The Scout Hut stood at the end of a short English country lane, at the edge of the village, next to a green and by a wooded gully with a stream trickling along. As dusk falls the parents begin to gather outside, the pack meeting is almost over and the boys will come out soon. 36 mothers wait anxiously, for tonight it is not just mosquitoes that are in the air. Tonight the winners of the Best six contest will be announced, and although six boys will win, 30 will lose.
There will be some tear-stained pillows tonight Mrs Jones observes to Mrs Smith.
I know, poor things she replies, but Im sure they all win something eventually.
This was quite true, for Akela always seemed to ensure that the boys had an equal amount of success and failure, not that any of the boys would have noticed, for such gerrymandering is only successful if done so discreetly that no-one can spot it.
Inside the hut the sweaty little bodies that had entered so smartly two hours earlier were racing around in hot pursuit of each other. The apparent chaos was in fact being carefully controlled, not by a loud adult, but by a tiny boy on a chair. As he called out various colours the cars moved, revved their engines, or braked sharply. Motorists who broke the highway code were fined one point.
The boys were also being controlled by a much more powerful image, a school-teachers strap hung on a hook by the Union flag, for this story is set in a time when corporal punishment is popular. All the boys have felt that strap, given by Akela in front of the assembled pack. The usual method was for the culprit to walk to the front, bend over a small table in front of Akela, and then the strap was applied vertically to each buttock in turn. In this way all the boys had a clear view of the bottom being tanned, and Akela could see the audience. By reaching forward the tails of the strap could be made to extend beyond the shorts of the naughty recipient, causing a red imprint on the bare thigh, a technique Akela always employed. Knowing this, the wise cub would pull his shorts up very tightly before bending over, so that afterwards they could be lowered to hide the bruise. The boy was, unwittingly, also ensuring that his seat got a well-deserved sting from the bulk of the leather, which is not as effective when applied to loose cloth. Two slaps, one on each cheek, made most boys respect the strap enough to avoid it, but did not usually bring tears. Crying meant weakness for these boys. Akela knew that tears meant hurt pride, and his cubs were the pride of the village. All boys in the pack, however, expected to cry if more than two slaps were awarded, for the next available number was six. In this case, pride was retained by holding position, and not rubbing afterwards. Boys, it seems, can make up a set of rules for everything.
Pack, Sit Snapped Akela.
The 36 boys hurtled to their place and dropped to the floor. A swathe of arms and legs spun and folded, and then suddenly there was total silence, and calm. Each boy was identically positioned upon the floor, legs crossed, arms folded, sitting up straight, and mouth closed, all facing Akela. The boys sat in a solid square, six rows of six, on spots painted on the floor, coloured for each six. Sixers at the front, followed by the Seconder then cubs in order, newest at the back. There was a natural progression to the front as older boys moved up to scouts. Akela never lost a single cub, and entry into this pack was a real privilege in the village. The boys were selected by Akela in an informal, but crucial interview. To fit in the boy needed to have spirit yet accept discipline. In this pack boys were expected to obey without question when it mattered, but get up to mischief when possible. Boys who knew the difference made good cubs - those who did not, or would not take punishment, did not belong.
Each boy knew the reason for this command to sit, and every one wanted to please their hero, the issuer of the command. Secretly, each one thought that they were his favourite cub, and would have punched any boy who insulted him, but such loyalty is only possible when there really is no favourite.
As you know Akela commenced, the best Six competition finishes tonight
The 36 little faces did not need reminding. Nor did they need telling that this was the Competition to beat all competitions. The prize was a once in a lifetime (or so it seemed at that age) trip to Birchwood Cub Camp for a special weekend.
All of the sixes have worked very hard, and it has been hard to choose the winners Akela declared
This they knew as well, because every boy had been earning badges, polishing shoes, and running errands non-stop. Each week the boys had brought in certificates for chores done at home, models that they had made from rubbish, and various other time-consuming tasks.
The excitement was getting to be too much for Timothy, who - at eight - was one of the youngest boys in the pack, and the smallest member of red six. He had been in the cubs for three months, and was mesmerised. Timid Tim, as he was known, was also known to have a large but weak bladder. Tim released the entire contents into his pants, the hot liquid gushed to the front then filtered right through his underwear. Not a drip appeared, however, and Tim was suddenly grateful to his mum.
