him, after breakfast. We knew that as soon as he could
travel, he would. But we found that his feeling better wasn't lasting.
Now that the burning of the ginger had worn off, he was as bad as ever.
We were mighty sorry for him, as he turned and twisted, trying to find
an easier position. A stomach-ache like that must have been is surely
hard to stand.

Fitz got busy. Fitzpatrick is pretty good at doctoring. He wants to be a
doctor, some day. And the Red Fox Scouts knew considerable about
first-aids and simple Scouts' remedies.

"What kind of an ache is it, Tom?" queried Fitz. We were too bothered to
call him "Major." "Sharp? Or steady?"

"It's a throbby ache. Keeps right at the job, though," grunted the
major.

"Where?"

"Here." And the major pointed to the pit of his stomach, below the
breast-bone. "It's a funny ache, too. I can't seem to strike any
position that it likes."

"It isn't sour and burning, is it?" asked Red Fox Scout Ward.

"Uh uh. It's a green-apple ache, or as if I'd swallowed a corner of a
brick."

We had to laugh. Still, that ache wasn't any laughing matter.

"Do you feel sick?"

"Just from the pain."

"We all ate the same, and we didn't drink out of that tin can, so it
can't be poison, and it doesn't sound like just indigestion," mused Fitz
to us. "Maybe we ought to give him an emetic. Shall we, Tom?"

"I don't think I need any emetic. There's nothing there," groaned the
major. "Maybe I've caught cold. I guess the cramps will quit. Wish I had
a hot-water bag or a hot brick."

"We'll heat water and lay a hot compress on. That will help," spoke Red
Fox Scout Van Sant. "Ought to have thought of it before."

"Wait a minute, boys," bade Fitz. "Lie still as long as you can, Tom,
while I feel you."

He unbuttoned the major's shirt (the major had taken off his belt and
loosened his waist-band, already) and began to explore about with his
fingers.

"The ache's up here," explained the major. "Up in the middle of my
stomach."

"But is it sore anywhere else?" asked Fitz, pressing about. "Say ouch."

The major said ouch.

"Sore right under there?" queried Fitz.

The major nodded.

We noted where Fitz was pressing with his fingers--and suddenly it
flashed across me what he was finding out. The _ache_ was in the pit of
the stomach, but the _sore spot_ was lower and down toward the right
hip.

Fitz experimented here and there, not pressing very hard; and he always
could make the major