ON THE RAW EDGE OF NO MAN'S LAND
"Sit down, Mademoiselle," said a low voice. "There is a cushion
yonder. Make no sound--at least, not until we are out of the village."
Ruth could only gasp. There was light enough under the ambulance roof
for her to see the speaker creep down from the swinging stretcher. He
moved very carefully, but his bandages were evidently camouflage.
The jouncing of the automobile made her uncomfortable. Charlie Bragg
was driving at his usual reckless pace. Ruth did not even laugh over
the surprise of Helen and Jennie at her departure. She was too deeply
interested in the actions of the man with her in the ambulance.
He was unwinding the bandage that strapped his left arm to his side
and, with gravity, removed the splints that had evidently been put in
place by a professional hand.
His arm, however, was as well and strong as Ruth's own. She saw that
he wore a familiar, patched, blue smock, baggy trousers, and wooden
shoes. He began to look like the mysterious Nicko, the chocolate
vender!
Then he unwrapped his head. There were yards of the gauze and padding.
To believe his first appearance once might have thought that his jaw
had been shot away.
But at last Ruth saw his unmarred face so clearly that she could no
longer doubt his identity. It was Major Marchand. And yet, it was
Nicko!
"Pardon, Mademoiselle," said the officer softly. "It is necessary that
I go disguised at times. My poor friend, Nicko (perhaps you saw him at
the field hospital to which you were assigned for a week?), allows me
to dress like him and did, indeed, allow me to live in his house at
times. Now he has been removed from his home and fields with the rest."
"I think I understand, Major Marchand," she answered.
"I was much interested in a wounded Uhlan captain who was in that
hospital. He began by trying to bribe our poor Nicko, thinking the
chocolate peddler too weak-minded to be patriotic. He was mistaken,"
and the major nodded. "Had the Uhlan not died of his wounds I believe
I should have got something of moment from him."
Ruth shook her head and asked: "Where are you taking me? Oh! I
thought Charlie would have us over then!"
The major smiled. "Our friend, Monsieur Bragg, is faithful and wise;
but he drives like Jehu. I have engaged him to transport us a part of
the way."
"Part of the way to where?"
"To where we are going," Major Marchand replied dryly enough.
"But I was not exactly prepared, Major Marchand," Ruth said. "I am not
properly clothed. I wear slippers and I have no hat."
"Trouble not regarding that," he told her. "It would be impossible for
you to take a wardrobe across No Man's Land. An outfit of proper
clothing must be secured for you upon the other side."
"Will that be possible?"
"German women still dress in the mode, Mademoiselle. And the garments
you wear at Merz must bear the labels of Berlin tradesmen."
"Goodness! I never thought of that," admitted Ruth.
"Somebody must think of all the details," he said gently. "My brother
will attend to it all."
"Count Allaire?"
"Yes. He is a master of detail," and the major smiled and nodded.
"You speak as though I were sure of getting across," Ruth whispered.
"Have no doubt, Mademoiselle. We _must_ get over. Doubt never won in
a contest yet. Have courage."
After another minute of jouncing about in the furiously driven
ambulance, the girl continued her questioning:
"What am I to do first?"
"Do as you are told," he smiled.
"We are going toward the front now? Yes? And at what part of the line
can we cross?"
"There is but one place where it is possible for you to get over. It
is at the Savoie Swamps. It is a wild and deserted place--has always
been. There is a little lake much sought by fishermen in the summers
before the war started. The shores immediately about it are always
marshy. At this season they are inundated."
"Then, how am I to get through?"
"That you will be able to understand better when you are there," said
the officer noncommittally.
"Is it open country?" she asked wonderingly. "Shall we be quite
exposed?"
"Not at night," he returned grimly. "And it is partly forest covered,
that morass. The guns have shattered the forest in places. But most
of the huge shells which drop into the swamp never explode."
"Oh!"
"Yes. They are very, very dangerous--those duds. But they will not be
our only peril in crossing. Have you a brave heart, Mademoiselle?"
"I am going to help Tom Cameron escape," she said firmly.
He bowed and said nothing more until she again spoke.
"I can see that it may be possible for a man to get through that
swamp--or across the lake by boat. But how about me? My dress----"
"I am afraid we shall have to disguise you, Mademoiselle," Major
Marchand said with one of his flashing smiles. "But do not take
thought of it. All will be arranged."
This was comforting, but only to a slight degree. Ruth Fielding was
not a person given to allowing things to take their course. She
usually planned far ahead and "made things come her way."
She stared out rather stonily upon the landscape. Charlie was still
driving at his maddest gait. They passed few houses, and those they
did pass were deserted.
"Your Americans, Mademoiselle," said the major, "have prepared for the
expected German advance with a completeness--yes! They have my
admiration."
"But will the attack come?" she asked doubtfully.
"Surely. As I told you, Mademoiselle, we can thank your young friend,
Lieutenant Cameron, for the warning. Through his advantage with
General Stultz he gained such information. The High Command of the
German Armies has planned this attack upon the first American-held
trenches."
"Oh, what will they do to poor Tom if they are sure he is a spy?"
murmured Ruth, for the moment breaking down.
"We will get there first," was the assurance given her.