Tims mum had insisted that Tim wear his protective pants tonight, thinking that he might forget himself when the results were announced. Tim hated them, even though the protective garment was cleverly disguised as ordinary white Y front pants. The pants were loose fitting, but the elastic legs were tight to prevent leaks. The thicker material and rustle of the plastic surface however gave the secret away, as did the bulge from an absorbent pad inside.
Tonight Tim had refused to wear them, partly because he had already changed from his school clothes into Cub uniform when mum had appeared at the bedroom door with the garment in her hand, and was a bit lazy. Tims first refusal to his mum had brought a sharp warning, and when he snatched the pants from his mums hand she was further annoyed. Sulkily the boy removed his grey shorts and ordinary white underpants, but left his socks & shoes in place.
The final straw for mum had come when Tim ripped the protective pants whilst pulling them over his shoes. Mum sat on the bed and grabbed her wayward son. Already bare from waist to knees, mum had no hesitation in dumping Tim across her lap and slapping his bottom as hard as she could manage. Tim always got a good spanking when mum was rattled, and now she was venting her anger at the precise moment that the sin had occurred. It took over 30 slaps before mum calmed down, by which time Tim had progressed through shock & surprise to pain & pleading, then frantic wriggling and finally to capitulation. Tims movements and mums haste meant that a number of slaps landed on Tims legs, causing intense stinging and subsequent evidence. Tears rolled down his cheeks, buttocks glowed with intense heat, and heart hung heavy. Sorrow came as the last slap landed.
The protective pants were damaged beyond repair, and mum now had to use the nappy. After the spanking Tim did not care what the other boys might think, and he lay on the bed, face-down whilst mum got the items ready. Tims nappies, plastic pants, pins, and cream were kept in a drawer by his bed, and were worn every night after supper. By morning, the soft white material would be damp, sometimes dripping wet. Tims mum had decided to give up trying to achieve nocturnal continence, at least until the boy was another year older.
Tonight the cream liquidised on Tims reddened skin, and was soon rubbed in. Mum took his shoes off, then fitted the nappy over his boiling bottom, holding it in place with two pins, one either side American style, which is more suitable for babies that can walk. Finally the plastic pants were pulled up. The cream had helped to cool Tims skin, but now the nappy and plastic pants insulated the furnace, and the temperature rose again. However, the comfort provided by his nappy, soft cloth as well as psychological soothing, countered the increase in pain.
As Tim replaced his rather small & somewhat outgrown grey shorts he felt happy, loved. The shorts were tight when worn over normal underwear, but now they were stretched almost to bursting by the absorbent cloth. Tim could not do up the zip, and mum had to pull it up whilst he stood in front of her, sucking his tummy in to make room in his shorts.
Suddenly Tim flung his arms around mums neck, and buried his face into her bosom. Mum sat on the bed for the second time tonight, swung his legs onto her knees, and the pair of them sat in parental embrace for a full 5 minutes, Tim sobbing apologies the whole time.
At Cubs when the boys were inspected, Tims nappy was blatant. The grey shorts were stretched taught across his buttocks, and the bulge at the front was unmistakable. Tims plastic pants could be seen protruding from the legs of his shorts whenever he sat down or bent over, and so could the obvious evidence of his spanking - numerous bright red hand-prints on the tops of his thighs, and a red face - especially around the eyes. Not one boy said an unkind word. Some had been punished with nappies in the past, and knew the embarrassment. Most thought of Tim as a baby anyway, and boys are usually kind to children much younger than themselves. Others simply did not care, for Tim was a good friend; the nickname of Timid was not really appropriate as Tim could be quite a character. Besides, tonight was THE night to be on best behaviour, no cub wanted to lose the prize for their six with a cheap jibe.
Several boys had been noticed staring at Tim and Akela was not one to leave things to chance. Tim also had the last laugh, because apparently during the inspection he had broken one of the many rules which all the cubs had learned by trial & error, although on this occasion Tim was a little surprised. When called out for a strapping, his nappy had been quite obvious, and so were the plastic pants extending beneath the ends of his very brief shorts. Akela laid on two wicked strokes, though on this occasion he leaned back slightly, to ensure that the tails of the strap stayed in contact with those short trousers. The nappy had absorbed the impact of the strap completely even though Akela had appeared to swing with venom, and Tim smirked as he returned to his place. The watching pack were impressed by the advantages of a nappy, and sympathetic to Tims already reddened legs. Akela had not been fooled, for he knew how to turn misfortune into advantage, and had just done so for Tim. This little staged event was much more convincing than ten minutes of talk. The nappy was no longer the subject of any discussion.
