cigarette smoking.

"You've simply got to give up that habit, Alf" Tom urged, as they
walked along.

"You can't make me," retorted young Drew. "You've no right to."

"No, I haven't," Tom admitted soberly. "If I had any real rights
over you I'm afraid I'd turn you over my knee and spank you, three
times a day, until you gave up the beastly habit."

"You're not going to bounce me, are you?" asked Alf.

"No; I'll keep you here as long as we can use a boy. But, mark
me, Alf, somehow, and before very long, I'm going to break you
from your cigarettes. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I'm
going to do it just the same!"

Alf Drew looked uncommonly solemn, but he said nothing.

For five minutes more they walked on, then came suddenly out from
under a line of trees and stood at the edge of a low cliff, gazing
down in astonishment at the gully below them.

"What on earth-----" began Tom Reade, in amazement.

"Let's scoot!" begged Alf tremulously. "There's going to be some
killing right down there!"

It certainly looked that way.