There was no reason for postponing the fatal lottery.

There was not one of us that clung in the least to life, and we knew that at the worst, whoever should be doomed to die, would only precede the rest by a few days, or even hours.

All that we desired was just once to slake our raging thirst and moderate our gnawing hunger.
How all the names found their way to the bottom of a hat I cannot tell.

Very likely Falsten wrote them upon a leaf torn from his memorandum-book.

But be that as it may, the eleven names were there, and it was unanimously agreed that the last name drawn should be the victim.
But who would draw the names?
There was hesitation for a moment; then, "I will," said a voice behind me.