But he had.
"We may be here quite a long while," Mr. Wordsley said, and could not contrive to sound downhearted about it.
But Captain DeCastros had already turned away and was feeling his way back along the ledge.
Mr. Wordsley waited just a moment longer; then he took from his pocket a heavy object and dropped it upon the slope and it rolled over and over, down and down, until its metallic sheen was lost in that superior glare.
It was a spare irmium alloy plug.
He made his way back to the water-maker. They would have to take good care of it from now on.
He was not concerned with the basin. However, in the soft, damp sand beside the basin, plainly imprinted there, as if someone's raiding party had interrupted someone's bathing party, there remained a single, small and dainty footprint.
One could almost imagine that a faint breath of perfume still lingered upon the sheltered air of the rift, but, of course, only things which glittered interested Mr. Wordsley.
THE END