A breath of sweeter air blew upon Ruth's cheek.

"Down!" whispered the major. They almost crawled the final few yards.

There was a quick word spoken ahead and the clatter of arms. Major Marchand shrilled a whisper in reply.

"Come, my boy," he said aloud, turning to Ruth. "We must step out lively. It is nearing ten o'clock."

"So you take a friend to-night, do you, Major?" asked a good American voice—that of the officer in command of the listening post.

"Aye," was the reply. "A boy to help me bring home the fish I may catch."

There was a little laugh. Ruth felt herself in a tremor. She knew instinctively that it would never do for her sex to be discovered.

She was not discovered, however. They stood upon the surface. Major Marchand took her hand and led her quietly away. The earth about them looked gray; but the blackness of night wrapped them around. There was not a light to be seen.

She realized more by the sense of locality she possessed than by aught else that they were on the lowland far beyond that ridge through which they had first tunneled after Sergeant Tremp had joined them.

Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness as they stumbled on. Below them and ahead, she occasionally caught the glint of water. It was a pool of considerable size. She believed it must be the small lake Major Marchand had spoken of.

Suddenly Ruth seized her companion's arm.

"There!" she whispered.

"What is it?" he asked in the same low tone.

"There are men. See them?"

"No, no, Mademoiselle," he told her with a small chuckle. "There are no men standing so boldly there. They are posts—posts to which our barbed-wire entanglements are fixed."

"Oh!" she breathed with relief.

"Be not alarmed——" He seized her shoulder as he spoke and so great was his sudden pressure on it that he carried her with him to the ground.

A shower of flare rockets had erupted from the German trenches. They sailed up over No Man's Land and burst, flooding acres of the rough ground with a white glare.

The major and Ruth lay flat upon the ground, and the girl knew enough not to move. Nor did she cry out. For five minutes the eruption lasted. Then all died down and there was no reply from the American side. Major Marchand chuckled.

"That was most unexpected, was it not, Mademoiselle? But have no fear. The first patrol has already been across here to the German wire entanglements to-night, and found nothing stirring. It is not yet that we shall run into Germans."

They arose, and the major led straight on again, slowly descending the easy slope of this hillside. Finally they reached a gaping hole. Ruth knew it must have been made by a shell. It was thirty feet or more across, and when they descended into it she found it to be fully twenty feet deep.

"Now you may show a flash of your light, Mademoiselle," the Frenchman advised her. "Thank you. Remove that casque you wear. These would attract much attention upon the German side. Here is a German helmet to take the place of the other. I cached them on a former trip. So! Now, over this way. On hands and knees, Mademoiselle."

She followed him, obeying his word. So they crept out of the marmite hole and up under the entanglement of wire. It was plain that this path had been used before.

Once clear of the barrier, they descended the last few steps to the shore of the lake. There was thick shrubbery here, but Major Marchand led through this to the narrow beach.

"Can it not be crossed by boat?" she whispered.

"This water can be seen from watchers of both armies. Its least disturbance—even that occasioned by a swimmer—would draw volleys of shots from Americans and Germans alike.

"Now, we follow along this narrow beach. Step in my track, if possible, Mademoiselle Fielding. And keep within touch of me."

They walked on steadily. Soon the track became soft and sticky. She sank ankle deep in mire. Then gradually the morass grew deeper and she was in mud and water up to her knees. Later she was plodding half-leg deep, panting deeply.

The Frenchman wished to get to a certain place before they halted. The girl was almost exhausted when the major leaped out upon a log and offered her his hand.

"Come up here, Mademoiselle," he whispered. "We shall be dry here—and we can rest."

She could not speak; but her breathing soon grew calmer. Major Marchand said, suddenly speaking in German:

"Forget your French, Fraulein—from this point on. The German tongue only for us."

"Oh! Are we near?" she asked, obeying him.

"Yes. Can you go on again?"

"At once," she declared with confidence.

They walked to the end of the long log. Stepping down, she found that the quagmire was not so deep. But for some minutes they continued to plow through it, but walking as softly as possible.

Ahead there was a flash of light. Ruth thought it might be another flare, and prepared to drop down in the mud.

But it was merely an electric torch. There were voices—rougher voices than those to which Ruth had been used. She caught German words.

Major Marchand drew her behind the huge trunk of a tree. There splashed past through the mud a file of bulky figures. When they had gone, her companion whispered to the girl:

"Fraulein, it is a patrol. We are in good season. Soon we shall be there."

She was soon able to walk beside him on higher ground. She saved her breath for continued exertion. They came to a wire entanglement somewhat similar to that on the American side of the morass. But here a narrow path had been opened for the patrol.

