Okie scratched his head and addressed one of the two men at the bar. "What the hell you suppose they're doin', Sam? What's that gadget for?"
"Search me," replied Sam, a well dressed, stoop-shouldered gent, "but if you want my opinion it doesn't look legal."
"Hey, Nugget!" yelled the barkeep.
Again the little old prospector hustled himself over to the bar.
"Nugget McDermott at your service! What'll it be, Okie?"
"Go on over and get the sheriff. Tell him there's two queer characters here trying to jimmy one of my machines in broad daylight."
The old man's feet kicked up sawdust as he scampered out the door. Okie kept his attention riveted to the two aliens.
Toryl was busy adjusting the electro-analyzer to the best possible position.
"What if it does not respond to this machine?" Sartan wa