"Have a little sense. If you're thirsty, hit the sink." Glass still maintained his hold, mumbling indistinctly: "Water's the worst thing in the world. Wait! I'll get you some."
He stepped into the bunk-room, to return an instant later with a cup half full. "Rinse out your mouth, and don't swallow it all."
"All! There isn't that much. Ugh! It's lukewarm. I want a bucket of ice-water—ice-water!"
"Nothing doing! I won't stand to have your epictetus chilled."
"My what?"
"Never mind now. Off with them clothes, and get under that shower. I guess it'll feel pretty good to-day."
Speed obeyed instructions sullenly, while his trainer, reclining in the cosey-corner, uncorked the second bottle. From behind the blanket curtains where the barrel stood, the former demanded:
"What did you mean by saying I'd have to run again this afternoon?"
"Starts!" said Glass, shortly.
"Starts?"