say ouch, for the one spot.

"I believe he's got appendicitis," announced Fitz, gazing up at us.

"It looks that way, sure," agreed Red Fox Scout Van Sant. "My brother
had appendicitis, and that's how they went to work on him."

"My father had it, is how I knew about it," explained Fitz.

"Aw, thunder!" grunted the major. "It's just a stomach-ache." He hated
to be fussed with. "I'll get over it. A hot-water bag is all I need."

"No, you don't," spoke Fitz, quickly--as Red Fox Scout Ward was stirring
the fire. "Hot water would be dangerous, and if it's appendicitis we
shan't take any risks. They use an ice-pack in appendicitis. We'll put
on cold water instead of hot, and I'm going to give him a good stiff
dose of Epsom salts. I'm afraid to give him anything else."

That sounded like sense, except that the cold water instead of the hot
was something new. And it was queer that if the major's appendix was
what caused the trouble the ache should be off in the middle of his
stomach. But Fitz was certain that he was right, and so we went ahead.
The treatment wasn't the kind to do any harm, even if we were wrong in
the theory. The Epsom salts would clean out most disturbances, and help
reduce any inflammation. (Note 64.)

The major was suffering badly. To help relieve him, we discussed which
was worse, tooth-ache or stomach-ache. The Red Foxes took the tooth-ache
side and we Elks the stomach-ache side; and we won, because the major
put in his grunts for the stomach-ache. We piled a wet pack of
handkerchiefs and gauze on his stomach, over the right lower angle,
where the appendix ought to be; and we changed it before it got warmed.
The water from the creek was icy cold. We kept at it, and after a while
the major was feeling much better.

And now he began to chafe because he was delaying the march. It was
almost noon. The two renegade recruits had not come along yet. They
might not come at all; they might be looking around for Sally, without
sense enough to read the sign. But the major was anxious to be pushing
on again.

"I don't think you ought to," objected Fitz.

"But I'm all right."

"You may not be, if you stir around much," said Red Fox Scout Ward.

"What do you want me to do? Lie here for the rest of my life?" The major
was cross.

"No; but you ought to be carried some place where you can have a doctor,
if it's appendicitis."

"I don't believe it is. It's just a sort of colic. I'm all right now, if
we go