curiously unmoved. It was a display of power that appealed strongly to their cruel natures, lacking a little, perhaps, in piquancy, because it did not involve the cracking of joints, which is an accepted method of punishment by the South Sea islander when he wishes to set a powerful example, but interesting—decidedly interesting.
The triced savages howled with pain, for the thong cut deeply into their black skins, and raised a wale wherever it struck. With extreme distaste, the white men watched the performance to the end, and then saw Isa and Baloo fastened up in the hut that was to act as their prison.
"Beastly business!" said Chester. "I hate this sort of thing, but there are times when it's absolutely necessary."
"You've got to make 'em understand," agreed Keith, "and the thing doesn't penetrate to their brains till you wade right into 'em properly."
"Why, man," said Chester, "you look almost as though it was you who had been flogged. Nothing wrong, is there?"
"A touch of fever, I think," Keith replied wearily. "It's an old friend of mine. Maybe it'll pass off soon. Guess I'll lie down for a spell. You've got some quinine around, I suppose? You might give me fifteen or twenty grains. It's got to be kill or cure with me when it starts."
His face was drawn and pinched, with a hectic
