He walked, he staggered, and once he fell to the ground, Tom slumping
behind him and Roger being tossed limply to the scorching sand. Slowly
Astro recovered, helped Tom to his feet, then with the last of his great
strength, picked up Roger again. This time, he was unable to get him to
his shoulder so he carried him like a baby in his arms.
At last the sun began to drop in the red sky. Astro felt Roger's limp
body slipping from his grip. By now, Tom had lost all but the very last
ounce of his strength and was simply being pulled along.
"Tom--" gasped Astro with great effort, "I'm going to count to a
thousand and then--I'm going to stop."
Tom didn't answer.
Astro began to count. "One--two--three--four--five--six--" He tried to
make each number become a step forward. He closed his eyes. It wasn't
important which way he went. It was only important that he walk those
thousand steps, "five hundred eleven--five hundred twelve--five hundred
thirteen--"
Involuntarily he opened his eyes when he felt himself climbing up a
small rise in the sand. He opened his eyes and ten feet away was the
flat blue surface of the canal they had been searching for.
"You can let go now, Tom," said Astro in a voice hardly above a whisper.
"We made it. We're on the bank of the canal."
* * * * *
"Hey, Roger," yelled Astro from the middle of the canal, "ever see a guy
make like a submarine?"
Tom and Roger sat on the top of the low bank of the canal drying off
from a swim, while Astro still splashed around luxuriating in the cool
water.
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