_As the curtain rises_, ABEL _is discovered lying asleep, curled up in the patch of shade beneath the coco palm. He is a runty, under-sized boy of fifteen, with a shrivelled old face, tanned to parchment by the sum. He has on a suit of dirty dungarees, man’s size, much too large for him, which hang in loose folds from his puny frame. A thatch of brown hair straggles in limp wisps from under the peaked canvas cap he wears. He looks terribly exhausted. His dreams are evidently fraught with terror, for he twitches convulsively and moans with fright._ BUTLER _enters hurriedly, panting, from the right, rear. He is a tall man of over middle age, dressed in the faded remainder of what was once a brown suit. The coat, the buttons of which have been torn off, hangs open, revealing his nakedness beneath. A cloth cap covers his bald head, with its halo of dirty thin grey hair. His body is emaciated. His face, with its round, blue eyes, is weathered and cracked by the sun’s rays. The wreck of a pair of heavy shoes flop about his bare feet. He looks back cautiously, as if he were afraid of being followed; then satisfied that he is not, he approaches the sleeping boy, and bending down, puts his hand on_ ABEL’S _forehead_. ABEL _groans and opens his eyes. He stares about furtively, as if seeking someone whose presence he dreads to find._ ABEL--[_In a husky voice._] Where’s Capt’n and the rest, Butts? BUTLER--[_In a hoarse, cracked whisper._]--On the beach--down there. [_He makes an exhausted gesture, right, and then sinks with a groan at the foot of the tree, leaning back against the trunk, trying vainly to hunch his long legs up so as to be completely in the shade._] ABEL--What’re they doin’? [_With avid eyes._] They ain’t found no water yet? BUTLER--[_Shaking his head, his eyes closing wearily._] No. How would they--when there ain’t any--not on this devil’s island--dry as a bone, my sonny--sand and sun--that’s all. ABEL--[_Remonstratingly--his lips trembling a little._] Aw--maybe--you don’t know no different. BUTLER--No. Might as well look the devil in the face, sonny. There’s no water here. Not a damn drop. No--nor a scrap to eat, neither. Only the damn sun. [_Weakly--touching the skin of his face with trembling fingers._] God! My face is like the raw inside of a wet hide! If it’d only rain! [_After a pause--kindly._] But how are you, eh? Had a good sleep? ABEL--I was dreamin’ awful. [_With a sudden, shrill agony--his lips twitching._] I need a drink of water--something awful! My mouth’s burnin’ up. [_With tremulous pleading._] Say, ain’t you got ’nother drink left?--honest, ain’t you? BUTLER--[_Looking around him cautiously._] Not so loud! [_Fixing his eyes sternly on the boy._] This is a dead secret, mind! You’ll swear you won’t blab--not to him? ABEL--Sure, Butts, sure! Gawd strike me dead!