"That's the theory. Most people are glad to get anything back. It's honest enough, but the odds are terrific." A couple of spacers made room for us, and I watched Meadows play for a few minutes. The operator grinned when he saw me watching. He had a lean, pale face and had been an astrogator until his heart left him in need of Martian gravity. "No coaching, Tony!" he kidded me. "Stop making me look like a partner in the place!" I answered. "Thought one night you were going to be.... No winners, gentlemen. Next bets!" * * * * * The spheres had come to rest with Pluto near one end of a lavender spiral and Mercury touching the inner end, but no one had had the insanity to bet that way. Meadows began to play inner planet combinations that occasionally paid, though at short odds. He made a bit on some near misses, and I decided to have a drink while he lost it. I found Howlet, Konnel, and Lilac Malone in the bar admiring the red-bronze landscape. When he heard about Meadows, Howlet smiled. "If it isn't fixed, they better prepare to abandon," he laughed. "People look at that face and won't believe he always collects half the ship's pay." Lilac saw a chance to do her duty, and suggested that we all go in to support Meadows. I stayed with my drink until Jorgensen drifted in to have a couple with me and talk of the old days. After a while, one of his helpers came up and murmured something into his big red ear. He shrugged and waved his hand. The next time it happened, about twenty minutes later, I was on the point of matching him with a story about a petrified ancient Martian that the domers at Schiaparelli dug out of a dry canal. Jorgensen lowered his faded eyebrows and strode off like a bear on egg-shells, leaving me there with the unspoken punch line about what they were supposed to have dug up with the Martian. _Well, that build-up was wasted_, I thought. * * * * * Quite a number of sandeaters, as time passed, seemed to drift in and out of the back room. Finally, Howlet showed up again. "How'd you make out?" I asked when he had a drink in his hand. "I left my usual deposit," he grinned, "but you ought to see Meadows! Is he ever plugging their pipes! He ran Mercury to Pluto, and it paid off big." "It ought to; no one ever makes it." "He did it _twice_! Plus other combinations. With him making out our daily menus, I'll never know why I'm not lucky too. Know what he's doing?" I lifted an eyebrow. "He's lending money to every loafer that puts the beam on him. But the guy has to show a non-transferrable ticket for passage to Earth." "Darn few can," I grunted. "That's why he keeps sending them out with the price of one and the promise to stake them when they get back. I never saw such expressions!"