"Don't you do that," cried Dick, who never abused Spraddle himself, and
couldn't stand it to see any one else, particularly a dirty Indian, beat
his pet.
"White boy shut up, or Pokopokowo beat him plenty," growled the Indian.
"If you dare beat me, Ted Strong will fix you when he gets you," said
Dick hotly.
But the Indian only laughed, and continued to beat poor Spraddle over
the face, to the pain and anger of Dick, who, however, realized that he
was absolutely helpless.
But Pokopokowo was soon to be paid for his cruelty, and by poor Spraddle
himself.
Spraddle, stung by the blows, was stumbling along at a good pace over
the bowlders that lay in his way, with the Indian urging him faster all
the time.
Suddenly there was a great heave. Spraddle went down, almost turning a
somersault, as his tired feet struck a larger bowlder than he had
encountered before.
The Indian, who was dozing again, shot over his head as if from a
catapult, and Dick went sprawling forward over the saddle onto the neck
of the pony.
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