Rough Translation

By JEAN M. JANIS

Illustrated by Hunter

hurgub," said thetape recorder. "Just likeI told you before, Dr.Blair, it's krandoor, so don't expectto vrillipax, because theyjust won't stand for any. They'dsooner framish."

"Framish?" Jonathan heard hisown voice played back by therecorder, tinny and slightly nasal."What is that, Mr. Easton?"

"You know. Like when youguttip. Carooms get awfully bevvergrit.Why, I saw one actually—"

"Let's go back a little, shallwe?" Jonathan suggested. "Whatdoes shurgub mean?"

There was a pause while themachine hummed and the recordertape whirred. Jonathanremembered the look on Easton'sface when he had asked him that.Easton had pulled away slightly,mouth open, eyes hurt.

"Why—why, I told you!" hehad shouted. "Weeks ago! What'sthe matter? Don't you blikkelEnglish?"

Jonathan Blair reached outand snapped the switch on themachine. Putting his head in hishands, he stared down at the topof his desk.

You learned Navajo in sixmonths, he reminded himselffiercely.

You are a highly skilledlinguist. What's the matter?Don't you blikkel English?

e groaned and started searchingthrough his briefcase forthe reports from Psych. Eastonmust be insane. He must! Ramirezsays it's no language. Stoughtonsays it's no language. And I,Jonathan thought savagely, sayit's no language.

But—

Margery tiptoed into the studywith a tray.

"But Psych," he continuedaloud to her, "Psych says it mustbe a language because, they say,Easton is not insane!"

"Oh, dear," sighed Margery,blinking her pale blue eyes."That again?" She set his coffeeon the desk in front of him. "PoorJonathan. Why doesn't the Institutegive up?"

"Because they can't." Hereached for the cup and sat glaringat the steaming coffee.

"Well," said his wife, settlinginto the leather chair beside him,"I certainly would. My goodness,it's been over a month now sincehe came back, and you haven'tlearned a thing from him!"

"Oh, we've learned some. Andthis morning, for the first time,Easton himself began to seempuzzled by a few of the thingshe was saying. He's beginning touse terms we can understand.He's coming around. And if Icould only find some clue—somesort of—"

Margery snorted. "It's justplain foolish! I knew the Institutewas asking for trouble whenthey sent the Rhinestead off. Howdo they know Easton ever gotto Mars, anyway? Maybe he didaway with those other men, cruisedaround, and then came backto Earth with this made-up storyjust so he could seem to be ahero and—"

"That's nonsense!"

"Why?" she demanded stubbornly."Why is it?"

"Because the R