Then he whirled the blacksnake over his head.

They could see Borgson wince as the lash sang above him, and the muscles of his bare back flexed and stood up in knots that glistened under the sunlight.

But the stroke did not fall.
Kamasura had learned the lesson of creating suspense from the very man he was now about to torture.

Harrigan bowed his head in his hands.
"I can't look, McTee," he muttered.

"I'm sick inside--sick--sick!" The last words came in a growl from the hollow of his throat.