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82
TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
THE LAST DROP OF WATER
from his shoulder. He tried to find his way back to the wagons, but only succeeded in pacing in a circle. Then a dark spot in the distance attracted his attention. Slowly and wearily he dragged himself in that direction.
"Hello!"
The call was faint and husky, but it reached Jim's ears. The dark object seemed trying to come to meet him. John hastened, and reached the reeling figure just in time to •catch the man as he fell.
"Jim! Jim!" he cried, recognizing his friend, and trying to rouse him to consciousness. "Wake up, Jim, old pard ! See ! It's me — John ! I've come to fetch you. Here, take a drink!"
John caught up the canteen of the fallen man.
1 ' Empty ! " he gasped.
He realized that Jim had not succeeded in locating water, and that he was dying of thirst, rather than of fatigue. Involuntarily, John reached for his own canteen. He was so thirsty himself that he wondered if he could spare any of the water it contained. Perhaps there was enough for both. He shook the bottle gently. There was only the faintest gurgle in reply. ' ' Enough for one — not enough for two — but he'll die if I dont give it to him. ' '
Unconsciously, John spoke the words aloud. His fevered eyes gazed, over the form of his friend, at a
bit of sage-brush just beyond. He thought he saw it move.
"You'll die yourself if you give it to Jim," a voice seemed to say. The words echoed in his ear. They seemed to come from the sage-brush. He looked again. Yes, there it was, that same little red devil that used to follow him about after he had visited Mulligan's saloon with the sheepmen. How did he ever get out there on the plains? What business was it of his whether he gave Jim Burgess a drink of water or not ? John shook his fist at the sage-brush.
' ' You devilish imp ! " he muttered. "D'ye think I'm going to give in to you now, when Jim Burgess pulled me out of the pit you pushed me into ? You go — where you belong. You used to tell me not to drink water. Now you stand there and grin, and say ' Drink it ! Drink it ! ' I won 't drink it! I'll give it to Jim!"
The delirium of fever was fast getting the better of John Elliot, but a wave of consciousness swept over him again as his hand touched that of his fallen friend. Tears came into his eyes. Then a strong resolution took possession of him. He seized the canteen with one hand, and gently lifting Jim's head with the other, he held the vessel to his friend's lips and watched him slowly drink the last drop of water. That precious water would have been sufficient to take himself back to his girlish bride at the emigrant camp, but he was content.
"I had to do something worth while," he murmured, as he gazed at the haunted sage-brush, the pitifully
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JOHN RETURNS TO MARY