"Then spill it, man, spill it-you mean they can do it?"
Oscar swore softly in Venerian. "They can do anything!"
"Back off and try again," advised Tex. "They can't play a harmonica. I know; I let one try. Now tell us."
"I started in by showing her the ethyl alcohol and tried to explain that we still had a problem and asked her if her people could make the stuff. She seemed to think it was a silly question-just sniffed it and said they could. Then I positively strained myself trying to act out liquid oxygen, first telling her that there were two different things in air, one inert and one active. The -best I could do was to use their words for living' and 'dead.' I told her I wanted the living part to be like water. She cut me off and sent for one of her people. They talked back and forth for several minutes and I swear I could understand only every second or third word and could not even get the gist of it. It was a part of their language totally new to me. Then the other old girl leaves the room.
"We waited. She asked me if we would be leaving soon if we got what we wanted. I said, yes if- then she asked me to do her the favor of taking Burke along; she was apologetic about it but firm. I said we would."
"I'm glad of that," said Matt. "I despise Stinky's insides, but it sticks in my craw to leave him to die here. He ought to have a trial."
"Keep quiet, Matt," said Tex. "Who cares about Stinky? Go on, Oscar."
"After quite a wait, the other old girl came back, with a bladder-just an ordinary bladder by the appearance, but darker than a drinking bladder. Her nibs hands it to me
and asks me if this is what I wanted. I said sorry but I did not want water. She squeezed a few drops out on my hand." Oscar held out his hand. "See that? It burned me."
"It actually was liquid oxygen?"