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 view of the mansion, so called, and a great part of the courtyard through which the business of the place came and went as through the plaza of a town.

Simon had spoken truly of the improvement Roberto had ordered made in the whipping-post. A cross-piece of new wood had been nailed to the thick cedar post, at about the height of a man's outstretched arms. Two women with baskets of washed clothing were going by; they paused beside the station of degradation, talking earnestly. One of them touched the new wood, her hand reluctant and slow, as if she feared it as a thing that already had the blood of a man stained in its rough grain.

The whipping-post never had been used during Henderson's time on the ranch, Don Abrahan having other more subtle, more cruel means of breaking the soul of an insubordinate man. But the terrors of the thing were fresh in the recollection of all the people; some of them had shown Henderson how the wretched person brought there for chastisement was forced to embrace the thick timber, from which the bark had been removed or worn long ago, the gray lint of the years softening it in melancholy harmony with its unhappy use. Two heavy iron rings were set into the wood where the subject's hands reached as he stood clasping the post with his arms. There his wrists were bound, the skin of his back drawn so tight that the bite of the rawhide parted it with every blow.