BACK AGAIN
It was Ruth who finally remembered to order dinner sent up.
Her letter, read, of course, by the mildly suspicious old general, had
served to release Tom from present espionage. There was not even a
guard in the corridor when, just before nine, the "brother and sister"
left the rooms and strolled out of the hotel into the streets.
They walked several blocks until Tom was assured they were not spied
upon. Then quickly, through several short but crooked side streets, he
led Ruth to a garage in an alley. He tapped a signal on the door. The
latter slid back.
The purring of a motor was heard. A man silently got into the driver's
seat. Tom helped Ruth into the tonneau and got in himself.
"You have your papers, Captain?" asked the count softly.
"Yes. They did not take them from me."
"And the lady's?" said the other. "If we are halted you know what to
say?"
"Quite," returned Tom in German.
The car rolled out of the garage, the door of which closed as silently
behind them as it had opened. Ruth made up her mind that Merz was
quite as infested with French spies as the towns behind the French
lines were infested with those of the Germans.
The car left the town quickly. She remembered the road over which she
had traveled that morning. They entered the Marchand estate by the
same rear gate where only one sleepy guard hailed them and did not even
look at the papers when he observed Tom's uniform.
"Farewell," whispered the count as they approached the gardener's
cottage. "I may not see you soon again, Captain. Nor the Fraulein.
Best of luck!"
They alighted. The car wheeled and was gone. Good Frau Krause met
Ruth at the door, hurried her up to the small room and there helped her
into the uniform of the sub-lieutenant of Uhlans.
When Ruth came down into the parlor of the cottage she found two other
officers of apparently her own regiment awaiting her. Tom rushed to
her. But she only gave him her hand.
"Manifestly this is no place for renewed protestations of brotherly
regard, Tommy," she said demurely. "I presume we have to go through
all the difficulties we did last night, Major?"
"And quickly," muttered Major Henri Marchand, looking away from them.
"There is something on foot. I should not be surprised if the promised
attack and advance under barrage fire is to begin before morning."
"I am ready," the girl said simply.
"Here is the car I sent for," the Frenchman said, raising his hand as
he heard the automobile without. "You ahead, Captain. Remember, you
are our superior officer."
They filed out. The car which the major and Ruth had used in reaching
the gardener's cottage from the German front stood panting on the
drive. The three got in.
They wheeled around, boldly passing the front of the Marchand house
where the general and his staff lived and where Tom had been an
unwilling guest for three days, and so reached the main entrance of the
estate.
Here their papers were scrutinized, but superficially. Captain von
Brenner's name was already known. Leutnant Gilder and Sub-Leutnant
Louden were remembered from the previous evening.
The car started again. It slipped between the massive stone posts of
the gateway. It sped toward the front. But all the peril was yet
ahead.
"How can we get through the German trenches if they are already filled
with the shock troops that will be sent over following the barrage?"
asked Tom.
"We must beat them to it, as you Americans say," chuckled the major,
whose spirits seemed to rise as the peril increased.
And he prophesied well in this matter. They were, indeed, in the
trenches before the reserves were brought up for the planned attack
upon the American lines.
The trio of fugitives left the car at the wayside inn. They found the
hidden hut and made their changes into rubber suits, an outfit being
produced for Tom by the indefatigable Major Marchand.
Through the shrouding darkness they went in single file to the wood
directly behind the trenches. As on the previous night the French spy
had secured the password. Three men with an evident objective "up
front" were allowed to pass without question.
Once "over the top" they lay in the field until a patrol went out
through the wire entanglements to spy about No Man's Land. The three
joined this party, but quite unknown to its leader.
Once on the black waste at the edge of the morass, the three fugitives
separated from the German patrol and slipped down into the low ground.
Major Marchand found the path, and, for a second time, there began for
Ruth that wearisome and exhausting journey through the swamp.
This time, what with her failing strength and the excitement of the
venture, Ruth was utterly played out when they reached the log whereon
she and the major had rested the night before.
"We'll carry her between us--chair fashion," suggested Tom Cameron.
"That is the way, Major. Interlock your hands with mine. Lean back,
Ruthie. We'll get you out of this all right."
It was a three-hour trip to the American trenches, however, and, after
a while, Ruth insisted upon being set down. She did not want to
overburden her two companions.
At the listening post an officer was sent for who recognized Major
Marchand and who took Tom and Ruth "on trust." The major, too, sent
the word up and down the trenches by telephone that the expected
advance of the Germans was about to occur.
