It was late afternoon when they woke, ravenously hungry, their throats burning with thirst. For food McTee climbed a coconut palm and knocked down some of the fruit. They split the gourds open on a rock, drank the liquor, and ate heartily of the meat. That quelled their appetites, but the sweet liquor only partially appeased their thirst, and they started to search the island for a spring. First they went to the center of the place to a small hill, and from the top of this they surveyed their domain. The island was not more than a thousand yards in width and three or four miles in length. Nowhere was there any sign of even a hut. "Well?" queried Harrigan, seeing McTee frown. "We can live here," explained the captain, "but God knows how long it will be before we sight a ship. Our only hope is for some tramp freighter that's trying to find a short cut through the reefs. Even if we sight a tramp, how'll we signal her?" "With a fire." "Aye, if one passes at night. We could stack up wood on the top of this hill. The island isn't charted. If a skipper saw a light, he might take a chance and send a boat. But how could we kindle a fire?" They went slowly down the hill, their heads bent. At the base, as if placed in their path to cheer them in this moment of gloom, they found a spring. It ran a dozen feet and disappeared into a crevice. They cupped the water in their hands and drank long and deep. When they stood up again, McTee dropped a hand on Harrigan's shoulder. He said: "You've cause enough for hating me." "Pal," said Harrigan, "you're nine parts devil, but the part of you that's a man makes up for all the rest." McTee brooded: "Now we're standing on the rim of the world, and we've got to be brother to each other. But what if we get off the island--there's small chance of it, but what if we should? Would we remember then how we took hands in the trough of the sea?" Harrigan raised his hand. "So help me God--" he began. "Wait!" broke in McTee. "Don't say it. Suppose we get off the island, and when we reach port find one thing which we both want. What then?" Harrigan remembered a word from the Bible. "I'll never covet one of your belongin's, McTee, an' I'll never cross your wishes." "Your hair is red, Harrigan, and mine is black; your eye is blue and mine is black. We were made to want the same thing in different ways. I've never met my mate before. I can stand it here on the rim of the world--but in the world itself--what then, Harrigan?" They stepped apart, and the glance of the black eye crossed that of the cold blue. "Ah-h, McTee, are ye dark inside and out? Is the black av your eye the same as the soot in your heart?" "Harrigan, you were born to fight and forget; I was born to fight and remember. Well, I take no oath, but here's my hand. It's better than the oath of most men." "A strange fist," grinned Harrigan; "soft in the palm and hard over the knuckles--like mine."