Jubilation, U.S.A. | Page 3

* *
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, bit it and then held it in
his palm as though to judge its weight. His expert opinion was, "It's
gold, Okie," and was uttered without a shred of modesty.

"Are you sure?"
The old-timer was highly insulted. "Am I sure!! Why you lop-eared,
sun-stroked jackass, of course I'm sure!!! Nugget McDermott is drawed
to gold like nails to a magnet! Why when this here town was nothin' but
a patch of cactus--"
"All right, all right," Okie waved him off, "don't get your gander up!
Go on back to the blackjack table and tell Sam to give you a drink on
the house."
"Much obliged, Okie, much obliged," said Nugget, doffing his hat and
trotting back to the blackjack table.
The barkeep's face was pure sunshine when he turned to the aliens
again. "Gentlemen, with this kind of a substitute you don't need money
in my place. Drink up!"
"Thank you ex-ceed-ing-ly," said Sartan.
Okie arbitrarily judged the gold piece to be worth ten dollars. "The
management invites you to try your luck, gentlemen. Go on give it a
whirl."
Toryl and Sartan wore blank expressions as Okie slapped seven dollars
and fifty cents change on the bar--four silver dollars, four half-dollars
and six quarters.
"Don't be bashful, gentlemen. Okie's machines are friendly to one and
all," said the barkeep.
* * * * *
Toryl removed the change and gave his companion two silver dollars,
two half-dollars and three quarters.
"What is the purpose of the machines?" thought Sartan as they
approached the one-armed bandits.

"I suppose that is what the one called Okie wishes us to learn."
"Perhaps it is some type of registration machine."
"It is doubtful. The gentleman you disturbed has been at the same
machine since we arrived."
Sartan gripped the handle of a vacant machine. "Do you think it might
be a kind of intelligence test?"
In lieu of an answer Toryl focused his attention on a small card, above
the machine, which gave the winning combinations.
"There is that term again."
"What term?"
"Gambling." Toryl pointed to a line on the card warning minors not to
gamble. A look of perplexity fell upon his face. "I am no longer sure
the term has anything to do with fraternizing," he observed mentally.
"Let us find out."
Sartan placed a quarter in the coin slot. The three little wheels went
spinning. Cherry. Lemon. Lemon.
Nothing.
Toryl and Sartan looked at each other, their faces blanker than ever.
"Try it again."
Sartan disposed of another quarter. They waited. Lemon. Plum. Plum.
Nothing.
Toryl inspected the machine from every angle, like a man on the
outside trying to figure a way in. "Let me try it."

He put a