"Halt! Who goes there?" croaked the sentinel.

"Ein Freund!"

The major gave the reply in a guttural tone. He stepped forward and whispered to the sentinel. Evidently he had the password of the Germans, as he had had that of the Americans!

Ruth followed on through the wires. They crossed a narrow field and were again challenged. Here a sergeant was brought to confer with the disguised Frenchman. But it was all right. He and his companion were passed, and they were led on by the sergeant.

They went over several bridges which spanned the front trenches and then their escort left them. Major Marchand seized Ruth's hand and held it for a moment.

"Rejoice, Fraulein!" he whispered. "We are through the lines."



CHAPTER XXIII

THE GARDENER'S COT

Ruth Fielding thought afterward that Major Marchand must possess the eyes of a cat. And his sense of locality was as highly developed as that of a feline as well.

In the midst of the wood into which they had come out from the German trenches he discovered a path leading to a tiny hut, which seemed entirely surrounded by thick brush.

He left her waiting for a moment while he ventured within. Then he came to the door and touched Ruth's sleeve.

"I can never know who is waiting for me here," he whispered.

"Your brother?"

"No, no! Some day they will suspect—these Boches—and they will find my little lodge. You know, Fraulein, the pitcher that too often goes to the well is at last broken."

She understood his meaning. At last he would be caught. It was the fate of most spies.

He lit a smoky lamp; but it gave light enough for her to see that the hut was all but empty. It must have been a swineherd's cot at a pre-war date. There was a table, a sawed-off log for a chair, a cupboard hanging against the wall, and a heap of straw in a corner for a bed.

This he pushed aside until he revealed beneath it a box like a coffin, buried in the dirt floor. Its cover was hinged.

From this hidden receptacle he drew forth the complete uniform of a Uhlan lieutenant. "Turn your back for a little, Fraulein," he said softly. "I must make a small change in my toilet."

He removed the muddy rubber suit and the helmet. Likewise, the smock, and baggy trousers, like those worn by Nicko the chocolate peddler. In a trice he clothed himself from top to toe as a Uhlan full lieutenant. He stood before the small glass tacked in the corner and twirled and stiffened his mustache with pomatum. When he turned and strode before Ruth again he was the typical haughty martinet who demanded of the rank and file the goose-step and "right face salute" of the German army.

"For your protection, Fraulein," he said, stooping at the box again, "we must make a subaltern of you."

"Oh! I could never look like a boy," Ruth objected, shrinking as she saw the second uniform brought to light.

"For your protection," he said again. "A girl like you, Fraulein, would not have the chance of a rabbit among these Huns. They are not French," he added dryly. "I will step outside. Make haste, please."

He practically commanded her to don the uniform he laid out.

Ruth let fall the heavy rubber garment she had worn through the swamp. Then she removed her outer clothing and got into the uniform and into the long, polished boots quickly. There was even the swagger cane that young Prussian officers carry.

She viewed herself as well as she could in the piece of mirror in the corner. She might have the appearance of a "stage" soldier; but nobody would ever, for a moment, take her for a man!

She strode up and down the hut for several moments, trying to tune her gait to her new character—no easy matter. Finally she went to the door. The lamplight showed her figure boldly in the frame of the doorway. She saw the waiting major start, and he muttered something under his breath.

"Am I not all right?" she asked with some trepidation.

For once Major Marchand forgot himself.

He bowed his stiff, military bow with a gesture as though he would kiss her finger tips.

"Assuredly, Mademoiselle!"

She drew back for him to enter the hut again. He withdrew from the box under the straw a long, military cloak, which he fastened upon Ruth's shoulders.

"It will cover the figure, Fraulein. And now, a bit of camouflage."

From his pocket he drew a leather roll, which, when opened, proved to contain shaving materials and certain toilet requisites. With a camel's hair brush dipped in grease paint he darkened her lip and her cheekbones just before her ears—as though the down of immature manhood were sprouting. She again looked at herself in the glass.

"I am a boy now!" she cried.

Major Marchand chuckled as he tumbled the rubber suits and all the other articles into the box, shut the cover and covered it with the straw. He looked carefully about the hut before they departed to make sure that no signs of their occupancy of it were left. He even rubbed out faint imprints of Ruth's slippers upon the damp earthen floor of the hut.

Putting out the smoky lamp, they left the place. The Frenchman seemed to know the vicinity perfectly. They followed yet another path out of the wood and came to what was evidently a small inn. There was a noisy party within, caparisoned horses held by orderlies in the yard, and several automobiles under the sheds.

