Olduk said, clearly and distinctly, "I am sorry you are not able to drink, see?..." "All right, you'll get your water," Sam panted excitedly, only vaguely conscious that the radio was going. He watched the spheroid grow and grow. Still suspended from the faucet, it touched the sink. Then the "drop" grew up around the faucet until the faucet was completely enclosed. The drop began to overlap the sink, still maintaining a spherical shape. Suddenly there was a loud, metallic _pop_. The drop broke away from the faucet, of its own weight, fell to the linoleumed floor with a dull barrrrooooommmmmmm. It was three feet in diameter; and another one was growing from the faucet. "I wanna drink of water," said the damned kid, waddling into the kitchen, rubbing its eyes. Those eyes brightened as they saw the gleaming sphere. A grimy hand reached out and touched it. Against his will, the whole arm of the kid was drawn against the sphere, and the rest of the body was drawn with it, legs snapped together, one arm locked to its side, the other curled to the breaking point over its head. Sam roared but he was too late. The bewildered kid's nose touched the sphere, and his whole face was drawn, in, so that all air was cut off. Sam grabbed hold of him, and pulled frantically, madly, until he was panting. Then he let go, screaming, and ran for the cupboard. It was some seconds before he found an ax. By the time he got back, the second drop had fallen, had merged with the first, forming a sphere five feet in diameter, with the kid plastered against it. Sam swung the ax. The sharp blade hit, actually penetrated the sphere. Sam yelled. The ax was literally sucked in. Sam refused to let go, and his hands went into the water after the ax. There was a terrible contratcile force on his wrists. Then something seemed rushing up his arms. The something enclosed his body with the speed of a striking snake. The next thing he knew, water had smothered his nose, his mouth, and he was _inside_, looking _out_. He was staring into the smothered face of the damned kid. Shortly after that he drowned. He couldn't get out. Another drop fell, another, and another, another, another, adding themselves to the original mass.... * * * * * On the high seas, the S.S. _Wilcox_ battered through rising, flooding seas. The captain stood on the bridge, yelling orders to his men below. The first mate flung water from his face, gritted, "We'll never make port." A sailor came up the companionway, steadying himself on the handrail. "There's water pouring through a hole in a forward section," he gasped hoarsely. "We can't caulk it. She's sinking at the stem." "Mr. Jones," said the captain, "sound the signal to abandon ship."