"You two have decided--to keep all the--water?" Mrs. Miller said slowly, as if she was trying to understand the meaning of the words. "But what--what about the rest of us?" "It's too bad for the rest of you," Craig said. He was aware that Margy Sharp was gazing frantically at him but he ignored her. Picking up a tin cup, he held it under the faucet in the side of the keg. A thin stream of water trickled out. He filled the cup half full, and handed it to Margy Sharp. "Drink up," he said. "Double rations for you and me." * * * * * The girl took the cup. She looked at Craig, then glanced quickly at Mrs. Miller. Her parched lips were working but no sound came forth. She looked at the water and Craig could see the movement of her throat as she tried to swallow. Mrs. Miller said nothing. She stared at Craig and the girl as if she did not understand what she was seeing. "Damn you, Craig," Margy Sharp said. "Go on and drink," the big man answered. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" "Y--yes." "Then drink!" "Oh, damn you--" Tears were in the girl's eyes. While Craig watched woodenly, she turned and crawled back to where Mrs. Miller was sitting. "Craig was only teasing," she said gently. "He's a great teaser. He meant for you to have the water all the time. Here, Mrs. Miller, this is for you." "Thank you, dear; thank you ever so much." Mrs. Miller drank the water slowly, in little sips. Margy Sharp watched her. Craig could see the girl trembling. When the last drop was gone, she brought the cup back to Craig--and flung it in his face. "I could kill you!" she gasped. "I gave you what you wanted," he said. His voice was impersonal but the hardness had gone from his eyes. Sobbing, Margy Sharp collapsed in the bottom of the boat. She hid her face in her hands. "Here," Craig said. She looked up. He had drawn a fourth of a cup of water and was holding it toward her. "I--I gave my share to Mrs. Miller," she whispered. "I know you did," Craig answered. "This is my share." "But--" "Water would only rust my stomach," he said. "Take it." The girl drank. She looked at Craig. There were stars in her eyes. He leaned forward and patted her on the shoulder. "You'll do, Margy," he said. "You'll do." * * * * * The boat floated in the glassy sea. The long ground swell of the Pacific, marching aimlessly toward some unknown shore, lifted it steadily up and down, giving the boat the appearance of moving. An empty tin can, thrown overboard three days previously, floated beside the boat. A school of flying fish, fleeing from some pursuing maw beneath the surface, skipped from wave to wave.