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. Ted thrashed the Indian until his yells of agony and his struggles ceased, then threw him aside. "Go back to your people and tell them that you are no longer fit to be chief. That you have been whipped with a quirt by a white boy until you cried. It is you who are the squaw," said Ted, riding back to his party. CHAPTER X. SILVER FACE. As Ted released the badly punished young Indian and rode back to where the boys were waiting for him, Crazy Cow painfully raised himself to a sitting position in his saddle. But the pain was too great, and he slowly and painfully slid to the ground. But the backs of his legs were so seamed with welts that he could not walk. He was, indeed, an object for pity, but he had been defeated, and not only that, but had been whipped on the most shameful spot, in Indian fighting, and his friends would have none of him. When he looked toward them for sympathy they only pointed the finger of scorn at him, and laughed. Now Ted rode out in front of the boys, and, raising his voice, said to the Indians: "Go back to your village. Do not come to my ranch again. Next time it will be something worse than quirts with which we fight, and dead men, instead of squaws with sore legs, will be the result. Go!" The old medicine man turned his pony toward the mountains, and in a guttural voice gave the command. Without a word, and without looking back, the Indians started on their way, Crazy Cow following dejectedly on foot, leading his pony. He had been conquered and humiliated, but his heart burned with hatred for the young white chief who had been the cause of it. When the Indians were out of sight, Ted returned to the boys. "Well, that's over for the present," he said. "Yes, but we'll have trouble with those fellows later, you may be sure," said Ben. "Look out for a ball or a knife in the back from Crazy Cow."