Edwin G. Wood

“ He stole a look at his companion lying near, and slyly drew the canteen, with its fast-diminishing precious contents, to his mouth. He had no thought for his weaker companion, Dick Webb. When Dick could not suppress a groan, Binns' close-set eyes narrowed and gleamed evilly, and he muttered imprecations against the frailer men.
He was angry with Webb. The two had had an argument concerning the world-old law of the survival of the fittest. He had contended that the law among men held the same as it did among the brute creation. The strong survived, the weak perished. ”

“ He moved his hand impatiently toward the canteen, paused. Why should he waste the precious life-sustaining fluid on this half-dead man? He couldn't last, that was evident. Every drop that Dick drank now lessened Binns' chance of getting out. It was a sinful waste to pour water down the throat of a man so nearly gone. It would be much better to let the poor devil die and be done with it. It would be really a mercy to put him out of his misery. Of course it would. Nobody'd ever know the difference, and then Binns would have a chance, a small chance of pulling through. ”

“ Didn't all the big animals prey upon the smaller ones? Of course. Webb pointed out that brains were far superior to brute strength, and that brute strength frequently defeated its own purpose. His argument had been convincing enough to arouse the ire of Binns. He knew that Webb was his superior go far as intellect went, and it angered him. Well, he'd show the weakling that there was another way of taking care of yourself besides using physical strength—there was a foxlike cunning, that didn't require the brains that Webb seemed to think he had, either. ”