"I am with you, Pat!" I cried. "It's to be one of us three, and we are in league against all the other men in London. And now the question is—"
"Hear my plan. This very night we'll draw lots as to which of us shall have the first chance. The man who wins shall have the entire support of the other two in every possible way. If she accepts him, then the fates have spoken. If she doesn't, then the next man in the draw shall have his chance, and the rejected suitor and the poor third man shall help him to the utmost of their ability. Is that clear?"
He stopped and looked down at us from his great height with a smiling and anxious face.
Dear old Pat, I shall always love to think that the proposal came from him, straight, clean and true, as he always was.
"So be it," Arthur echoed solemnly. "The league shall begin this very night. Do either of you chaps know any Spanish, by the way?"
We shook our heads.
"Well, I do," he continued, "and we'll form ourselves into a Santa Hermandad—'The Holy Brotherhood'—it was the name of an old Spanish Society of chivalry ever so many years ago."
"Santa Hermandad!" Pat shouted, "and now to shake hands on it. I think we'll not be needing to take an oath."
Our three hands were clasped together in an instant and we knew that, come what might, each would be true to that bond.
"And now," I said, "to draw lots as to who shall be the first to try his chance. How shall we settle it?"