They took the canteen and swallowed. "Go on," Hugo said, and permitted himself a small lie. "I can get more in a couple of hours." He produced his flask. "And finish off on a shot of this."
He held the containers for the armless man and handed them to the other. Their clothes were ragged and stained. Their shoes were in pieces. Sweat had soaked under the blind man's armpits and stained his tunic. As Hugo watched him swallow thirstily, he started. The chin and the hair were familiar. His mind spun. He knew the voice, although its tenor was sadly changed.
"Good God," he said involuntarily, "it's Lefty!"
Lefty stiffened. "Who are you?"
"Hugo Danner."
"Hugo Danner?" The tortured brain reflected.
"Hugo! Good old Hugo! What, in the name of Jesus, are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are."
An odd silence fell. The man with the shattered arms broke it. "Know this fellow?"
"Do I know him! Gee! He was at college with me. One of my buddies. Gosh!" His hand reached out. "Put it there, Hugo."