warred with the Master's normal indignation.

Speaking as quietly as he could bring himself to speak, he told
Lady what she had done and what a rotten thing it had been. As he
talked to the utterly crestfallen pup, he was ransacking a drawer
of his desk in search of a dogwhip he had put there long ago and
had never had occasion to use.

Presently, he found it. Pointing to the overthrown trophy, he
brought the lash down across the shrinking collie's loins. He did
not strike hard. But he struck half a dozen times; and with glum
knowledge that it was the only course to take.

Never before in her eight foolish months of life, had Lady known
the meaning of a blow. While the whip-slashes were too light to
do more than sting her well-mattressed back, yet the humiliation
of them seared deep into her sensitive nature. No sound did she
utter. But she cowered flat to the floor; and trembled as if in a
hard chill.

The whipping was over, in a few seconds. Again the Master
explained to her what it had been inflicted for. Then, calling
her to follow, he led the way out of doors and toward the
stables. Stomach to earth, the shamed and miserable Lady writhed
along, close at his heels.

The Master passed the stables and walked toward the brush fire,
where the two men were still at work. But he did not go within a
hundred feet of the fire. Turning, after he had left the stables
behind him, he made for the tool-house.