“If one of the others should feel like quitting the work they were given to complete first, then they can take the ax from its place in the tool-chest. Better bring it to me now, Ruth.”
As no other alternative was open, she went back to the tree and kicked viciously at the ax. But the blade was still securely embedded in the ground and that made the handle as resistant as an upright post. So all Ruth got for her kick was a suddenly turned toe that felt lame for days afterwards.
“Oh, o-oh! how I hate camping! I’m going home and tell every one I know what a horrid thing this Girl Scout business is! All hard work and—everything! No fun, no rest—just lame backs and broken bones!” Ruth fairly screamed to herself as she sat down and removed the sneaker from the foot that had tried to crack the ax-handle of hickory.
The Captain heard the crying and hurried over to inquire into the cause of it. Ruth was weeping by this time, so sorry did she feel for herself, and her ill-treatment.
“What ever has happened, Ruth, in this perfectly safe spot?”
“O-ooh! I must have stubbed my toe! Oooo-h, I’m afraid it’s broken!” wailed the girl.
Mrs. Vernon saw the ax with its head deep in the ground but she did not dream how Ruth had “stubbed” her toe. She sat down and wiggled the injured member tenderly, then said:
“Oh, no, it’s not broken, only hurt by the collision. It will be all right in a little while,” the Captain replied cheerfully.
But Ruth did not want cheerfulness—she wanted to be told she had to remain as quiet as possible and have others wait on her.
“Pick up the ax and I’ll help you walk over—you can lean upon my arm if you think your toe will feel easier,” suggested Mrs. Vernon.