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“Do you know what those whips are, Red?” asked Billy.

“Raw hide.”

“Better than that. I’ll get one and show you when we camp.”

So he did that noon.

“Hickory stock, and lash of buffalo hide, tanned, with a buck-skin cracker,” informed Billy. “Eighteen inch stock, eighteen foot lash, and cost eighteen dollars. You ought to see some of these whackers sling a whip! They can stand at the fore wheel and pick a fly off the lead team! Yes, and they can take a chunk of hide out, too—but they don’t often do that.”

Davy curiously examined the bull whip. The stock was short and smooth, the lash was long and braided thickest in the middle, like the shape of a snake. The cracker was about six inches in length, and already had frayed at the tip; and no wonder, for it had often been made to snap like a pistol shot!

“I can swing the thing a little, but it’s sort of long for me,” announced Billy, proceeding to practise with it, until he had almost taken off his own ear, and made the whole mess uneasy. “I’m not going to quit, though,” he added, “until I can throw a bull whip as good as anybody;” and he took the whip back to its owner.