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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Going Some"

The barrel rocked upon its scaffold, the curtains swayed
and flapped violently.
"Stand still!"
"It's--it's as c-c-cold as _ice!_"
"Nix! You're overheated, that's all."
"Ow-w-w! Ooo-h-h! I'm dying!"
"It'll do you good."
"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.


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