gainst the injustice of it.

"Our lives is just as dear to us as the rest iv yez," O'Brien protested.
"An' our famblies, too. As for wives an' childer, who is there savin'
meself to care for me old mother that's a widow, as you know well,
Michael Behane, that comes from Limerick? 'Tis not fair. Let the lots be
drawn between all of us, men and b'ys."

Mahoney was the only man who spoke in favour of the boys, declaring that
it was the fair thing for all to share alike. Sullivan and the captain
insisted on the drawing of lots being confined to the boys. There
were high words, in the midst of which Sullivan turned upon O'Brien,
snarling--

"'Twould be a good deed to put you out of the way. You deserve it.
'Twould be the right way to serve you, an' serve you we will."

He started toward O'Brien, with intent to lay hands on him and proceed
at once with the killing, while several others likewise shuffled toward
him and reached for him. He stumbled backwards to escape them, at the
same time crying that he would submit to the drawing of the lots among
the boys.

The captain prepared four sticks of different lengths and handed them to
Sullivan.

"You're thinkin' the drawin'll not be fair," the latter sneered to
O'Brien. "So it's yerself'll do the drawin'."

To this O'Brien agreed. A handkerchief was tied over his eyes,
blindfolding him, and he knelt down on the deck with his back to
Sullivan.

"Whoever you name for the shortest stick'll die," the captain said.

Sullivan held up one of the sticks. The rest were concealed in his hand
so that no one could see whether it was the short stick or not.

"An' whose stick will it be?" Sullivan demanded.

"For little Johnny Sheehan," O'Brien answered.

Sullivan laid the stick aside. Those who looked could not tell if it
were the fatal one. Sullivan held up another stick.

"Whose will it be?"

"For George Burns," was the reply.

The stick was laid with the first one, and a third held up.

"An' whose is this wan?"

"For myself," said O'Brien.

With a quick movement, Sullivan threw the four sticks together. No one
had seen.

"'Tis for yourself ye've drawn it," Sullivan announced.

"A good deed," several of the men muttered.

O'Brien was very quiet. He arose to his feet, took the bandage off, and
looked around.

"Where is ut?" he demanded. "The short stick? The wan for me?"

The captain pointed to the four sticks lying on the deck.

"How do you know the stick was