"Some of the Crown Prince's wild friends," whispered Major Marchand to Ruth. "We must keep out of their sight but appear to be members of the party. Remember, you are Sub-Leutnant Louden. I am your superior, Leutnant Gilder. Do not speak if you can help it, Fraulein—and then of the briefest."

She nodded, quite understanding his warning. She was alive to the peril she faced, but she felt no panic of fright now that she was in the midst of the adventure.

The major found somebody in authority. An auto-car for hire? Surely! A price asked for it and a driver to Merz, which staggered Ruth. But her companion agreed with a nod. To be a Prussian lieutenant of the Crown Prince's suite one must throw money around!

In ten minutes they were under way—as easily as that was it accomplished. Huddled down in her corner of the tonneau, with the cloak wrapped around her, Ruth dozed. It was growing very late, and after her struggle across the swampland between the lines she was exhausted in body if not in mind.

She awoke suddenly. The car was stopping at a wide gateway and two sentries were approaching to examine their papers.

The Frenchman seemed prepared for everything. He had papers for himself and for "Sub-Leutnant Louden."

"Correct, Herr Leutnant. Pass on."

The car entered the private estate, but swiftly sped off into a side road instead of going up to the big house in the upper windows of which Ruth saw lights, although it was now nearly morning.

"Our quarters are in the gardener's cottage," said the major, loudly, evidently intending the information for the automobile driver's ear.

They came to a roomy old cottage. Its windows were dark. The chauffeur stopped before it and the major sprang out.

"Have a care how you step," he whispered to Ruth, and she made ready to get out of the car without a tumble. The high boots did feel queer on her legs.

Her companion was hammering on the door of the cottage with the hilt of his sword. A window opened above.

"Leutnant Gilder and Sub-Leutnant Louden billeted here. Make haste and come down," he commanded in his gruffest voice as the automobile wheeled around in the drive and started back for the gate.

In three minutes the door was opened; but it was dark inside.

"Is it thou, my Henri?" whispered a voice.

"Allaire!"

Ruth knew that it was the young count himself. Major Marchand drew her into the tiny hall. There was not much light, but she saw the two tall men greet each other warmly—in true French fashion—with a kiss upon either cheek.



CHAPTER XXIV

CAPTAIN VON BRENNER'S SISTER

The major turned immediately to Ruth, drawing his brother forward.

"Mademoiselle Ruth Fielding, Allaire. The Count Marchand," he whispered formally. "You understand, from my message by Bubu, Allaire, for what reason the lady has taken this arduous journey, do you not?"

"But yes," rejoined his brother. "Bubu safely arrived. I have not yet sent him back."

"But Tom—Lieutenant Cameron? What of him?" Ruth asked anxiously.

"Have no present fear, Fraulein," said the count in German. "He has not yet been allowed to return to his rooms at the hotel in Merz. That is all."

"He is a prisoner at the house up yonder, yes?" the major asked, with a shrug.

"Not a prisoner. A guest," replied the count. "General Stultz is still friendly. The Hauptman von Brenner," and he smiled, "is teaching the general some American card game, I believe. The whole staff is card-crazy. They have little else to do but play."

"And what plans have you already made for Fraulein Ruth?" queried Major Marchand.

"While she remains under this roof she will pass as Frau Krause's niece. But in the morning she will be furnished an outfit I have secured, and she shall enter Merz as a very different person."

"Oh, dear!" murmured Ruth. "Another disguise?"

"You could scarcely continue in your present dress and escape discovery—by daylight," the count said dryly.

This fact was, of course, patent. Ruth was only too glad that the voluminous cloak covered her completely.

The count led her up two flights of stairs to a tiny, neat chamber under the roof. It was evidently a domestic's bedroom.

"Put the uniform outside the door, Fraulein, when you remove it. It must be hidden," whispered the count. "You will find night apparel on the chair. The good Frau Krause has thought of everything."

This, indeed, seemed to be the fact when Ruth awoke from her sound sleep at mid-forenoon. She might not have aroused then had there not been an insistent tapping on the door.

"Ja? Herein!" exclaimed Ruth, not too sleepy to remember her German.

A broad face surmounted by a cap, then the woman—quite a motherly looking person—appeared. "I am to help the Fraulein dress," announced Frau Krause, smiling.

"If you will be so kind," the girl agreed.

What she had not noticed when she went to bed was an open trunk heaped with clothing—both for under and outer wear. The rich and "stuffy" gown was typically German, and so was the plumed hat.

Ruth was sitting, with her hat on, in the little dining-room of the cottage over her pot of substitute coffee, rye bread and schmierkaese, when a private and almost noiseless auto-car rolled up to the door. She went out and entered it quite alone, and they were out of the Marchand estate by a rear exit and on the highway to Merz before Ruth discovered that the capped and goggled chauffeur was none other than Count Allaire Marchand himself.

