She could not see the sailor’s grim smile.  It would materially affect his rest, for the better, were he able to slay every Dyak on the island with a single shot.  Yet her gentle protest pleased him.  She could not at the same time be callous to human suffering and be Iris.  But he declined the discussion of such sentiments.

“You were going to say something when a brief disturbance took place?” he inquired.

“Yes.  I was surprised to find how hot the ledge has become.”

“You notice it more because you are obliged to remain here.”

After a pause—­

“I think I understand now why you were so upset by the loss of our water supply.  Before the day ends we will be in great straits, enduring agonies from thirst!”

“Let us not meet the devil half-way,” he rejoined.  He preferred the unfair retort to a confession which could only foster dismay.

“But, please, I am thirsty now.”

He moved uneasily.  He was only too conscious of the impish weakness, common to all mankind, which creates a desire out of sheer inability to satisfy it.  Already his own throat was parched.  The excitement of the early struggle was in itself enough to engender an acute thirst.  He thought it best to meet their absolute needs as far as possible.

“Bring the tin cup,” he said.  “Let us take half our store and use the remainder when we eat.  Try to avoid breathing through your mouth.  The hot air quickly affects the palate and causes an artificial dryness.  We cannot yet be in real need of water.  It is largely imagination.”

Iris needed no second bidding.  She carefully measured out half a pint of the unsavory fluid—­the dregs of the casks and the scourings of the ledge.

“I will drink first,” she cried.

“No, no,” he interrupted impatiently.  “Give it to me.”

She pretended to be surprised.

“As a mere matter of politeness——­”

“I am sorry, but I must insist.”

She gave him the cup over his shoulder.  He placed it to his lips and gulped steadily.

“There,” he said, gruffly.  “I was in a hurry.  The Dyaks may make another rush at any moment.”

Iris looked into the vessel.

“You have taken none at all,” she said.

“Nonsense!”

“Mr. Jenks, be reasonable!  You need it more than I. I d-don’t want to—­live w-without—­you.”

His hands shook somewhat.  It was well there was no call for accurate shooting just then.

“I assure you I took all I required,” he declared with unnecessary vehemence.

“At least drink your share, to please me,” she murmured.

“You wished to humbug me,” he grumbled.  “If you will take the first half I will take the second.”

And they settled it that way.  The few mouthfuls of tepid water gave them new life.  One sense can deceive the others.  A man developing all the symptoms of hydrophobia has been cured by the assurance that the dog which bit him was not mad.  So these two, not yet aflame with drought, banished the arid phantom for a little while.