Crazy Cow had often indulged in the whipping sport, and knew how to
wield the quirt most effectively.
So the battle of the quirts went on, the blows falling as fast as their
arms could fly, but Ted plainly was getting the worst of it on account
of the protection which the buckskin shirt gave the Indian.
Ted saw that this soon must change or he would be ignominiously beaten.
He had not shown that he suffered any pain from the blows he received,
although the Indians watched his face closely for any sign that he was
weakening.
At last Ted thought that he had discovered a vulnerable spot.
With a sudden wrench of his strong wrist upon the leather collar which
he grasped, he whipped Crazy Cow flat across his saddle and held him
there.
Then with all his strength he brought his quirt across the seat of Crazy
Cow's blue flannel trousers, which were drawn tight, and upon the tender
part of the back of his legs.
The Indian struggled furiously, but could not release himself, and all
the while the cruel blows were raining upon him.
A huge burst of laughter rose from the broncho boys, but the Indians
could not see the joke, and with angry exclamations started forward to
rescue their young chief.
But at this sign of hostility Ben Tremont let out a roar, and every
broncho boy threw his rifle to his shoulder, and the Indians shrank back
in silence.
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