Once at the crossing of a little brook, I pulled a stone into the water, and we instantly lay as still as death.  But men preoccupied with their own concerns do not keep anxious watch, and our precautions were needless.  Presently we had come to the far side of the shelf abreast of the boulder on which he sat who seemed to be the chief figure.  Now I could raise my head, and what I saw made my eyes dazzle.

Red Ringan sat on a stone with a naked cutlass across his knees.  In front stood a man, the most evil-looking figure that I had ever beheld.  He was short but very sturdily built, and wore a fine laced coat not made for him, which hung to his knees, and was stretched tight at the armpits.  He had a heavy pale face, without hair on it.  His teeth had gone, all but two buck-teeth which stuck out at each corner of his mouth, giving him the look of a tusker.  I could see his lips moving uneasily in the glare of the pine boughs, and his eyes darted about the company as if seeking countenance.

Ringan was speaking very gravely, with his eyes shining like sword points.  The others were every make and manner of fellow, from well-shaped and well-clad gentlemen to loutish seamen in leather jerkins.  Some of the faces were stained dark with passion and crime, some had the air of wild boys, and some the hard sobriety of traders.  But one and all were held by the dancing eyes of the man that spoke.

“What is the judgment,” he was saying, “of the Free Companions?  By the old custom of the Western Seas I call upon you, gentlemen all, for your decision.”

Then I gathered that the evil-faced fellow had offended against some one of their lawless laws, and was on his trial.

No one spoke for a moment, and then one grizzled seaman raised his hand, “The dice must judge,” he said.  “He must throw for his life against the six.”

Another exclaimed against this.  “Old wives’ folly,” he cried, with an oath.  “Let Cosh go his ways, and swear to amend them.  The Brethren of the Coast cannot be too nice in these little matters.  We are not pursy justices or mooning girls.”

But he had no support.  The verdict was for the dice, and a seaman brought Ringan a little ivory box, which he held out to the prisoner.  The latter took it with shaking hand, as if he did not know how to use it.

“You will cast thrice,” said Ringan.  “Two even throws, and you are free.”

The man fumbled a little and then cast.  It fell a four.

A second time he threw, and the dice lay five.

In that wild place, in the black heart of night, the terror of the thing fell on my soul.  The savage faces, the deadly purpose in Ringan’s eyes, the fumbling miscreant before him, were all heavy with horror.  I had no doubt that Cosh was worthy of death, but this cold and merciless treatment froze my reason.  I watched with starting eyes the last throw, and I could not hear Ringan declare it.  But I saw by the look on Cosh’s face what it had been.