Before he could finish the sentence fifty men and youths had stepped forward. Mosu looked at them with proud sadness. “Your lives are precious to us,” he said, his eyes kindling, “and there are many among you who cannot be spared. Let those who have wives and children step back, for them we cannot lose.” Reluctantly more than half of those who had come forth drew back again. There remained only the young men, straight, supple, earnest-eyed lads who were the very flower of the village. In their brown faces was no sign of fear. Mosu scanned them, one by one, his lips set in a thin line, his eyes tenderly kind. “It is danger we offer you,” he said slowly, “but it is also the greatest honor we can give. Choose among yourselves who shall be sent, for you know your own worth.” Kwasa stepped forward eagerly. “Let us toss the dice,” he begged, “and hang our fortunes on the first who shall throw the whites.” Mosu thought a moment. The idea appealed to him in two ways; for one thing, it removed from anyone the responsibility of sending a comrade forth to possible death, and for another he knew the gambling spirit was strong in every Cliffman’s breast and the decision of the dice would never be disputed. “Who has dice?” asked Mosu, turning to the onlookers. Kwasa undid a fold of his belt and gave the priest the three sticks of cane he had carried so long. Mosu handed them to the boy who stood nearest. He tossed them nervously, amid a breathless silence. As they came down showing two reds and one white, a woman on the lower terrace gave a sobbing cry. Turning toward her, his lip quivering with disappointment, the lad saw his mother, and bounded across the court to where she sat. “The gods be praised--they have not taken my son from me,” she said, throwing her arms about his neck. “But I would have served them well,” he cried, trying hard to keep back unmanly tears. One after another the youths came forward to try their fortunes with the dice. But no one threw the whites together. Wiki, trembling with eagerness, found them at his feet with all the red sides up, and gave place to Kwasa, who came next. Carefully placing the sticks in his fingers, and with a quick glance at old Honau, who stood watching with much interest, Kwasa spun the dice high in the air. And when they came down every one knew that the danger and the honor had fallen to Kwasa by the favor of the gods. Tcua, his old grandmother, scorning the weakness that fought its way to her moist eyes, called him proudly to her side and touched the turquoise at his throat. “You will come back safe--it is a charm,” she said confidently. But once more Kwasa hid the cane strips carefully in his belt. “Yes, I will come back safe--for I have a charm,” he said, smiling.