challenger,
exhibiting both in their words and attitudes, an earnestness that told
them not altogether indifferent to death.

By a sort of tacit agreement among them, Le Gros acted as master of the
ceremonies,--the dispenser of that dread lottery of life and death, in
which he himself was to take a share. Two or three of his fellows stood
on each side of him, acting as aids or _croupiers_.

Solemn and momentous as was the question to be decided, the mode of
decision was simple in the extreme. Le Gros held in his hand a canvas
bag, of oblong bolster shape,--such as sailors use to carry their spare
suit of "Sunday go-ashores." In the bottom of this bag,--already
carefully counted into it,--were twenty-six buttons: the exact number of
those who were to take part in the drawing. They were the common black
buttons of horn,--each pierced with four holes,--such as may be seen
upon the jacket of the merchant sailor. They had been cut from their
own garments for the purpose in which they were now, a third time, to be
employed, and all chosen so exactly alike, that even the eye would have
found it difficult to distinguish one from the other. One, however,
offered an exception to this statement. While all its fellows were jet
black, it exhibited a reddish hue,--a dark crimson,--as if it had been
defiled with blood. And so it had been; stained on purpose,--that for
which it was to be employed,--to be the exponent of the _prize_, in that
lottery of blood, of which its colour was an appropriate emblem.

The difference between it and the others was not perceptible to the
touch. The fingers of a man born blind could not have distinguished it
among the rest,--much less the callous and tar-bedaubed "claws" of a
sailor.

The red button was cast into the bag along with the others. "_He who
should draw it forth must die_."

As we have said, there was no settling about preliminaries, no talking
about choice as to the time of drawing. These matters had been
discussed before, both openly and by secret mental calculations. All
had arrived at the conclusion that the chances were even, and that it
could make no difference in the event as to whose fate was first
decided. The red button might be the last in the bag, or it might be
the first drawn out of it.

Under this impression, no one hesitated to inaugurate the dread ceremony
of the drawing; and as soon as Le Gros held out the bag,--just open
enough to admit a hand,--a man