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diff --git a/36395-h/36395-h.htm b/36395-h/36395-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..118b415 --- /dev/null +++ b/36395-h/36395-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8930 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="Ruth Fielding in the Red Cross" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Alice B. 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Emerson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ruth Fielding In the Red Cross + Doing Her Best For Uncle Sam + +Author: Alice B. Emerson + +Release Date: June 12, 2011 [EBook #36395] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/dust.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="OCCASIONALLY A DARTING AIRPLANE ATTRACTED HER TO THE WINDOW." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>OCCASIONALLY A DARTING AIRPLANE ATTRACTED HER TO THE WINDOW.</span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>Ruth Fielding</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>In the Red Cross</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>OR</p> +<p> </p> +<p>DOING HER BEST FOR</p> +<p>UNCLE SAM</p> +<p> </p> +<p>BY</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>ALICE B. EMERSON</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;font-variant:small-caps;'>Author of “Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,”</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;font-variant:small-caps;'>“Ruth Fielding in the Saddle,” Etc.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>ILLUSTRATED</em></p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>NEW YORK</span></p> +<p>CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>PUBLISHERS</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>Books for Girls</p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>BY ALICE B. EMERSON</span></p> +<p>RUTH FIELDING SERIES</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</span></p> +<p>Price per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.</p> +</div> +<div style='font-size:smaller; margin:20px auto'> +<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT</p> +</td></tr></table> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p><span class='sc'>Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1918, by</span></p> +<p><span class='sc'>Cupples & Leon Company</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>Ruth Fielding in the Red Cross</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>Printed in U. S. A.</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='table of contents'> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Uncle Jabez Is Excited</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Call of the Drum</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Woman in Black</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Can a Poilu Love a Fat Girl?”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“The Boys of the Draft”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Patriotism of the Purse</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>On the Way</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Nearest Duty</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tom Sails, and Something Else Happens</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Suspicions</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Said in German</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Through Dangerous Waters</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The New Chief</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Change of Base</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>New Work</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Days Roll By</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>At the Gateway of the Chateau</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Shocking News</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>At the Wayside Cross</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Many Things Happen</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Again the Werwolf</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Countess and Her Dog</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Ruth Does Her Duty</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Partial Exposure</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Quite Satisfactory</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>197</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span>Ruth Fielding in the Red Cross</h1> +<h2><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—UNCLE JABEZ IS EXCITED</h2> +<p> +“Oh! Not <em>Tom</em>?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding looked up from the box she was +packing for the local Red Cross chapter, and, almost +horrified, gazed into the black eyes of the +girl who confronted her. +</p> +<p> +Helen Cameron’s face was tragic in its expression. +She had been crying. The closely written +sheets of the letter in her hand were shaken, as +were her shoulders, with the sobs she tried to suppress. +</p> +<p> +“It—it’s written to father,” Helen said. “He +gave it to me to read. I wish Tom had never gone +to Harvard. Those boys there are completely +crazy! To think—at the end of his freshman +year—to throw it all up and go to a training +camp!” +</p> +<p> +“I guess Harvard isn’t to blame,” said Ruth +practically. If she was deeply moved by what her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +chum had told her, she quickly recovered her self-control. +“The boys are going from other colleges +all over the land. Is Tom going to try for +a commission?