So we moved back from the trail, around a bend of the creek. The major could scarcely walk, he was so doubled over with cramps; Scout Ward and I stayed by to help him. But there was not much that we could do, in such a case. He leaned on us some, and that was all. He tried lying on his side, while we unpacked Sally; and then we got him upon a blanket, with a roll for a pillow. Red Fox Scout Van Sant hustled to the creek with a cup, and fixed up a dose. "Here," he said to the major, "swallow this." "What is it?" "Ginger. It ought to fix you out." So it ought. The major swallowed it--and it was so hot it made the tears come into his eyes. In a moment he thought that he did feel better, and we were glad. We went ahead with breakfast, but he didn't eat anything, which was wise. A crampy stomach won't digest food and then you are worse. We didn't hurry 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.