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THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH THE RUSSIAN ARMY
[Illustration: BARBARA PRESENTED HIM WITH THE ELECTRIC LAMP.
(_See page 150._)]
The Red Cross Girls with the Russian Army
By
MARGARET VANDERCOOK
Author of "The Ranch Girls Series," "Stories
about Camp Fire Girls Series," etc.
Illustrated
The John C. Winston Company
Philadelphia
Copyright, 1916, by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A PEASANT'S HUT IN RUSSIA 7
II. A FORMER ACQUAINTANCE 23
III. GENERAL ALEXIS 37
IV. AN ENCOUNTER 53
V. OUT OF THE PAST 67
VI. THE ARREST 80
VII. A RUSSIAN CHURCH 92
VIII. ANOTHER WARNING 104
IX. THE ATTACK 118
X. MILDRED'S OPPORTUNITY 134
XI. A RUSSIAN RETREAT 148
XII. PETROGRAD 158
XIII. THE NEXT STEP 174
XIV. MILDRED'S RETURN 191
XV. THE WINTER PALACE 206
XVI. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 217
XVII. THE DEPARTURE 236
XVIII. A POEM AND A CONVERSATION 247
XIX. THE REUNION 256
CHAPTER I
_A Peasant's Hut in Russia_
In the last volume of the Red Cross series the four American girls spent
six months in tragic little Belgium. There, in an American hospital in
Brussels, devoted to the care, not of wounded soldiers, but of ill
Belgians, three of the girls lived and worked.
But Eugenia went alone to dwell in a house in the woods because the cry
of the children in Belgium made the strongest appeal to her. The house
was a lonely one, supposed to be haunted, yet in spite of this Eugenia
moved in. There the money of the girl whom her friend had once believed
"poor as a church mouse" fed and cared for her quickly acquired family.
In Eugenia's haunted house were other sojourners furnishing the mystery
of this story and endangering her liberty, almost her life. They were a
Belgian officer and his family whom the Red Cross girl kept in hiding.
Somehow the officer had managed to return to his own country from the
fighting line in Belgium. After securing the papers he desired from the
enemy, by Eugenia's aid, he was enabled to return once more to King
Albert and the Allied armies. Thus Eugenia was left alone to bear the
brunt of the German displeasure after the discovery of her misdeeds. She
was imprisoned in Brussels, and became dangerously ill. Finally, because
she was an American, Eugenia was made to leave the country, rather than
to suffer the punishment which would have been hers had she belonged to
another nationality.
But the four American Red Cross girls also had the companionship of Dick
Thornton during their stay in the once lovely capital of Belgium.
Dick had not recovered the use of his arm, but in spite of this had come
to Brussels to help with the work of the American Relief society.
Here his once friendly relation with Barbara Meade no longer existed.
Because of her change of attitude he apparently grew more attached to
Nona Davis.
However, at the close of the story, when Barbara is taking Eugenia back
to southern France, she and Dick unexpectedly meet aboard a fog-bound
ship. And in the darkness the light finally shines when Dick and Barbara
discover at last that their feeling for each other is stronger than
friendship.
Later, near "the pool of truth" not far from the "Farmhouse with the
Blue Front Door," Eugenia Peabody again meets Captain Henri Castaigne,
the young French officer whom she had once nursed back to health. A
short time afterwards he and Eugenia are married.
Later the three other American Red Cross girls decide to continue their
nursing of the wounded soldiers of the Allied armies in far-off Russia.
One cold October afternoon three American girls were standing in the
stone courtyard of a great Russian fortress near the border line of
Poland.
Situated upon a cone-shaped hill, the fort itself had been built like
the three sides of a square, with the yard as the center. Along the
fourth side ran a cement wall with a single iron gate.
Evidently the three girls were engaged in Red Cross work, for they wore
the familiar service uniforms. One of them had on a heavy coat and cap,
but the other two must have just come out of doors for a few moments.
Indeed, their first words revealed this fact.
"I really don't feel that you should be starting upon this expedition
alone, Nona," Mildred Thornton argued. She was a tall girl, with heavy,
flaxen hair and quiet, steel-gray eyes. She was gazing anxiously about
her, for Russia was a new and strange world to the three American Red
Cross nurses, who had arrived at their present headquarters only a few
weeks before.
Nearly a year had passed since the four friends separated in Belgium.
Then Mildred and Nona Davis had remained at their posts to care for the
homeless Belgian children, while Barbara Meade and Eugenia Peabody
returned to southern France.