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +“What does your father say?” +</p> +<p> +“Why,” cried the other girl as though that, too, +had surprised and hurt her, “father cried ‘Bully +for Tom!’ and then wiped his eyes on his handkerchief. +What can men be made of, Ruth? He +knows Tom may be killed, and yet he cheers for +him.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding smiled and suddenly hugged +Helen. Ruth’s smile was somewhat tremulous, +but her chum did not observe this fact. +</p> +<p> +“I understand how your father feels, dear. +Tom does not want to be drafted——” +</p> +<p> +“He wouldn’t be drafted. He is not old +enough. And even if they automatically draft +the boys as they become of age, it would be +months before they reached Tom, and the war +will be over by that time. But here he is throwing +himself away——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Helen! Not that!” cried Ruth. “Our +soldiers will fight for us—for their country—for +honor. And a man’s life lost in such a cause is +not thrown away.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the way I feel,” said Helen, more +steadily. “Tom is my twin. You don’t know what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> +it means to have a twin brother, Ruth Fielding.” +</p> +<p> +“That is true,” sighed Ruth. “But I can imagine +how you feel, dear. If you have hopes of the +war’s being over so quickly, then I should expect +Tom back from training camp safe and sound, +and with no chance of ever facing the enemy. Has +he really gone?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes,” Helen told her despondently. “And +lots of the boys who used to go to school with Tom +at Seven Oaks. You know, all those jolly fellows +who were at Snow Camp with us, and at Lighthouse +Point, and on Cliff Island, and out West on +Silver Ranch—and—and everywhere. Just to +think! We may never see them again.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me, Helen,” Ruth urged, “don’t look +upon the blackest side of the cloud. It’s a long +time before they go over there.” +</p> +<p> +“We don’t know how soon they will be in the +trenches,” said her friend hopelessly. “These +boys going to war——” +</p> +<p> +“And I wish I was young enough to go with +’em!” ejaculated a harsh voice, as the door of the +back kitchen opened and the speaker stamped into +the room. “Got that box ready to nail up, Niece +Ruth? Ben’s hitching up the mules, and I want +to get to Cheslow before dark.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Almost ready, Uncle Jabez,” cried the +girl of the Red Mill, as the gray old man approached. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +</p> +<p> +He was lean and wiry and the dust of his mill +seemed to have been so ground into his very skin +that he was a regular “dusty miller.” His features +were as harsh as his voice, and he was seldom +as excited as he seemed to be now. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s going to war now?” he asked, turning +to Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Poor—poor Tom!” burst out the black-eyed +girl, and began to dabble her eyes again. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter o’ him?” demanded the old +miller. +</p> +<p> +“He’ll—he’ll be shot—I know he’ll be killed, +and mangled horribly!” +</p> +<p> +“Fiddle-de-dee!” grunted Uncle Jabez, but his +tone of voice was not as harsh as his words +sounded. “I never got shot, nor mangled none +to speak of, and I was fightin’ and marchin’ three +endurin’ years.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>You</em>, Uncle Jabez?” cried Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Yep. And I wish they’d take me again. I +can go a-soldierin’ as good as the next one. I’m +tough and I’m wiry. They talk about this war +bein’ a dreadful war. Shucks! All wars air +dreadful. They won’t never have a battle over +there that’ll be as bad as the Wilderness—believe +me! They may have more battles, but I went +through some of the wust a man could ever experience.” +</p> +<p> +“And—and you weren’t shot?” gasped Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit. Three years of campaigning and +never was scratched. Don’t you look for Tom +Cameron to be killed fust thing just because he’s +going to the wars. If more men didn’t come back +from the wars than git killed in ’em how d’ye +s’pose this old world would have gone on rolling? +Shucks!” +</p> +<p> +“I never knew you were a soldier, Uncle Jabez,” +Ruth Fielding said. +</p> +<p> +“Wal, I was. Shucks! I was something of a +sharpshooter, too. And we old fellers—course +I was nothin’ but a boy, <em>then</em>—we could shoot. +We’d l’arn’t to shoot on the farm. Powder an’ +shot was hard to git and we l’arn’t to make every +bullet count. My old Betsey—didn’t ye ever see +my Civil War rifle?” he demanded of Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“You mean the old brown gun that hangs over +your bed and that Aunt Alvirah is so much afraid +of?