"Of all for which we are raffling." "And the men--the seven men you took?" "They are not in the game. We wait till the ransom comes, and that will be divided not by lot but by shares. Money is so divided, not----" Her father tossed over some odds and ends with which the table was cumbered. "I want the seven men," said Noémi. A roar of laughter greeted this demand. "A hundred livres! That is a fine largesse," said one. "It cannot be," said Guillem. "They belong to us all." "Little one," shouted one half-drunken fellow, "we only divide among ourselves--merry companions. We take from those who are outside the band." "But I am the Captain's daughter." "That matters not; you are not a companion." "Father, give me a lot." "I will--my lot." "And grant me a request." "If you draw the highest lot, you shall have what you will--save a share in the loot, and to that you can have no right. We have our laws and are bound to abide by them." "Let us draw, then." The bassinet was passed round, and each drew. There were fourteen knucklebones in it. Noémi put in her hand first and drew, then each in succession. "Hands open," shouted Guillem, and each fist was thrust forward on the table and opened flat, exposing the bone. The knuckles were numbered up to fourteen. "Fourteen!" exclaimed Guillem, as he looked at the rude die in his daughter's palm. "Best of three," said a man. "Again!" called the Captain, after the bones had been thrown into the bassinet and shaken. The same proceeding was gone through. Again each hand was exposed on the table. "Fourteen again!" "A woman and the devil have luck!" shouted one of the men. "There is no beating that!" "Aye! but there is. If next time she draws one," retorted another. "She is a woman; I wish her well." "Ah! you Roger; always honour the petticoat." "Again!" thundered the Captain. Once more hands were plunged into the iron cap, withdrawn, and placed clenched on the table. "Reveal!" cried Guillem, and immediately the hands were turned up with the knuckle-bones. "Fourteen!" again he shouted, as he held up the piece his daughter had exposed. "Was ever luck like this!" stormed one man. "And I--I never draw above five." "Well; what is your request?" asked Guillem. "You have sworn to grant it me." "Yes; if not against rule." "Then make me one of the Company!" A pause, then a shout: "The Red Cross! The Red Cross! Vive the new Companion!" In an instant a piece of crimson silk brocade, an ecclesiastical vestment, was torn to shreds, and the rough hands of the freebooters were fastening two strips crosswise to Noémi's arm. CHAPTER VIII. IN THE DEVIL'S CUPS. "A NEW companion must justify his election," said the sullen man, who had throughout shown ill disposition towards Noémi.