"Here goes," said Tom. He wet his lips, placed a wet finger on his
temples and sipped the liquid slowly, allowing it to trickle down his
parched throat.
Roger and Astro did the same. After he had wet his lips, Astro took the
full amount in his mouth and washed it around, before swallowing it.
Roger brought the cup up slowly to his mouth with trembling hands,
tipped it shakily, and then before Astro or Tom could catch him, fell to
the ground. The precious water spilled into the sand.
Tom and Astro watched dumfounded as the dry sand sucked away the water
until nothing remained but a damp spot six inches wide.
"I guess--" began Tom, "I guess that about does it!"
"We'll have to carry him," said Astro simply.
Tom looked up into the eyes of his unit-mate. There he saw a
determination that would not be defeated. He nodded his head and stooped
over to grapple with Roger's legs. He got one leg under each arm and
then tried to straighten up. He fell to the sand and rolled to one side.
Astro watched him get up slowly, wearily, his space-cloth covering
remaining on the ground, and then, with gritted teeth, try once more to
pick Roger's legs up.
Astro put out his hand and touched Tom on the shoulder. His voice was
low, hardly above a whisper. "You lead the way, Tom. I'll carry him."
[Illustration: "_You lead the way, Tom. I'll carry him.
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