinxed me! Damn you, I oughta' bust you
one right in the snout!!"

"My humble apol-o-gies, sir," the bewildered Sartan began.

"I'll give you your humble apologies right back with my fist," roared
the gambler.

To