the
emergency stores of the life boat.

"It's a dragon!" the youth shouted. "It's going to get us."

He stared at something that he could see coming through the air.

Craig drew his pistol. "If it comes after us, I'll shoot it," he said,
displaying the gun. "See this pistol."

"That won't stop _this_ dragon," English insisted. "Oh--oh--" His eyes
widened with fright as he watched something coming through the sky. He
ducked down in the bottom of the boat, hid his face in his hands. Men,
caught unprotected in the open by a bombing raid, threw themselves to
the ground like that, while they waited for the bombs to fall. A few
minutes later, English looked up. Relief showed on his face.

"It's gone away," he said. "It flew over and didn't see us."

"There was no danger," Craig said gently. "It wouldn't have harmed us.
It was a tame dragon."

"There aren't any tame dragons!" the youth said scornfully. He was
looking again at the sea. "There's a snake!" he yelled. "A huge snake!
It's got its head out of the water--"

"Poor kid," Margy Sharp whispered. "Can't we do something for him?"

"I'm afraid not," Craig answered. "But you might take him some water."
He poured a generous share into the cup, watched the girl take it to the
youth, who drank it eagerly.

* * * * *

Michaelson and Voronoff, awakened by the hysterical cries of the youth,
were sitting up. Michaelson stared incuriously around him, like a bird
that finds itself in a strange forest and wonders how he got there. Then
he pulled a small black notebook out of his pocket and began studying
it. Ever since he had been in the life boat he had been studying the
contents of the notebook, ignoring everything else.

"What's the idea of wasting water on _him_?" Voronoff said sullenly,
nodding his head toward English. Margy Sharp was holding the cup to the
youth's lips.

"What?" Craig was startled.

"He's done for," Voronoff asserted. He seemed to consider the statement
sufficient. He did not attempt to explain it.

A cold glitter appeared in Craig's eyes. "So why waste water on him?" he
questioned. "Is that what you mean?"

"That's exactly what I mean," Voronoff answered. "Why waste water on a
dead man? We don't have any too much water anyhow."

"Go to hell!" Craig said contemptuously.

"You can say that because you've got the gun," Voronoff said.

Craig's face turned gray with anger but he controlled his temper. "If
you t