nce, and then Bland and
Dawes looked at each other. The prize had been left in the bag.
Mooney--fortunate old fellow--retained the longest straw. Bland's hand
shook as he compared notes with his companion. There was a moment's
pause, during which the blank eyeballs of the blind man fiercely
searched the gloom, as if in that awful moment they could penetrate it.

"I hold the shortest," said Dawes to Bland. "'Tis you that must do it."

"I'm glad of that," said Mooney.

Bland, seemingly terrified at the danger which fate had decreed that
he should run, tore the fatal lot into fragments with an oath, and
sat gnawing his knuckles in excess of abject terror. Mooney stretched
himself out upon his plank-bed. "Come on, mate," he said. Bland extended
a shaking hand, and caught Rufus Dawes by the sleeve.

"You have more nerve than I. You do it."

"No, no," said Dawes, almost as pale as his companion. "I've run my
chance fairly. 'Twas your own proposal." The coward who, confident in
his own luck, would seem to have fallen into the pit he had dug for
others, sat rocking himself to and fro, holding his head in his hands.

"By Heaven, I can't do it," he whispered, lifting a white, wet face.

"What are you waiting for?" said fortunate Mooney. "Come on, I'm ready."

"I--I--thought you might like to--to--pray a bit," said Bland.

The notion seemed to sober the senses of the old man, exalted too
fiercely by his good fortune.

"Ay!" he said. "Pray! A good thought!" and he knelt down; and
shutting his blind eyes--'twas as though he was dazzled by some strong
light--unseen by his comrades, moved his lips silently. The silence was
at last broken by the footsteps of the warder in the corridor. Bland
hailed it as a reprieve from whatever act of daring he dreaded. "We must
wait until he goes," he whispered eagerly. "He might look in."

Dawes nodded, and Mooney, whose quick ear apprised him very exactly of
the position of the approaching gaoler, rose from his knees radiant. The
sour face of Gimblett appeared at the trap cell-door.

"All right?" he asked, somewhat--so the three thought--less sourly than
usual.

"All right," was the reply, and Mooney added, "Good-night, Mr.
Gimblett."

"I wonder what is making the old man so cheerful," thought Gimblett, as
he got into the next corridor.

The sound of his echoing footsteps had scarcely died away, when upon the
ears of the two less fortunate casters of lots fell the dull sound of
re