Riata

“You double-crossing devil,” the young man growled. “[…] Hereafter you'll trot ahead of me at the end of a riata, while I keep you on the jump with a four-horse whip. Right now you're scattering my dunnage from hell to breakfast, […]”

A few blocks from the capitol we stripped him, cut off everything hanging between his legs, then fixed him with a riata and dragged him up and down Congress.