lost the game grimaced with pain.

A needle on the machine's single dial moved all the way to the right, then quickly returned to its original position.

An expression of joy spread the victor's thin lips into a wide smile.

A few seconds later, the electrodes were removed from their heads.

Tharp grunted his bafflement.

"Duchal," Farrell explained quickly, "means an expression of sorrow or pain. By means of that machine, the winner was able to receive in his brain the sensation of the loser's physical and mental agony at losing the game."

"That's what they were betting?" Tharp asked unbelievingly.

"Yes. It's the same principle as humans who play games merely for the disappointed expression on the loser's face. The Martians do it a little differently: they have a machine that transmits the loser's pain into the victor's brain. The Martians are constructed in such a way that the agony of another person, implanted in their minds, is very pleasant to them."

"They must be crazy!"

Farrell shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Anyway, you have a choice. You can bet the thousand dollars or a certain amount of duchal."

"If we bet duchal and lost, we'd only have to pay the Martians a little ... sensation of agony at losing the game?"

"Right."

Tharp laughed. "Hell, let's bet duchal. That'd be better than losing a thousand bucks if we should lose the game." He slipped his hand into a pocket and the cloth bulged in Farrell's direction. "And we'd better win!"

What's the difference? Farrell thought. If we win or lose, you'll kill me. You can't leave me alive to report you to the police!

"You can play the game," Farrell suggested. "I'll tell you what buttons to push."

"Okay. Tell the Martians we want to bet an amount of duchal worth five thousand. How much would that be on the dial on that 

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