The driver slowed down when he saw the aliens. "Howdy, strangers!" he yelled cheerily. "Say, ain't you fellers a mite warm in them coveralls?" He cackled merrily, put his foot to the floor and sped on by. Sartan looked at his companion. "_I am sorry, I should not have doubted you, Brother. You were right. These people will welcome our visit. They seem very cordial._" "_Good, Sartan. Let us continue._" One hundred yards further they were confronted by still another brace of signs. They stopped once more. CITY LIMITS (Gambling allowed) JUBILATION! WHERE TROUBLES never come due, 'cause the Good Lord takes a likin' to YOU! Where gloom and doom are outlawed and there's never any sadness. Where a smile lights up the midnight sky and gives off only gladness! (Gambling allowed) The second sign was another in the shape of a horseshoe. BEYOND THIS POINT YOU HAVE 4372 FRIENDS YOU NEVER HAD BEFORE!!! (Gambling allowed) Suddenly Toryl stopped and played with several switches and dials on the crypterpreter. "_What is wrong, Brother?_" asked the puzzled Sartan. "_I receive no direct translation for the term 'gambling'._" "_What is the closest term the machine gives?_" "_Fraternizing._" Sartan laughed. "_Now it is you who fret, Toryl. According to the signpost legends 'fraternizing' would seem to be accurate._" * * * * * 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.