In a stretch of the road where there was no traffic and few houses in sight, he half turned in his seat and told Ruth in brisk, illuminating sentences what she was to do.

It sounded easy, providing she aroused no suspicion in the breasts of those whom she met. The supposed character of Captain von Brenner's sister would enable her to treat everybody in a distant and haughty manner.

"But be careful of your German, Fraulein," urged the count. "Make no error in your speech. Deny yourself to everybody until your brother appears. After your first outburst of anger and alarm, when you arrive at the hotel, retire to the rooms he engaged for you, and refuse to discuss the matter with anybody.

"It is, as you Americans say, one grand game of bluff. It can be carried through by no other means. Remember what I have told you to tell your brother. To-night at nine, or to-morrow night at nine, I will be in waiting with the car. This is absolutely all my brother and I can do for you."

In a few minutes the car rolled into the principal street of Merz. Just beyond the great, glass-roofed building, wherein in happier times the visitors went daily to drink the medicated waters, was the hotel.

A rheumatic old woman with a sash, who acted as carriage opener, with a young boy for porter, met "Captain von Brenner's sister." In the hall the corpulent host bowed before her.

"Captain von Brenner?" queried Ruth. "I am his sister."

Mine host paled. His eyes grew round with wonder.

"What it the matter with you?" asked the girl impatiently. "Are you dumb?"

"He is not here, mein Fraulein," chattered the man.

"Send for him, then. And show me to the suite he engaged for me."

"Fraulein! Pardon!" gasped the innkeeper. "We did not understand. That is—it was—— We thought he would not return."

"What?"

"And that—that the gnaediges Fraulein would not come."

"Idiot!" exclaimed Ruth, revealing an excellent semblance of rage. "You have relet my rooms?"

"But you may occupy the Herr Hauptman's," burst out the browbeaten Innkeeper.

"And where is Captain von Brenner?"

It all came out at one gush of chattering information. The captain had been sent for by the Herr General Stultz. He had already been away three days. It was whispered he was arrested.

After her first show of annoyance Ruth seemed to recover her self-possession. She listened more quietly to the explanation of the excited hotel man. Then she demanded to be shown to her "brother's" rooms.

There she sat down and wrote quite a long letter to Tom Cameron in the character of his sister, "Mina von Brenner." She was sure Tom would recognize her handwriting and understand at once that she was at Merz in an attempt to aid him.

"Fear not for me, Brother," she wrote in conclusion. "But hasten to assure your Mina that you are perfectly safe. Is it not possible for you to return to the hotel by dinner time? I am distraught for your safety."

She sent this letter, with gold, by the hotel keeper, who said he could find a messenger to go to the Marchand estate. Ruth knew, of course, that her letter would be read there before it was given to Tom.

Even if they questioned him about his sister before giving him the letter Tom would make no mistake. "Mina von Brenner" was already a character and name chosen by Count Allaire and Tom when the latter took up his difficult and dangerous work in the guise of an Uhlan captain.

That was one of the longest days Ruth Fielding had ever spent. As the hours dragged by she sat and pondered in the rooms Tom had occupied, one moment in despair of his coming, the next fearing that every step in the corridor outside her door was that of a guard come to arrest her.

Yet her own safety scarcely mattered. She felt that if she could not compass Tom's escape, she did not care to go back across the lines, were that even possible!

Ruth Fielding learned much about her own heart during that long wait—much that she would not have acknowledged to any other soul in the world.

It finally grew dark. She would allow the servant to light but a single candle. This stood upon her table beside which she sat with her forehead resting in her hand, her elbow on the table.

Suddenly there sounded a quick step in the corridor. Ruth had been mistaken so many times that she did not raise her head or look up. A rap on the door, and before she could say "Herein!" the knob turned.

A figure dashed in—a brave figure in a uniform somewhat similar to the one Ruth herself had worn the night before.

"Mina!" cried a welcome and familiar voice. "My dear sister!"

Tom rushed across the room. Ruth saw, as she rose, that there were two officers with him, but they remained outside. They saw Tom take her in his arms in a most affectionate and brotherly manner. Then they closed the door, evidently satisfied.

"No need of tearing my hair down and breaking my ribs, Tom," Ruth whispered. "Please remember that I am not Helen, after all."

"No," he returned softly. Then, holding her off to look more closely at her, he went on more lightly: "You are Mina von Brenner. Great heavens, my dear! How did you get here?"



CHAPTER XXV

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