otash with a small camel's hair
brush brought for the purpose.

"Little I care about that, so long as it does the business," replied
Bumpus; and so the amateur doctor continued to dab each bite with the
lavender-colored fluid until the patient looked as though he might be
some strange freak intended for a dime museum.

Of course that was too much for the other boys. They snickered behind
their hands, and presently broke out into a yell that awoke the echoes.
Bumpus only nodded his head at them, for he was a very good-natured
fellow.

"Laugh away and welcome, boys," he remarked, grimly. "Feels better
already, Thad, and if the stuff will only do the business I don't care
what happens. Besides, the fellows must have their fun. But they
wouldn't think it a joke if any of them had climbed up, looking for a
honey pot, and dropped through the rotten stuff that covered the hole in
the top of that stump."

"Well," said Step-hen, "if it had been our monkey, now. He'd have had a
great time climbing out; but Davy could have done it; he's more at home
in a tree than on the ground."

He said this because the Jones boy was as nimble as an ape when he found
an opportunity to show off his gymnastics; he dearly loved to hang from
a limb by his toes, and carry on like a circus athlete or trapeze
performer.

"Do we make a start now?" asked Bob White; "exactly fifteen minutes
spent, suh, in rescuing our comrade in distress."

"Are you able to walk with us, Bumpus?" asked Thad.

"Oh! I guess I can amble along somehow," responded the fat boy; "but
please detail a couple of scouts to keep near me, in case I begin to
swell again. I'm sorry we haven't got a rope along; because I'd feel
safer if I had one wrapped around me right now."

"Where's my campaign hat?" burst out Step-hen just then; "anybody seen
it layin' around loose? I declare to goodness it's queer how _my_ things
always seem to disappear. I often think there must be some magic about
it."

"Huh! the only trouble is you never keep a blessed thing where it
belongs," declared Davy, in scorn. "Now, there's Smithy, who goes to
just the opposite extreme; he's too particular, and wastes time, which a
true scout should never do. The rest of us try to be half-way decent;
and you notice we seldom lose anything. There's your old hat right now,
just where you flung it when we dropped down here."

"Oh! thank you, Davy; perhaps I am just a little careless, as you say;
but all the sa