"Perhaps we had better draw lots for it," began Bertram. "I may say that, if I am chosen, I am perfectly willing to go; if it falls upon you, Mortimer, I have no doubt you will not raise any objection. What do you say?"
"Let us draw lots for it by all means," Max answered. "But how shall we decide?"
One of the Spaniards, true son of a gambling race, immediately produced a dice box, which he still carried with him, long after he had parted with other apparently more valuable possessions. By the flickering light of the camp fire, the two men threw, to decide which should have the honour of courting what, each must have felt in his own heart, was almost certain death. As a result Max was declared to be the winner.
"It is settled then," said Moreas, with what Max could not help feeling was a note of satisfaction in his voice. "You are perfectly satisfied? Well, to-morrow, Señor Mortimer, if you are prepared, we will push on together, and see what fate has in store for us."
"I shall be quite ready," Max replied. "And, as I understand it, the remainder of the party will retrace their steps to the fertile country at the entrance to the Ranges, and await our coming there."
"That is how I understand it also," replied Bertram, looking steadily at Max. "We shall give you three months' grace, and if you have not returned by the end of that time, we shall conclude that you are dead, and will either attempt to reach you, or return to civilisation, as circumstances may dictate."
"That is the arrangement," said Moreas.
After that the party lapsed into silence once more.
As nobody seemed inclined for conversation when these details had been settled, they rolled themselves up in their blankets and said good-night to the world. Silence had not taken possession of the camp more than half an hour before Max felt the pressure of a hand upon his arm. He rolled over to find Bertram making signals to him. He accordingly arose and followed him to a spot at some little distance from the camp. When they had assured themselves that they were not being followed, the Englishman spoke.
"Your Royal Highness," he said; then, seeing that the other was about to interrupt him, held up his hand. "Pardon me, but for a few minutes it is necessary that I should forget our supposed equality, and remember that you are a royal personage, and I only the son of a Yorkshire gentleman. I'm not as a rule a man who thinks very much of titles, but there is no getting away from the fact that a man who is, or should be, going to rule a country, is called upon to take more care of his life than other people. When we drew lots to-night as to who should accompany Moreas, I hoped and believed that chance would favour myself. Fate, however, willed otherwise. Now, sir, what I am going to say to you is this; if you will consent to allow me to go forward in your place, it will be conferring an honour upon me for which I shall be grateful to you to my dying day. I can easily make an excuse to Moreas, and convince him that we have come to the arrangement together. Nobody will suspect, and so you will be saved from doing, what I really and truly believe to be, a wrong act."