ugh when we started."

"I am still sure," returned Dubosc. "The ship will come. Only she cannot
stay for us in one spot. She will be cruising to and fro until she
intercepts us. We must wait."

"Ah, good! We must wait. And in the meantime, what? Fry here in the
sacred heat with our tongues hanging out while you deal us drop by
drop--hein?"

"Perhaps."

"But no!" The garroter clenched his hands. "Blood of God, there is no
man big enough to feed me with a spoon!"

Fenayrou's chuckle came pat, as it had more than once, and Dubosc
shrugged.

"You laugh!" cried Perroquet, turning in fury. "But how about this
lascar of a captain that lets us put to sea unprovided? What? He thinks
of everything, does he? He thinks of everything!... Sacred farceur--let
me hear you laugh again!"

Somehow Fenayrou was not so minded.

"And now he bids us be reasonable," concluded The Parrot. "Tell that to
the devils in hell. You and your cigarettes, too. Bah--comedian!"

"It is true," muttered Fenayrou, frowning. "A bad piece of work for a
captain of runaways."

But the doctor faced mutiny with his thin smile.

"All this alters nothing. Unless we would die very speedily, we must
guard our water."

"By whose fault?"

"Mine," acknowledged the doctor. "I admit it. What then? We can't turn
back. Here we are. Here we must stay. We can only do our best with what
we have."

"I want a drink," repeated The Parrot, whose throat was afire since he
had been denied.

"You can claim your share, of course. But take warning of one thing.
After it is gone do not think to sponge on us--on Fenayrou and me."

"He would be capable of it, the pig!" exclaimed Fenayrou, to whom this
thrust had been directed. "I know him. See here, my old, the doctor is
right. Fair for one, fair for all."

"I want a drink."

Dubosc removed the wooden plug from the flask.

"Very well," he said quietly.

With the delicacy that lent something of legerdemain to all his
gestures, he took out a small canvas wallet, the crude equivalent of the
professional black bag, from which he drew a thimble. Meticulously he
poured a brimming measure, and Fenayrou gave a shout at the grumbler's
fallen jaw as he accepted that tiny cup between his big fingers. Dubosc
served Fenayrou and himself with the same amount before he recorked the
bottle.

"In this manner we should have enough to last us three days--maybe
more--with equal shares among the three of us."...

Such was his su