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The
Fremen
said
:
“
There
is
always
a
way
to
water
.
”
Behind
Hawat
,
a
man
cursed
.
Hawat
’
s
aide
called
:
“
Thufir
!
Arkie
just
died
.
”
The
Fremen
put
a
fist
to
his
ear
.
“
The
bond
of
water
!
It
’
s
a
sign
!
”
He
stared
at
Hawat
.
“
We
have
a
place
nearby
for
accepting
the
water
.
Shall
I
call
my
men
?
”
The
aide
returned
to
Hawat
’
s
side
,
said
:
“
Thufir
,
a
couple
of
the
men
left
wives
in
Arrakeen
.
They
’
re
.
.
.
well
,
you
know
how
it
is
at
a
time
like
this
.
”
The
Fremen
still
held
his
fist
to
his
ear
.
“
Is
it
the
bond
of
water
,
Thufir
Hawat
?
”
he
demanded
.
Hawat
’
s
mind
was
racing
.
He
sensed
now
the
direction
of
the
Fremen
’
s
words
,
but
feared
the
reaction
of
the
tired
men
under
the
rock
overhang
when
they
understood
it
.
“
The
bond
of
water
,
”
Hawat
said
.
“
Let
our
tribes
be
joined
,
”
the
Fremen
said
,
and
he
lowered
his
fist
.
As
though
that
were
the
signal
,
four
men
slid
and
dropped
down
from
the
rocks
above
them
.
They
darted
back
under
the
overhang
,
rolled
the
dead
man
in
a
loose
robe
,
lifted
him
and
began
running
with
him
along
the
cliff
wall
to
the
right
.
Spurts
of
dust
lifted
around
their
running
feet
.