When Tim had left home his bladder had felt empty, but throughout the pack meeting he had wanted to go to the toilet. There were toilets available, but the poor boy did not dare tamper with his nappy. He had hoped to keep control until he got home, but 2 hours is a long time to wait, crossed legged or not. Last year he had been caned for removing his nappy in bed, with inevitable consequences, and the three strokes from his dad had made a great impression, the memory lasting longer than the stain on his mattress. Ironically, if Tim had worn his ordinary underwear, or the easy to lower protective pants, he might not have wet himself. As it was the damp nappy served to convince mum that she had been right to take precautions.
In front of Tim sat the twins, Andrew and Matthew. They were almost nine years old, and full of mischief. Tonight, however, they sat like little angels, for their father had seen fit to deal with them. Most of the cubs would be cared for (and punished) by their mothers in that eventful period between end of school and start of evening activities. The twins were different. Their father was self-employed and worked from home. He arranged his day so that he was able to collect his boys from school, and see to their needs until his wife returned from her job in town.
Tonight the twins had been expectedly lively, running in and out of the house, wrestling on the beds, and generally letting off steam. This was acceptable until one of them (we never found out who) had got too rough. Poking led to pushing, then punching. Within seconds a full-blown fight was underway, and in the commotion a number of toys were stood on & broken. Dad was fuming, tempers in this house were all short. When the fight was broken up it was decided that the boys would get smacked legs, although the boys felt that they had not had much of an input into the decision. Dad chose to smack the lads simultaneously, normal procedure when it could not be established who had started the battle.
Both boys were still wearing their school uniforms, white shirt with striped school tie, red pullover, Bermuda length grey shorts, and knee high socks with two red stripes. Dad pulled the shorts up their legs, until half the thigh was exposed. The twins stood side by side, each with his arms tightly folded, and dad used both hands to slap the four bare thighs randomly. This slapping was conducted slowly at first, each slap carefully aimed at the spot just above the knee, but the pace quickened as the smacking proceeded. The boys yelped at each blow, and after a while began to lift their legs after each impact. Soon they were dancing, shaking each leg and hopping , still tightly gripping their elbows with their hands, and crying loudly. Still the smacking went on, the boys begging and pleading for it to end, and faces soaked in tears, but never relaxed their folded arms.
Finally dad stopped, the boys were told it was over, and instantly they grabbed their sore legs. How comical dad thought as they ran on the spot, both boys bending over, squeasing their thighs, and taking tiny steps. The boys lifted each foot a few inches off the floor, then replaced it rapidly. Dad smiled as he listened to the drumming noise made by these little shoes landing on the tiled floor, he thought it sounded like a bee in flight. For ten minutes the duo rubbed and rubbed at their smacked legs, sometimes sitting down, but mainly stood up, leaning forwards, and jogging rapidly. Then the mess was cleared up, and tea was served.
We might wonder how they had managed to keep their arms folded throughout what was a most severe punishment, the answer is from bitter experience. The boys have of course been smacked many times before, and usually on the legs. From an early age they learned that to put your hands in the way would lead to something much worse, the martinet. If they did attempt to block a slap, or run off, then it was over a knee to receive a good whipping from that little French invention. The martinet was a short whip, wooden handle about 12 inches long, and nine leather strips beyond. When slashed across a bare thigh the pain is incredible, it stings so much worse than a hand slap, and leaves tiny weals that burn for hours.
Both boys have experienced its venom, and are desperate to never feel it again. In the household it is kept in reserve, only to be used for the most serious offences or refusing punishment. Dad got it on a business trip to Paris some years earlier, and has plans to make more use of it when the boys are older, for now he is content with the effects of his slapping. When the boys changed into cub uniform they looked at each others legs in amazement. The many, many handprints had merged into a swollen patch which extended from the top of each sock to half-way up each thigh. On the right leg the bruises went almost fully round, whilst on the left leg only the rear was marked. All four legs burned with a curious throbbing, and the left legs itched.
