Suddenly she laughed out merrily. "My friend, a stranger pilgrimage the world never knew. What is your name?"
"Lawrence," he said.
"Mine," she answered, "is Claire. Go a little to the left."
He turned slightly, and plodded through the sand.
CHAPTER II.
THE WATER OF LIFE.
Still exhausted from his recent battle with the waves, Lawrence was not in the best condition for this new struggle. Before he had gone far, he was forced to rest. He lowered Claire to the ground carefully and dropped beside her. His effort in carrying her had made him breathe hard, the sun was beating down on them, and his throat was dry and parched. Speaking was becoming difficult.
"If we don't find water soon, we're ended," he managed to say.
"I'm afraid we are," she admitted. "Do you know, Lawrence, you shouldn't try to carry me. I weigh over a hundred and thirty pounds. That is too much for any man. Without me, you might make it, even though you couldn't travel so steadily ahead."
"Perhaps," he agreed. "I've thought of that. But, you see, I would have to feel my way. At best I'd get a lot of falls. I might walk off a precipice. That doesn't appeal to me, now that I've set myself to winning."