"I don't want the rushes," said Katy, trying to keep the peace, but her brother paid no heed.
"Did you hear what I said?" he asked again of Jim.
"Yes, I did."
"Well, that was a Captain's Order, and I advise you to obey."
"Do it yourself!" shouted the angry Jim, sitting down by the fire.
Aleck looked at him an instant, saw his sulky, set lips, and then walked over to a willow bush near by. From the centre of this bush he cut a thriving switch, and carefully trimmed off all the twigs and crumpled leaves. It was as pliant and elastic as whalebone. It whistled through the air, when it was waved, like a wire or a thin lash. It would hug the skin it was laid upon, and wrap tightly around a boy's legs, and sting at the tip like a hornet. It wouldn't raise a welt upon the skin, as an iron rod or a rawhide might do, but it would hurt just as bad while it was touching you.
Jim knew all this, and it flashed through his brain, every bit of it, as he saw Aleck trim the switch.
"Better scoot, Youngster," Tug advised, with a grin that was meant kindly, but made Jim madder than ever.
"Please get the rushes," coaxed Katy.