"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."