"But his sister--Helen---- Think of it, Major Marchand! She has just
arrived at Clair and awaits him there at the hospital. I have not
dared tell her that Tom has been caught by the Germans."
"Fear not," he urged her. "There is yet hope."
But every now and then Ruth felt her courage melting. It seemed so
impossible for her to do this great thing she had set out to do. She
felt her limitations.
Yet it was not personal fear that troubled her. She would have pressed
forward, even had she been obliged to essay the crossing of No Man's
Land alone.
At last the jouncing ambulance came to a rocking halt.
"As far as I can take you folks in this old fliver, I guess," drawled
Charlie Bragg. "An unhealthy looking place for a picnic."
He twisted around in his seat to look at Ruth. She smiled wanly at
him, while the Major got down quickly and offered her his hand.
"Is it all right, Ruth?" Charlie whispered. "I don't _know_ this
French chap."
"Don't fear for me, Charlie dear," she returned. "He is Major Henri
Marchand. I fancy he is high in the French Army. And I know his
mother--a very lovely lady."
"Oh, all right," responded the boy shortly. "One of the family, as you
might say? Take care of yourself. Haven't heard from Cameron, have
you?"
"That is what I am here for," whispered Ruth. "I hope I shall hear of
him soon."
"Well, best o' luck!" said Charlie Bragg, as Ruth followed the major
out of the rear of the ambulance.
The evening was falling. They stood at the mouth of a wide gully up
which the car could not have traveled. The latter turned in a swirl of
dust and pounded back toward the rear. When it was out of sight and
the noise of it had died away, there did not seem to be any other sound
about them.
"Where are we?" asked Ruth.
"Let us see," returned Major Marchand cheerfully. "I think we shall
find somebody up this way."
They walked up the gully some hundreds of yards until they finally came
out upon a narrow plain at the top. On this mesa was a ruined dwelling
of two stories and some shattered farm buildings.
"Halt!" was the sudden command.
A man in khaki appeared from a clump of trees near the house, advancing
his rifle.
"Friends," said the major quietly.
"Advance one friend with the countersign."
Major Marchand stepped ahead of Ruth and whispered something to the
sentinel.
"Guess it's all right, Boss," said the sentinel, who evidently had no
French. "But you can't proceed in this direction."
"Why not, _mon ami_?"
"New orders. Something doing up front. Wait till my relief comes on
in half an hour. Top-sergeant will tell you."
"But we _must_ go forward," urged the major, rather vexed.
"Don't worry," advised the American. "General orders takes the 'must'
out of mustard even, and don't you forget it. If you were a soldier,
you'd learn _that_," and he chuckled. "Come on over to the dyke and
sit down--you and the lady," and he favored Ruth with an admiring
glance.
The American girl did not speak, and it was evident that the sentinel
thought her French like her companion. The three strolled along to the
grassy bank behind the trees and directly before the half-ruined house.
Shell fire had destroyed one end of it. But the other end wall was
complete. On the second floor was a window. The lower sash was
removed, but in the upper sash there were several small, unbroken panes
of glass.
There was the smell of smoke in the air, and the two newcomers spied a
little handful of fire blazing on a rock under the dyke. Here the
sentinel had made his little camp, and it was evident that he had
boiled coffee and toasted meat within the hour.
"Great housekeeping," he said, grinning. "When I get back home I guess
my mother'll make me do all the kitchen work. Ain't war what General
Sherman said it was--and then some?"
"But we wish to hurry on, Monsieur," said the major quietly.
"Nothing doing!" responded the sentinel. "I got particular orders not
to let anybody pass--not even with the word. Just stick around a
little while, you and the lady. Toppy'll be along soon."
Ruth wondered that the French officer did not reveal his identity. But
she remained silent herself, knowing that Major Marchand must have good
reason for not wishing his rank known.
"We got to watch this old ranch," continued the talkative sentinel,
nodding toward the half-ruined dwelling. "Somebody thinks there's
something besides cooties in it. Yep," as the major started and looked
at him questioningly. "Spies. Those Dutchmen are mighty smart, they
do say. I'm told they flash signals from that window up yonder clear
across the swamps to the German lines. Now, when it gets dark----"
He nodded and pursed his lips. The major nodded in return. Ruth
remained silent, but she was becoming nervous. While they were in
action and going forward the suspense was not so hard to bear. But now
she began to wonder how she was ever going to cross that morass the
major had told her about. And half a hundred other difficulties
paraded through her troubled mind.
They sat upon the bank, and waited. The sentinel continued to march up
and down just the other side of the fire, occasionally throwing a
remark at the major, but usually with his face turned toward the house,
which was distant about five furlongs.
Suddenly Ruth observed that Major Marchand had in his palm a little
round mirror. He seemed to be manipulating it to catch the firelight.
Ruth saw in a moment what he was about.
The sentinel stopped in his beat with a smothered exclamation. His
back was to them and he was staring up at the open window of the house.
There came a flash of light from the window--another! Like lightning
the sentinel raised his rifle and fired pointblank into the opening on
the second floor.
Then, with a shout, he dashed across the intervening space and
disappeared within the house. Major Marchand seized Ruth's hand and
rose to his feet.