"He's certainly trainin' him some," said Stover. "Larry, I've got a cramp!" "It did harden him," acknowledged Willie. "What's wrong with you, anyhow?" demanded Glass. "It's not _me_, it's the w-w-water!" Evidently Speed made a frantic lunge here and escaped, for the flow of water ceased. "It froze d-d-during the night. Oh-h! I'm cold!" "Cold, eh? Get onto that rubbing-board; I'll warm you." An instant later the cow-men heard the sounds of a violent slapping mingled with groans. "Go easy, I say! I'll be black and blue all--LOOK OUT!--not so much in one spot! _Ow_!" "Turn over!" "He's spankin' him," said Stover admiringly. Again the spatting arose, this time like the sound of a musketry fusilade, during which Berkeley Fresno entered by the other door. "Don't be so brutal!" wailed the patient to his masseur. "I'm pretty near through. There! Now get up and dress," ordered the trainer, who, pushing his way out through the blankets, halted at sight of the onlookers. "How is he?" demanded Stover. "He--he's trained to the minute. I'm doin' my share, gents." "Sounds that way," acknowledged Stover's companion. "Say, does it look like we'd win?" "Well, he just breezed a mile in forty, with his mouth open." "A mile?" Fresno queried. "Yes, a regular mile--seven thousand five hundred and thirty feet." "Is 'forty' good?" queried Willie. "Good? Why, Salvator never worked no faster. Here he is now--look for yourselves." Speed appeared, partly clad, and glowing with a rich salmon pink. "Good-morning," said Fresno politely. "I came in to see how you liked the cold water." "So that was one of your California jokes, eh? Well, I'll--" Speed moved ominously in the direction of the tenor, but Willie checked him. "We put the ice in that bar'l, Mr. Speed." "You!" Willie and Stover nodded. "Then let me tell you I expect to have pneumonia from that bath." The young man coughed hollowly. "That's the way I caught it once before, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if I'd be too sick to run by Saturday." "Oh no; you don't get pneumony but once." "And, besides," Fresno added, "it wouldn't have time to show up by Saturday." "Get that ice-chest out of my room, that's all; it makes the air damp." "No indeed!" said Still Bill. "We're goin' to see that you use it reg'lar." Then of Glass he inquired: "What do you do to him next?" "I give him a nerve treatment. A jack-rabbit jumped at him this morning and he bolted to the outside fence." Larry forced his employer to a seat, then, securing a firm hold of the flesh, began to discourse learnedly upon anatomy and hygiene, the while his victim writhed. It was evident that the cattle-men were intensely interested. "Well, sir, when I first got him his sploven was in terrible shape," said Larry. "In fact, I never saw such a--" "What was in terrible shape?" ventured the tenor. "His sploven." "Sploven! Is that a locality or a beverage?"