Ruth Fielding at the War Front Part 21

"What, then?" demanded Jennie.

"I can't tell you! It is not my secret! If it were, don't you suppose I would take you both into my confidence?"

"I don't know about that," grumbled Jennie Stone.

"I had made arrangements to do this before you came," the girl of the Red Mill said, rather provoked. "You must take me at my word. I cannot do differently. I never told you girls a falsehood in my life."

"Goodness, Ruthie!" exclaimed Helen, with sudden good sense. "Say no more about it. Of course we know you would not desert us if it could be helped. If Tom would only come while you are gone----"

"I may be able to communicate with him," Ruth said, turning her head quickly so that her chum should not see her expression of countenance.

"And there is something you girls can do for me while I am gone."

"I warrant!" groaned Jennie. "No rest for the wicked. Don't try to think up anything in the line of cooking for _me_, Ruthie Fielding, for I won't do it! I have come here to get away from cooking."

"Will you fast then, while you remain at Clair?" asked Ruth rather wickedly.

"Ow-wow!" shrieked the plump girl. "How you can twist a fellow's meaning around! No! I merely will _not_ cook!"

"But she still hopes to eat," said Helen. "What is it you want of your poor slaves, Lady Ruth?"

"Do my work here while I'm gone. Look out for the supplies. I can break you both in this morning. I do not know just when I shall be called for----"

"By whom, pray?" put in the saucy Jennie drawlingly.

Ruth ignored the question. "You will not find this work difficult.

And, as Jennie suggests, it will be a change."

"Good-_night_!" groaned Jennie.

"Don't lose heart, sister," said Helen cheerfully. "I understand that Ruth often goes into the wards and writes letters for the poor poilus, and feeds them canned peaches and soft puddings. Isn't that what you do, Ruthie?"

"Better not let me do that," grumbled Jennie. "I might be tempted to eat the goodies myself. I'll write the letters."

"Heaven help the home folks of the poor poilus, my dear," Helen responded. "n.o.body--not even Madame Picolet--could ever read your written French."

"Well! I do declare!" exclaimed the fleshy girl, tossing her head. "I suppose the duty will devolve upon me to eat all the _blesses'_ fancy food for them. Dear me, Ruthie Fielding! Don't stay long. For if you do I shall utterly ruin my figure."

It was very kind of the girls to agree to Ruth's suggestion, and she appreciated it. But she could not tell them anything about what she was to do while she was absent from the hospital.

Indeed, she barely knew herself what she would do--in detail, that is.

She had put herself in the hands of Major Marchand and must wait to hear from him.

She dared not breathe to Helen a word of Tom's trouble. n.o.body must know that she, Ruth, hoped in some way to aid him to escape from beyond the German lines.

It seemed almost impossible for a girl--any girl--to pa.s.s from one side of the battle front to the other. From the sea on the Belgian coast to the Alps the trenches ran in continuous lines. Division after division of Belgians, British and their colonial troops, French, and Americans held the trenches on this side, facing a great horde of Germans.

In places the huge guns stood so close together they all but touched.

Beyond these were the front trenches, in which the sharpshooters and the machine-gun men watched the enemy. And beyond again were the listening posts and the wire entanglements.

How could a girl ever get through the jungle of barbed wire? And in places the Huns had strung live wires, carrying voltages strong enough to kill a man, just as they did along the borderland of Holland.

When Ruth thought of these things she lost hope. But she tried not to think at all. Major Marchand had bade her be of good hope.

She kept her mind occupied in showing the two girls their duties and in introducing them to such of the nurses and other workers as Ruth herself knew well.

It was rather late in the afternoon, and she had heard no word of the major, when Ruth and her two friends came out of a lower ward to the main entrance of the hospital just as an ambulance rolled in. Two of the _brancardiers_ came out of the hospital and drew forth one stretcher on which a convalescent patient lay.

"Oh, the poor man!" murmured Helen. "What do they do with him now?"

"He has come in from a field hospital," began Ruth. And then she saw the face of the ambulance driver. "Oh, Charlie Bragg!" she called.

"What did I tell you?" said Jennie solemnly. "She knows 'em all. They grow on bushes around here, I warrant."

"They don't grow 'em like Charlie on bushes, I a.s.sure you," declared Ruth, laughing, and she ran down the steps to speak to the ambulance driver, for she saw that he wanted to say something to her.

"Miss Ruth, I was told to whisper something in your private ear, and when I have said it, you are to do it, instantly."

"Goodness! What do you mean, Charlie Bragg?" she gasped.

"Listen. Those two _brancardiers_ are coming for the second man. When they start up the steps with him, you pop into the back of the ambulance."

"Why, Charlie!" she murmured in utter amazement.

"Are you going to do as you are told?" he demanded with much apparent fierceness.

"But the third man? You have another wounded man inside."

The stretcher-bearers slid the second convalescent out of the ambulance.

"Now!" whispered Charlie. "Do as you are told."

Half understanding, yet still much puzzled, the girl went around to the rear of the ambulance. It was half dark within, but she saw the man lying on the third stretcher, the one overhead, put out a hand and beckon her. She could see nothing of his face, his head was so much bandaged. One arm seemed strapped to his side, too.

The engine of the car began to purr. Charlie clashed the clutch. Ruth jumped upon the step, and then crept into the covered vehicle. The car leaped ahead.

She heard Jennie Stone exclaim in utter amazement:

"Well, what _do_ you think of that? What did I tell you, Helen? She is actually running away."

In half a minute the ambulance was out of the courtyard and the dust of the village street wan rising behind it, as Charlie Bragg swung the car into high gear.

This was adventure, indeed!

CHAPTER XX

ON THE RAW EDGE OF NO MAN'S LAND