As the three passed through the American lines, after removing the
rubber suits in the dugout, they passed company after company of
American troops marching into the trenches.
Tom left Ruth and the major at a certain place to report to his
commander. But he promised to be in Clair the next morning to satisfy
Helen of his safety.
It was almost morning before the major and Ruth secured transportation,
the one to the Clair Hospital, the other to the chateau on the hill
behind the village. But it was an officer's car they used, and it
covered the distance less bumpily than had Charlie Bragg's ambulance.
"Mademoiselle," said Major Henri Marchand in his most punctilious way,
"it is in my heart to say much to you. I approve of you--I admire you.
Your courage is sublime--and your modesty and goodness equally so.
"Forgive the warm expressions of a Frenchman who appreciates your
attributes of character, as well as your graces of person. Believe me
your friend forever--your devoted and humble friend. And I trust your
future will be as bright as you deserve."
The day was just breaking as he thus bade her good-bye and Ruth
Fielding alighted from the machine at the gateway of the hospital.
She stood for a minute and watched the car disappear in the
semi-darkness with this faithful soldier of France sitting so upright
upon the rear seat. And she had once suspected him of disloyalty!
The sentinel presented arms as she went in. She climbed wearily to her
own little white cell that looked out toward the battle front. Already
the guns had begun--the big German guns, heralding an attack for which
the Americans were prepared, thanks to Tom Cameron!
The thundering echoes awoke Helen and Jennie. They scurried into
Ruth's little room to find her sitting on the side of her cot sipping
hot tea which she had made over her alcohol lamp.
"Where _have_ you been?" cried Helen. And Jennie chimed in with:
"Two whole nights and a day! It is disgraceful! Oh, Ruthie! Are you
really wedded?"
"I am wedded to my work," replied the girl of the Red Mill quietly.
"Dear, dear! How original!" drawled Jennie.
"What are those guns?" demanded Helen. "Aren't they going to stop
pretty soon?"
"They have merely begun. You are here in time to witness--from a
perfectly safe distance--a German drive. This sector will be plowed by
huge shells, and our brave boys in khaki will hold the German horde
back. It will be one of the hottest contested battles our boys have
experienced."
"Pooh! How do you know?" scoffed Helen.
"I warrant it will all be over in an hour," added Jennie. "What do you
know about it, Ruth Fielding? You haven't been over there to find out
what is in the mind of the Hun."
"_Haven't I_?"
Ruth Fielding hesitated. Should she tell them? What would these, her
two closest girl friends, say or think, if they knew what she had been
through during the past thirty-six hours?
Suppose she should picture her adventure to them--just as it had
happened? Suppose she told them of her long journey with the French
major across No Man's Land?
"Where is Tom? Did you get word to him?" Helen asked.
"He will be here this morning to see you," Ruth said, and then went
back to her thoughts of her adventure.
"Goody! Dear old Tom will take us around and show us the big shell
holes--and all," Helen declared.
Shell holes! Ruth remembered the shell hole in which they had changed
steel helmets before and after crossing the swamp. How she must have
looked in that shapeless rubber garment and steel hat!
"What under the sun are you laughing at, Ruth Fielding?" demanded Helen.
"Yes. Do tell us the joke," drawled Heavy Stone.
"I--I was ju-just thinking of how fun-funny I must ha-have looked in a
hat I had on since I saw you girls!" Ruth was hysterical.
"Well! I never!" gasped Jennie.
"Dear me, Ruth," Helen said, admonishingly. "I wonder you are so
light-minded at such a time as this. You are laughing when those
horrid guns may be throwing shells right among our poor boys. Dear,
dear! I wish they would stop."
Ruth gazed at Helen with a far-away look in her eyes.
"I'm not laughing," she said slowly. "Far from it!"
"Yes, but you did laugh!" burst out Jennie.
"If I did, I didn't know it," answered Ruth. "I was thinking of
something else. Oh, girls, not now--to-morrow, perhaps--you may know
about it. Now I'm tired, so tired!"
The two girls, at last realizing that something out of the ordinary had
occurred and seeing how near the end of her strength Ruth really was,
petted her, made her as comfortable as possible, and finally left her
to rest, telling her they would still take charge of the supply room,
so that the girl of the Red Mill need not take up at once her duties in
the hospital.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Ruth Fielding at the War Front, by Alice B. Emerson