ately, vigorously and impartially laid the switch
over the shoulders of George and Victor. You would not suspect the vim
with which this disciplining was carried out. Only the brothers
themselves could testify feelingly as to that.

And the boys had to "grin and bear it," for there was no escape for
them. It was useless to run, and had they tried it they would have been
punished more severely. They were too proud to complain. The
quicker-tempered Victor wanted to revolt and attack the Shawanoe, but
he knew George would not join him, for such rebellion would have been
disastrous to them. They had tested the ability of Deerfoot in that
line too often to doubt his superiority. Had the shadow of a doubt
lingered, the scene they had witnessed a few minutes before would have
dispelled it.

The rod descended first upon the shoulders of Victor, then upon those
of George, and there was no difference in the force of the blows. Oh,
how they stung! Each boy wanted to scratch the smarting parts, but
grimly stood it out. Finally Victor ventured to say:

"When you are tired, Deerfoot, you have our permission to stop."

"Tired! He won't get tired in a week. Our only hope is that he will use
up all the switches in the country."

And the Shawanoe kept at it till the rod broke in the middle and only
the stump was left in his hand. He flung that aside, and, without
speaking, turned and walked toward the village. As soon as his face was
turned the boys devoted their efforts to rubbing and scratching their
arms, shoulders and backs.

"How many times do you think he struck us?" ruefully asked George.

"I guess about four thousand; but I forgot to count."

"He started in with you and ended with me, so we both got the same.
Gracious alive, but he knows his business!"

"Anyhow, what we saw was worth all we had to pay. I didn't think he
would do anything of the kind, did you?"

"No; I thought we might keep our visit a secret, but not many things
escape his eye. I suppose after all he was right."

"Wait till these smarts let up a little before you ask me to say that,"
replied Victor, still rubbing and fidgeting about. "Can't you think of
some way of getting even with him?"

"I wish I could, but the worst thing anyone can do is to tackle
Deerfoot. We must try to believe we were lucky in getting off as
lightly as we did."

"Lightly!" sniffed Victor. "I should like to know what you call _heavy_
if that is light."

"And he is still m