Now at the close of Mildred Thornton's speech to Nona, Barbara Meade
frowned. She was poised on one foot as if expecting to flee at any
moment.
"I quite agree with you, Mildred," she protested. "Nona's message was
far too mysterious and vague to consider answering. We must not forget
that we are now in a country and among a people whom we don't understand
in the least. Besides, I promised both Dick and Eugenia that we would be
more careful. How I wish one or the other of them were here to advise
us!"
Shivering, Barbara, who was the youngest and smallest of the girls,
slipped her arm through Mildred's.
A few yards before them sentries were marching slowly up and down, with
their rifles resting on their shoulders, while a double row guarded a
single wide gate. Every now and then a common soldier passed on his way
to the performance of some special duty. Gray and colorless, the
afternoon had a peculiar dampness as if the wind had blown across acres
of melting snow.
Nevertheless in reply to her friends' objections Nona Davis shook her
head.
"Yes, I realize you may both be right, and yet so urgent was my message
that I feel compelled to do what was asked of me. But don't worry about
me, I have the letter with the directions safe in my pocket. Good-by."
Then before either of the other girls could find time to argue the point
a second time, the young southern girl had kissed each of them and
turned away. Later they saw her give the password at the gate and the
sentry allow her to pass out.
Before her lay a stretch of sparsely settled country divided by a wide
and much traveled road. Several miles further along a wide river crossed
the land, but near at hand there were only small farms and meagre clumps
of pine woods.
After a few more words of disapproval, Barbara Meade shrugged her
shoulders, and then she and Mildred re-entered the small curved doorway
of the Russian fort. The left wing was being used as a hospital for the
wounded, while the rest of the great fortification was crowded with
officers and soldiers.
These men were being held in reserve to await the threatened invasion of
the oncoming German hosts. Warsaw had fallen and one by one the ancient
Russian fortifications once deemed invincible had given way before the
German guns. But here at Grovno, under the command of the great General
Alexis, the Russians were to make a final stand.
However, without thinking of anything save personal matters, Nona Davis
first set out along the main traveled road. Now and then she was
compelled to step aside to let a great ox cart go past; these carts
were filled with provisions being brought into the fort. Occasionally a
covered car rattled past loaded with munitions of war, or a heavy piece
of artillery drawn on low trucks. But one would like to have seen a far
greater quantity of supplies of all kinds being brought to the old
fortress. It was an open secret that the supply of munitions was not
what it should be, and yet Grovno was expected to withstand all attacks.
But the young American girl was not reflecting upon the uncertainties of
war during her walk. Neither did she feel any nervousness because of the
newness of her surroundings, for the country in the rear of the
fortifications was chiefly inhabited by Russian women and children and a
few old men.
Nona walked on quickly and with a speed and careless grace that covered
the ground without apparent effort.
She was looking extremely well, but above all other things Nona Davis
appeared supremely interested. For some reason, still unknown to her,
she had been more stirred and excited by the coming into Russia than any
country she had yet seen. She both admired and feared the Russian
people, with their curious combination of poetry and stupidity, of
dullness and passion. Before returning to her own land she meant to try
and understand them better. For somewhere she had read that the future
art of the world was to come forth from Russia. It is the Slavic
temperament and not the Anglo-Saxon that best expresses itself in music
and literature.
Nona's errand this afternoon was a curious and puzzling one, fraught
with unnecessary mystery.
Four days before, a Russian boy about twelve years old had appeared at
the gate of the fortress at Grovno, bearing a note addressed to Miss
Nona Davis. Oddly enough, although the note was written in perfect
English, it was not signed. In spite of this it requested that the
American girl come to a small house about a mile and a half away to see
a former friend.
But who the friend could be, not one of the three girls could imagine.
Yet they scarcely talked of anything else. Nona had no acquaintances in
Russia save the people she had met in connection with her work, and
there was no one in her past whom she could possibly conceive of having
come into Russia as a tourist at such a time.
Therefore it was Mildred Thornton's and Barbara Meade's opinion that
Nona should pay not the slightest heed to such a communication.
Anonymous letters lead to nothing but evil. But in spite of their
objections, here at the first possible opportunity Nona was obeying the
behest. Probably she could not have explained why, for she was too
sensible not to appreciate that possible discomfort and even danger
might lie ahead of her. Perhaps as much as anything she was actuated by
a spirit of sheer adventure.
