* * * * *
Harvey turned a knob on the face of the scarred radio. After several
squeals of spatial figures, a smooth voice began:
"There are omnious pleajes of moby-hailegs in sonmirand which,
howgraismon, are notch to be donfured miss ellasellabell in either or
both hagasanipaj, by all means. This does not refly, on the brother
man, nat or mizzafil saces are denuded by this ossifaligo...."
Harvey switched off the set determinedly.
"Wait a minute!" Johnson begged. "I almost got it then!"
"I dislike being commercial," said Harvey, "but this astounding device
still belongs to us. Would we not be foolish to let you discover the
clue before purchasing the right to do so?"
The mayor nodded indecisively, looking at the radio with agonized
longing. "How much do you want?" he asked unhappily.
"One thousand buckos, and no haggling. I am not in the mood."
Johnson opened his mouth to argue; then, seeing Harvey's set features,
paid with the worst possible grace.
"Don't you think we ought to tell him about the batteries, Harv?" Joe
asked.
"What about the batteries?" demanded Johnson with deadly calm.
"A very small matter," Harvey said airily. "You see, we have been
analyzing these broadcasts for three years. In that time, of course,
the batteries are bound to weaken. I estimate these should last not
less than one Terrestrial month, at the very least."
"What do I do then?"
Harvey shrugged. "Special batteries are required, which I see Joseph
has by chance brought along. For the batteries, the only ones of their
kind left in the system, I ask only what they cost--one hundred and
ninety-nine buckos, no more and, on the other hand, no less."
Johnson was breathing hard, and his hand hovered dangerously near his
gun. But he paid the amount Harvey wanted.
Moreover, he actually shook hands when the two panacea purveyors
collected their six-armed prize and said goodbye. Before they were
outside, however, he had turned on the radio and was listening tensely
to a woman's highly cultured, though rather angry voice, saying:
"Oh, you hannaforge are all beasa-taga-sanimort. If you rue amount it,
how do you respench a pure woman to ansver go-samak--"
"I'll get it!" they heard Johnson mutter.
Then the sound of giant feet crossing the barroom floor reached their
ears, and a shrill question: "What's that, Papa?"
"A fortune, Jed! Those fakers are damned fools, selling us a thing
like--"
Joe gazed at Harvey admiringly. "Another one sold? Harv, that spiel
pulls them in like an ether storm!"
Together with the remarkable planetoid man, they reached the ship.
Above them, dark, tumbling shapes blotted out the stars and silently
moved on. Joe opened the gangway door.
"Come on in, pal," he said to Genius. "We're shoving off."
The planetoid man grinned foolishly. "Can't go arong with you," he said
with an apologetic manner. "I rike to, but pressure fratten me out if I
go."
"What in solar blazes are you talking about?" Harvey asked.
"I grow up on pranetoid," Genius explained. "On big pranet, too much
pressure for me."
The two salesmen looked narrowly at each other.
"Did Johnson know that when he sold you?" Joe snarled.
"Oh, sure." The silly grin became wider than ever. "Peopre from Earth
buy me rots of times. I never reave pranetoid, though."
"Joseph," Harvey said ominously, "that slick colonist has put one over
upon us. What is our customary procedure in that event?"
"We tear him apart," Joe replied between his teeth.
"Not Mister Johnson," advised Genius. "Have gun and badge. He shoot you
first and then rock you up in prison."
Harvey paused, his ominous air vanishing. "True. There is also the
fact, Joseph, that when he discovers the scrambled rectifier in
the radio we sold him, he will have been paid back in full for his
regrettable dishonesty."
* * * * *
Unwillingly, Joe agreed. While Genius retreated to a safe distance,
they entered the ship and blasted off. Within a few minutes the
automatic steering pilot had maneuvered them above the plane of the
asteroid belt.
"I got kind of dizzy," Joe said, "there were so many deals back and
forth. How much did we make on the sucker?"
"A goodly amount, I wager," Harvey responded. He took out a pencil and
paper. "Medicine, 469.50; radio, 1,000; batteries, 199. Total--let's
see--1668 buckos and 50 redsents. A goodly sum, as I told you."
He emptied his pockets of money, spread it out on the astrogation table
and began counting. Finished, he looked up, troubled.
"How much did we have when we landed, Joseph?"
"Exactly 1668 buckos," Joe answered promptly.
"I can't understand it," said Harvey. "Instead of double our capital,
we now have only 1668 buckos and 50 redsents!"
Feverishly, he returned to his pencil and paper.
"Drinking water, 790; battery water, free; meal, 328; planetoid man,
550. Total: 1668 buckos!" He stared at the figures. "We paid out almost
as much as we took in," he said bitterly. "Despite our intensive
efforts, we made the absurd sum of fifty redsents."
"Why, the dirty crook!" Joe growled.
But after a few moments of sad reflection, Harvey became philosophical.
"Perhaps, Joseph, we are more fortunate than we realize. We were,
after all, completely in Johnson's power. The more I ponder, the more
I believe we were lucky to escape. And, anyhow, we did make fifty
redsents on the swindler. A moral victory, my boy."
Joe, who had been sunk desparingly into a chair, now stood up slowly
and asked: "Remember that bottle-opener we gave him?"
"Certainly," Harvey explained. "What about it?"
"How much did it cost us?"
Harvey's eyebrows puckered. Suddenly he started laughing. "You're
right, Joseph. We paid forty-six redsents for it on Venus. So, after
all that transacting of business, we made four redsents!"
"Four redsents, hell!" Joe snapped. "That was the sales tax!"
He glared; then a smile lifted his mouth. "You remember those yokels on
Mars' Flatlands, and the way they worshipped gold?"
"_Goldbricks!_" Harvey said succinctly.
Grinning, Joe set the robot-controls for Mars.