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142 preparatory to the ceremony of casting. Nothing loth, the Bo'sun precipitated himself upon the Crew, who in the joy of his heart that such charming activities should break the monotony of the terribly weary life upon the raft, dived between the Bo'sun's legs, upset him and proceeded to roll upon him, with snuffling snorts. And as Crew and Bo'sun grappled in a terrible struggle, the Captain standing aloof, mystic, sibylline, murmured the words, "Behold, I Cast Lots," and flung the fateful document at the Crew. But the Crew was in the very act of leaping back for a fresh rush-and-worry at his prostrate assailant, and the Lot fell on the Bo'sun.

Petrified with horror, the three froze to a dreadful silence, even the Crew apparently impressed with a sense of the magnitude unmeasured, of some great disaster. The Captain was the first to speak.

"Golly!" he cried. "I'm awfully sorry, Bo'sun, but you're It. You're luck's clean out to-day. What rotten Kismet you do have. The Lot fell on you all right, smack in the middle of your chest."

The Bo'sun fetched a deep groan.