Once into cub shorts the boys realised the full consequence, for their cub shorts were much shorter and wider than their school ones. The boys legs looked very odd, pale almost white at the top and front, but crimson at the lower part of the rear. When they sat cross legged on the floor the swollen tissue was compressed at the back of their knees, and caused a further stinging pain. During the games, and when sitting on chairs, the boys would frequently stoop to rub at their legs, and this kept them quiet and on best behaviour all night.
James was the sixer of red six, and sat proudly at the head of his line. James was the oldest and most experienced boy in the pack, and thoroughly enjoyed the scene. For James, this competition had been the only thing in his life for two months. Every waking moment had been spent dreaming up ways to earn more points, and each week he could hardly wait to get to cubs to produce his wares. James would be eleven next month, so this was his last chance to lead a winning six before moving on to scouts.
He was easily the largest boy in the pack, almost double the height of Tim, and quite muscular. Puberty would still be two years away, but James was an athletic boy with a build more common in teenagers. In cub uniform he looked very colourful, with almost every available badge already sewn onto his now fading jersey. James took a great pride in his appearance, shoes polished to Horse-guards standard, kneckerchief ironed to perfection, socks pulled up with ribs perfectly straight, and garters carefully positioned on the outside of each calf muscle.
James had recently grown at the hip, and had needed new shorts for cubs. His mum had been reluctant to buy them as he was leaving soon, but James had convinced her. The boy never pestered or pleaded, he was far to well-behaved for that type of persuasion. No, James used logic. He had said that he would wear his new shorts to school as well as cubs. This in itself was not remarkable, until one learns that James had been very bright throughout his school career, and had been put into a class one year ahead of his peer group. Last September the 11 year old children had moved up to the secondary school, and James had moved with them. The primary headteacher had suggested it, and the secondary school were delighted to have a potential prodigy. Good Publicity is important for schools, and the chance to have a pupil who might go on to great things was not to be missed.
In primary school shorts were compulsory, but in secondary school very few boys wore them. Those that did usually did so only for a few weeks as a punishment or because of strong parental opinion (a small number of mothers recognised that their teenage boys were better behaved if kept in short pants). James had been allowed long trousers because his mum did not want him standing out, he was after all much younger than the rest of the class, and she did not want him becoming the attention of any bully.
In the event James was easily able to win the friendship of almost every body in the secondary school, and any potential bully was put off by James large gang of supporters, including the head boy & rugby captain. There had been a few problems though, for although James was large and intelligent he was still a junior boy when at play, and some of his amusements had become rather irritating. Jamess work had began to deteriorate, and his form-teacher had suggested to James & his mum that he might benefit from a spell in shorts.
So when he asked his mum for new shorts for cubs, he was ready for her objections with a powerful offer. The shorts would be worn at school until they wore out. Mum agreed, and bought two pairs of the finest quality short trousers, which would last until the lad was nearly fourteen, but that is another story. So now James sat, looking immaculate in brand new shorts and scrubbed knees. His yellow hair combed neatly, and gleaming face hiding a secret. For despite his new shorts, James had not improved completely in school.
Although bright, he did not take to Latin. James could see no value in it, and as a consequence did not listen diligently. The Latin teacher had issued several warnings, but James did not heed them. So this morning James had been kept behind during Morning Break, and had received three stokes of the cane on his new shorts. For James this was a new experience, at home he hardly ever got into trouble and had not been spanked for over a year. At school he had been put into detention once, and given lines to write, but never before had he felt a cane. His status as a young boy was of course known to all the staff, and perhaps they had been a little bit more tolerant of his minor sins than they would have been with the older children. Today he got his initiation into senior school punishment, and what a surprise. James had bent over a desk as the teacher ordered, and held on tightly to the legs. The first stroke was delivered across the taut seat of his new shorts, and James had leapt up at once, tears flowing, hands rubbing, and gasping for air.
The teacher was aware of the shock to a new pupil of the first stroke, and calmly ordered him down again. James was told that he might rise after each stroke to rub, but must not swear or run away. The next time he was caned, however, he must stay down until told. James did not appreciate the kindness he was being shown, the pain in his rump had his full attention at the moment. After a minute James bent over again, and settled nervously across the desk. The second stroke was an absolute beauty, at least from the teachers point of view- a powerful thud into the left buttock, instantly followed by a whipping cut on the right cheek. James literally rose vertically off the desk, screamed in agony, then collapsed into a foetal position on the floor. Curled up he sobbed and rubbed his rear, crying openly. The teacher waited patiently then ordered him back into position.
