izon flaming all around in the most extraordinary fireworks topped
by an azure zenith, found them still crawling south-westwards making
perhaps a mile an hour.

Disjointed words and sentences kept framing themselves in the man's
mind; above all, a sentence he had read long ago in Greek, somewhere.
Where had he read that? Oh, in Xenophon, of course. In _The Retreat of
the Ten Thousand._ The Master gulped it aloud, in a dead voice:

"Most terrible of all is--the desert--for it is full-of a great want."

After a while he knew that he was trying to laugh.

"A great want!" he repeated. "A great--"

Presently it was night again.

The Master's mind cleared. Yes, there was the woman, lying in the sand
near him. But where was the date-stick basket? Where was the last of
the food? He tried to think.

He could remember nothing. But reason told him they must have eaten
the last of the food and thrown the basket away. His shoulders felt
strangely light. What was this? The water-bag was gone, too?

But that did not matter. There had been only a little of that
chemicalized water left, anyhow. Perhaps they had drunk it all, or
bathed their faces and necks with it. Who could tell? The water-sack
was gone; that was all he knew.

A great fear stabbed him. The water-jar! Was that still on his back?
As he felt the pull of a thong, and dragged the jar around so that he
could blink at it, a wonderful relief for a moment deadened his pain.

"_Allah iselmak!_" he croaked, blessing the scant water the jar still
held. He realized the woman was looking at him.

"Water!" he whispered. "Let us drink again--and go on!"

She nodded silently. He loosed the thong, took the jar and peered into
its neck, gauging the small amount of water still there. Then he held
it to her lips.

She seemed to be drinking, but only seemed. Frowning, as she finished,
he once more squinted into the jar with bleared eyes. His voice was
even, dull, ominous as he accused:

"You drank nothing. You are trying to save water for me!"

She shook her head in negation, but he penetrated the lie. His teeth
gleamed through his stubble of beard, and his eyes glinted redly under
the hood of his ragged burnous as he cried:

"Will you drink?"

"I tell you--I have drunk!"

Slowly he tilted the jar toward the thirsty sands.

"Drink, now, or I pour all this on the ground!"

Beaten, she extended a quivering hand. They shared the last of the
water. The man took less tha