So it is little wonder that during her walk Nona's thoughts were now and
then engaged with her own affairs. Yet after a little her attention
wandered from the immediate future and she fell to recalling the
history of the past years' experiences, her own and her three friends.
No wonder Barbara was often lonely and homesick for Dick Thornton.
She had become engaged to him on the fog-bound trip she had made with
him in getting Eugenia safely out of Belgium. Remembering Eugenia's
escape, Nona said a short prayer of thankfulness. After her hiding of
the Belgian officer and his family from the German authorities, she
would never have been allowed to leave Belgium unpunished had she not
been an American woman. Remembering the fate of the English girl who
had committed the same crime, Nona appreciated how much they had to be
thankful for.
And now Eugenia was married to Captain Castaigne, the young French
officer. Curious that among the four of them who had come from the
United States to do Red Cross work among the Allies, Eugenia should
be the first to marry! She, a New England old maid, disapproving of
matrimony and, above all, of international marriages!
Yet the wedding had taken place in the previous spring at the little
French "Farmhouse with the Blue Front Door," where the four girls had
spent the most cheerful months since their arrival in Europe for the
war nursing.
Only once had Nona and Mildred deserted their posts in Belgium, where
they had continued Eugenia's work of caring for the homeless Belgian
children. Then they had gone to attend her wedding, but had returned
to Belgium as soon as possible.
But Eugenia and Captain Castaigne had taken scarcely more time for
their own honeymoon.
Soon after the ceremony Captain Castaigne had gone to rejoin his
regiment and three days after Eugenia had become a member of the
staff of a French hospital near her husband's line of trenches.
So it turned out that Barbara Meade was left at the Chateau d'Amélie,
as Madame Castaigne's friend and companion. Dick Thornton boarded in
the village near by, so that he and Barbara had a number of happy
months together.
But Dick had finally decided that he must return to America and had
urged Barbara and his sister Mildred to return with him. Of course,
Nona had been invited to accompany them, but no special pressure had
been brought upon her.
However, Mildred did not feel that her Red Cross work in Europe was
finished, while Barbara refused to desert her friends.
But Barbara had another reason for her decision: she desired Dick to
be alone when he confessed their engagement to his mother and father.
Barbara had little fear of Judge Thornton's disapproval, but felt
reasonably convinced that Mrs. Thornton would be both disappointed
and aggrieved. Certainly she had never hesitated to announce that
she expected her son Dick to make a brilliant match. How could she
then be satisfied with a western girl of no wealth or distinction?
It happened that Dick Thornton also had a private reason for finally
agreeing to Barbara's wish. His experiences in the past two years had
given him a new point of view toward life. No longer was he willing to
be known only as his father's son and to continue being supported by
him. Before Dick married he intended making a position for himself, so
as to be able to take care of his own wife.
Nona also recalled that she was really responsible for their coming into
Russia. It had seemed to her that they must make their Red Cross work
complete by nursing in the largest of the Allied countries.
However, Nona had now to cease her reflections, for she had come to a
place in the road where she had been told to turn aside.
To make sure the girl opened her note and re-read it for probably the
tenth time. Yes, here were the three pine trees, green shadows against
the autumn sky, and here also was the narrow path that began alongside
of them.
After another fifteen minutes' walk Nona discovered that she was
approaching a hut of the poorest character. It was built of logs,
with mud roughly filling up a number of cracks.
Already Nona was learning to understand that the Russian poor are
perhaps the poorest people in the world. This hut was not so
poverty-stricken as many others she had seen; at least, there
were two windows and a front door.
Outside a hungry dog prowled about, showing not the slightest interest
in the newcomer. Yet Nona was vaguely frightened. She stopped for a
moment to reflect. Should she go in or not? The place looked ugly and
depressing and she could see no signs of human beings.
Yet perhaps there was illness inside the house and she had been sent for
to give aid. If that were true she must not hesitate.
As Nona lifted her hand to knock at the door, suddenly it occurred to
her as curious that the note she had received had been written upon
extremely fine paper and in a handwriting which revealed breeding and
education. Yet this peasant's hut suggested neither the one nor the
other.
But Nona was more mystified than fearful since her Red Cross uniform was
her protection, and these were not days when one dared think of
oneself.
She knocked quietly but firmly on the wooden door.
The next moment the heavy bar was slipped aside. Then Nona saw a woman
of about thirty-five, dressed in the costume of a Russian peasant,
standing with both hands outstretched toward her.
"My dear," she began in perfect English, "this is better fortune than I
dreamed, to find you once again, and in Russia, of all countries!"