“Always willing to do his share of the work. You never knew him to shirk, or get a cramp in the stomach,” and as Giraffe said this he cast a severe look over in the direction of Davy Jones, who turned red in the face, gave a little uneasy laugh, and hastened to exclaim:
“Oh! that joke is ancient history now, Giraffe, I’ve reformed since I joined the patrol.”
Some years before, the Jones boy had really been subject to violent cramps that gave him great pain, and doubled him up like a jack-knife, or a closed hinge. He was always an object of pity at such times, and had frequently been allowed to go home from school because of his affliction.
But the time came when the teacher observed that these convenient “cramps” never arrived on a rainy day; and also that Davy recovered in a miraculous fashion, once he reached the open air. And when Davy was simply allowed to retire to a cloak room, to let the “spasm” pass, instead of being started homeward, it was noticed that his complaint quickly disappeared.
So on joining the scouts, Davy, whose dislike for exerting himself had been his weakness, began to have those strange “cramps” whenever some hard work was to be done.
But trust boys for noticing that the pains never, never attacked him when a meal was awaiting attention. And Davy was soon made so ashamed of himself that he did actually “reform,” as he now declared.
“Well,” Smithy went on to say, “it’s some satisfaction, anyhow, to know the poor old elephant is so well fixed, if he does have to pass a night or two in the woods alone.”
“He evidently took a lot of grub and matches along,” said Davy.
“And if he has a fire, he can do without his blanket,” Allan observed.
“While we’re pitying him in this way, how do we know but what it may be the best thing in the world for Bumpus,” suggested Thad.