“The young fellow fairly rose under the fearful blow and would have cried out; but in a second Little L rushed up to him, took his head in both hands and smothered it against himself.
“‘Don’t scream,’ he whispered to him; ‘don’t scream, else the whole affair will get out!’
“Big L swallowed down the cry and choked and groaned to himself.
“Long K again lifted up the cane, and a second swish resounded through the hall.
“The body of the culprit actually writhed on the table, so that the cadets were scarcely able to hold him down by his hands and feet. Little L had wrapped both arms around the head of his brother, and was crushing it with convulsive force against himself. His eyes were wide open, his face like the plaster on the wall, his whole body was quivering.
“Throughout the hall was a stillness like death, so that one could only hear the wheezing and puffing of the victim whom the little brother was smothering against his breast.
“All eyes were hanging on the little fellow; we all had a feeling that we could not look on at it any longer.
“When, therefore, the third blow had fallen and the whole performance repeated itself just as before, a general excited whisper followed: ‘Now, it is enough—strike no more!’
“Long K, who had become quite red from the exertion, was raising his arm again for the fourth blow, but with one accord, three or four threw themselves between him and Big L, tore the rattan from his grasp, and thrust him back.
“The execution was at an end.