Farrell nodded his head affirmatively.
The Martian smiled weakly and inquired in broken English, "Vhot is vager? Monee or duchal?"
"What in hell is duchal?" Tharp asked.
"It's hard to explain," Farrell confessed. "But, we'll have to wait until those Marties are through and you'll see what duchal is when they finish."
Farrell squatted on the cold floor.
Tharp sat two yards to one side.
Silently they watched the Martian gamblers.
Several minutes later the emaciated aliens rose from their positions behind the small control boards.
"Is the game over?" Tharp asked.
"Yes. See the Martian with the green tunic? He's the one who lost the game. The winner will receive a certain measure of duchal from him."