Lowering his body back over that desk took a great deal of courage, and it was several minutes before he got down again. The third and final stroke was not as hard, but aimed very carefully at the hem of James shorts. The stroke was perfect, again, and the boy ran around the room as soon as the cane made contact. He had completed three laps of the desk before he was able to bring himself under control, then stood weeping in front of the Latin teacher, hands to the rear, and face down.
When dismissed James went straight to the toilets, and washed his face. The bell for the next lesson soon sounded, and he was the last to join the line at the door. Several of his friends asked how it felt, and they stared in awe at the stripe which was just visible on his thighs. All day James sat gingerly on his chair, and at home his mum spotted the bruising as soon as he hung up his coat.
It looks like you will be needing short pants for some time she said they clearly have not worked yet. Come here and drop your shorts, let me see the damage
James had two livid weals on the crown of his bottom, and a lesser red stripe across the tops of his thighs. The larger weals were about an inch apart, the lower one being much wider, and probably resulting from the second stroke. All three strokes were angled at about 10 degrees to the horizontal, reflecting the height of the Latin teacher.
Mum, James asked can you get a cane for me at home, please? I was most embarrassed today, crying and creating. The big boys can take six strokes without moving, and I felt so ashamed that I couldnt take even one. If you were to cane me more often, I might not be such a baby next time I get it at school.
Despite his occasional behaviour, James knew what he needed, and was determined to succeed.
If thats what you want, Dear she smiled Ill get one tomorrow. Of course, you will have to tell me when youve been naughty, or Ill never get to use it.
Thanks mum, and to start with I did not eat my cabbage at lunch today. That should be worth two strokes.
Four said mum Two for wasting food and two for daring to tell me how many you need. You can have them on Saturday night before bed-time, when these bruises have gone down. Now pull up your pants and shorts, its cubs tonight and you dont want to be late.
Sitting at the head of his six, James was anxious as well as uncomfortable. The cane weals were right on the crown, sitting on a chair was not easy but cross-legged on the floor was much worse. The rest of the cubs had been most impressed by the cane stripe, very few of the younger boys had ever seen a caning, which was normally reserved for teenagers. James rose even higher in their rating, and was very much the big brother to be worshipped.
The final two members of red six were Tony and Terry. Tony, aged 10½, was the seconder, so sat just behind James. Terry was his younger brother, just nine. They lived with their grandmother, their parents had been tragically killed in a car accident when they were babies, and grandad had died shortly after. So granny was left to raise the boys, and took to this, her second brood, as keenly as most older women would.
Granny was of the old school, and took no nonsense from either boy. Many a time she would smack a little bottom without warning, just swipe at the seat of the pants, then tell the recipient what he had done to deserve it. Both boys loved her dearly, but love is no deterrent when there is fun to be had, and both boys were full of spirit. Tony was quite plump, granny spoiled the boys with sweets and pudding, but kept them smartly attired in the best clothes. Her husbands pension and her sons insurance had been very generous, and she had a number of state allowances as foster parent to the boys. Granny, in fact, was rather wealthy.
Tony was also a bit cheeky, and granny had grown tired of smacking his fat bum whenever he back-talked her. So granny had bought a strap. It was a scottish school strap, and had cost a lot of money compared to a cane. The strap was about two feet long, three inches wide, had three fingers at the end, and over half an inch thick. Buried inside each finger was a small flat piece of lead. Granny had travelled to a shop in Edinburgh to buy it, and had taken the boys with her. The shop owner had shown them the full range of leather goods for bad boys, and granny had tried out several on Tony. The boy had been bent over a trestle in the shop - bare bottomed - granny applied a stoke from the various straps on offer, and together the owner & granny watched the results.
Some of the smaller straps were tried first, but granny was not able to swing with much force, and the shopkeeper had suggested the most powerful strap. They developed a technique of swinging it vertically, using gravity to aid the strap, and Tony had verbally confirmed the effectiveness. Terry, who was much smaller than Tony, had sat stunned at this procedure, completely terrified by the sight of the strap and reactions of his older brother.
The shopkeeper enquired if granny would like anything for the wee bairn and produced a set of leather paddles. The set had four sizes, and they all hung on a beautifully varnished wooden rack. Granny fell in love with it, and bought it without hesitation. There was enough space in the centre of the rack to hang the big strap, and later it was mounted in the hallway, clearly visible to all callers at the house.
