Rick thought that over. It seemed reasonable. He asked, "Is it okay to ask what you do?" "Sure it's okay. We're radar operators. We track the rockets on a radar set from a field station." Big Mac pulled a red-checkered handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose violently. "Good operators are scarce. That's why no one bothers us, so long as we're on the job when we're needed." [Illustration: no caption - spread over two pages] Scotty leaned over and picked up something that had dropped to the floor when Mac pulled out his handkerchief. "You dropped this, Mr. McCline." Rick identified it easily. It was a tiny transistor, an integral part of modern electronic apparatus. Mac took it in his big fingers. "Thanks. I must have stuck it in my pocket absent-mindedly while we were repairing the equipment." "Where do you go when you're on a field radar job?" Rick asked. "Just tell me to mind my own business, if I get into anything classified." "There's no classification on what we do," Pancho Kelly said. "Only the results. We go to Careless Mesa. Everyone knows that." The boys let the conversation lag and ordered dinner. They didn't want to seem too inquisitive. Constant questions would only make Mac and Pancho suspicious. Later, as they rode through the star-studded night in their jeep, Scotty suddenly asked, "What do you think of Big Mac and Pancho?" Rick shrugged. He knew what had prompted Scotty's question. He had the same feeling himself. "They're friendly enough, but I think it's an act. What I mean, is ..." "That they haven't any real interest in being friendly, they're just cordial for the sake of appearances," Scotty concluded. "On the nose, pal. I get the feeling they could switch from casual conversation to mayhem without batting an eye." Scotty thought it over for a moment. "Mac's the driving force of the pair, but I'd say they're equally tough. I'd guess Pancho is a combination of Irish and Mexican, both from his looks and his name." "Is Pancho a name? Or a nickname?" "Nickname. Usually short for Francisco." Rick thought back over the past few days, and their meetings with Big Mac and Pancho. "Funny thing, Scotty. The casino is usually pretty busy, and mostly with men from Scarlet Lake. But instead of getting acquainted with many of them we always seem to sit near those two." Scotty gave him a sideways glance. "What about it?" "I think we do it instinctively," Rick went on. "Every time we walk in, they're deep in conversation. There's a kind of atmosphere about them, as though the talk is always very secret. None of the other men seem like that. They're more--well, open. No secrets. Know what I mean?" Scotty nodded. "Now that you point it out, I do." "So I think we sort of gravitate toward them automatically. On a hunch that we haven't even recognized, so to speak." "Because there's more to be learned from them than from the others?"