B. M. Bower

“ Don’t shout.”
“Uncle Howard said you’d be packing our clothes. You needn’t pack any of mine, I tell you right now. My war-bag will repose in the bunk-house if you quit the game.”
“Lorena, I hope you will not permit that wilful child to influence you or dictate,” rasped her aunt’s voice behind her. “From what I have seen,” she added dryly, “you are utterly unable to exercise any authority over him whatever. You obey David rather than insisting that David obey you.”
“Aunt Margaret, I wish you’d stop calling me David,” came the child’s clear voice. “I can’t endure it. I’m Skookum.” ”

“ Lorrie, don’t you pack a thing. This is our ranch. I guess we can stay here if we want to.”
“David Burkell, what you need is a good, sound whipping! I shall tell your uncle——”
“If you or Uncle Howard touch me you’ll be sorry. Burns’ll fix you. If he don’t Man-from-nowhere will. I’ve got friends.”
“I think,” said Aunt Margaret indignantly, “that the sooner your Uncle Howard takes you in charge the better. David, if you persist in staring at me like that I shall be compelled to spank you. You and Lorena are going home with me and you may as well calm yourself.” ”

“ Even Uncle Howard stood aghast for a second, and as for Lorrie she was running out to them with scared eyes. “Oh, Skookum, be good!” she implored, fearing much.
Skookum stood mulishly, and only glared defiance.
“What that child needs, Howard, is a good sound whipping,” cried Aunt Margaret, from the window.
“Which you’d better think twice before yuh tackle,” asserted a voice as Burns rode up to them. “Let go that kid, yuh big bully. Pick on somebody your size if yuh hunger for trouble!” ”