When granny intended punishing a boy, she sent him to the hall to fetch one of the instruments, which had been given names by the boys. Punishment, always bare bottomed, was then administered either across her knee (usual for Terry) or bent over the seat of foot stool (usual for Tony).
The big strap was called just that, and granny would quieten the boys in the supermarket with phrases like, Do that again and youll get the big strap. Other shoppers would turn and smile at the boys, but most times granny used one of the paddles.
Terry got very familiar with the smallest paddle, which was appropriate because he had named it Terrier. This paddle was about six inches circular with a stiff handle, rather like a table tennis bat. It was the thickest of the paddles and very stiff. The name terrier referred, Granny thought, to its small size, loud bark, and nasty bite. The boys knew it was because of its habit of charging down small holes. Nine slaps was Terrys usual dose, randomly given on one or both buttocks, and he cried every time.
The largest paddle was rectangular, 12 inches by three, very thin and supple, and the boys called it bendy. Granny did not use it much, but when she did she applied it to the boys legs, which it curled around most wickedly.
Dagger was the narrowest paddle, about fifteen inches long and an inch wide. Tony got used to the narrow strip of pain that it provided, and granny became quite fond of promising daggers at bedtime.
But the paddle which both boys hated was colander. This was half an inch thick, several strips of leather bonded and stitched together, oval in shape, about ten inches long and four inches at the widest point. The striking surface was perforated by twelve circular holes, each around ¾ inch diameter. The holes enabled it to fly through the air, and on impact skin would be pushed up the holes causing a circular bruise as well as the overall sting. The round pinch-marks hurt terribly, and the boys hated colander. Granny would sometimes use it to put a single smack onto each thigh, the resulting pattern of rings would take three or more days to fade. If she was particularly cross the poor boy might get a dozen on the bum, and that really brought the house down.
This evening, before going to cubs, both boys had been spanked. Tony had been getting changed when granny noticed a skid-mark in his underpants, clear evidence of not wiping his bottom properly. This was a frequent cause of anger for granny, and his usual nine smacks with Terrier were followed by three swipes on each thigh from dagger. When dressed in his cub shorts Terry looked very smart, and showed red & white lines from hem to knees. Tony had been quietly hiding in his room since coming home from school, and shuffled papers when granny brought him some lemonade. Tony said that he was doing some homework, but granny insisted upon seeing it, and found 200 lines I must not spit on girls Granny was furious, not only had Tony got into trouble at school for a dirty habit, he had concealed the truth about his punishment. Six strokes with the big strap on his bare bottom were applied for the spitting, and five smacks on each thigh with colander for lying to granny. Tony sobbed for an hour as he sat finishing the lines, tears smudging the ink. At school, his teacher was delighted to see the blotchy work, for it told a wonderful story.
So neatly sitting on the floor, every boy in red six had stinging legs tonight, and four of them had sore bottoms as well. Akela had noticed this, and it tipped the balance. Green six were equal in points, but their sixer was a Malcolm, who never got into trouble at home or school. Some thought he was too good to be true, others wondered if he was sneaky - egging others on to mischief but not getting involved himself. The fact is Malcolm was terrified of punishment, and as a result never lived. He had come through the pack like a shadow, progressing up the line to become sixer almost by default. The boys in his six were just as lively as red six, and would have won easily if Malcolm had inspired them to work together. But Malcolm lacked true leadership, he was not brave enough.
James of Red six had worked tirelessly for himself and his six, and so, on balance Akela chose Reds to go to camp. The few words spoken brought six smiles and sixty tears. Every one of the thirty disappointed boys held back their emotions until after grand howl, when they stood in a circle, buried their heads in their caps, and sobbed through prayers. Immediately dismissed, the boys dashed for the door, and comforting arms of their waiting mothers. Within an hour every little head was flat on its pillow, thumbs in mouths and sorrows fading rapidly.
For the boys in red six, however, sleep was not an option. They were going to camp with their beloved Akela. Just them. And they were going to the woods to build fires, hunt rabbits, play hide & seek, and climb trees. Each one expected to have a jolly time, and each quite certain that at some stage during the weekend he would get a spanking or two, for boys cannot resist adventure, and Akela cannot refuse to smack them when caught.