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s old Betsey. Sharpe’s rifle. In them +days it was jest about the last thing in weepons. +I brung it home after the Grand Army of the Potomac +was disbanded. Know how I did it? Government +claimed all the guns; but I took old Betsey +apart and me an’ my mates hid the pieces away in +our clothes, and so got her home. Then I assembled +her again,” and Uncle Jabez broke into +a chuckle that was actually almost startling to the +girls, for the miller seldom laughed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say!” he exclaimed, in his strange excitement. +“I’ll show her to ye.” +</p> +<p> +He hurried out of the room, evidently in search +of “Old Betsey.” Helen said to the miller’s +niece: +</p> +<p> +“Goodness, Ruth! what has happened to your +Uncle Jabez?” +</p> +<p> +“Just what has happened to Tom—and your +father,” returned the girl of the Red Mill. “I’ve +seen it coming on. Uncle Jabez has been getting +more and more excited ever since war was declared. +You know, when we came home from college +a month ago and decided to remain here and +help in the Red Cross work instead of finishing +our sophomore year at Ardmore, my decision was +really the first one I ever made that Uncle Jabez +seemed to approve of immediately. +</p> +<p> +“He is thoroughly patriotic. When I told him +I could study later—when the war was over—but +that I must work for the soldiers now, he said +I was a good girl. What do you think of <em>that</em>?” +</p> +<p> +“Cheslow is not doing its share,” Helen said +thoughtfully, her mind switched by Ruth’s last +words to the matter that had completely filled her +own and her chum’s thoughts for weeks. “The +people are not awake. They do not know we are +at war yet. They have not done half for the Red +Cross that they should do.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll make ’em!” declared Ruth Fielding. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +“We must get the women and girls to pull together.” +</p> +<p> +“Say, Ruth! what do you think of that woman +in black—you know, the widow, or whoever she +is? Dresses in black altogether; but maybe it’s +because she thinks black becomes her,” added +Helen rather scornfully. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Mantel?” asked Ruth slowly. “I don’t +know what to think of her. She seems to be very +anxious to help. Yet she does nothing really +helpful—only talks.” +</p> +<p> +“And some of her talk I’d rather not hear,” +said Helen sharply. +</p> +<p> +“I know what you mean,” Ruth rejoined, nodding. +“But so many people talk so doubtfully. +They are unfamiliar with the history of the Red +Cross and what it has done. Perhaps Mrs. Mantel +means no harm.” +</p> +<p> +At that moment Uncle Jabez reappeared with +the heavy rifle in his hands. He was still chuckling. +</p> +<p> +“Calc’late I ain’t heard Aunt Alvirah talk about +this gun much of late. One spell—when fust she +come here to the Red Mill to keep house for me—she +didn’t scurce dare to go into my room because +of it. But, of course, ‘twarn’t ever loaded. +</p> +<p> +“I was some sharpshooter, gals,” he added +proudly, patting the stock of the heavy gun. +“Here’s a ca’tridge. I’m goin’ to stick it in her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +an’ you shall hear how she roars. Warn’t no +Maxim silencers, nor nothin’ like that, when I +used to pot the Johnny Rebs with Old Betsey.” +</p> +<p> +He flung open the door into the back yard. He +raised the rifle to his shoulder, having slipped in +the greased cartridge. +</p> +<p> +“See that sassy jay atop o’ that cherry tree? +I bet I kin clutter him up a whole lot—an’ he desarves +it,” said Uncle Jabez. +</p> +<p> +Just then the door into the other kitchen +opened, and a little, crooked-backed old woman +with a shawl around her shoulders and a cap atop +of her thin hair appeared. +</p> +<p> +“Jabez Potter! What in creation you goin’ to +do with that awful gun?” she shrilled. +</p> +<p> +“I’m a-goin’ to knock the topknot off’n that +bluejay,” chuckled Uncle Jabez. +</p> +<p> +“Stop! Don’t! Gals!” cried the little old +woman, hobbling down the two steps into the +room. “Oh, my back! and oh, my bones! Gals! +stop him! That gun can’t shoot ’cause I went and +plugged the barrel!” +</p> +<p> +At that moment Old Betsey went off with an +awful roar. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—THE CALL OF THE DRUM</h2> +<p> +There was a flash following the explosion, and +Uncle Jabez staggered back from the doorway, +his arm across his eyes, while the gun dropped +with a crash to the porch. The girls, as well as +Aunt Alvirah, shrieked. +</p> +<p> +“I vum!” ejaculated the miller. “Who done +that? What’s happened to Old Betsey?” +</p> +<p> +“Jabez Potter!” shrilled the little old woman, +“didn’t I tell you to git rid o’ that gun long ago? +Be you shot?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said the miller grimly. “I’m only +scare’t. Old Betsey never kicked like that afore.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was at his side patting his shoulder and +looking at him anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks!” scoffed the miller. “I ain’t dead yit. +But what made that gun——” +</p> +<p> +He stooped and picked it up. First he looked +at the twisted hammer, then he turned it around +and looked into the muzzle. +</p> +<p> +“For the good land o’ liberty!” he yelled. +“What’s the meanin’ of this? Who—who’s gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +and stuck up this here gun bar’l this a-way? I +vum! It’s <em>ce</em>-ment—sure’s I’m a foot high.” +</p> +<p> +“What did you want to tetch that gun for, Jabez +Potter?” demanded Aunt Alvirah, easing herself +into a low rocker. “Oh, my back! and oh, +my bones! I allus warned you ‘twould do some +harm some day. That’s why I plugged it up.” +</p> +<p> +“You—you plugged it up?” gasped the miller. +“Wha—what for I want to know?” +</p> +<p> +“So, if ’twas loaded, no bullet would get out +and hurt anybody,” declared the little old woman +promptly. “Now, you kin get mad and use bad +language, Jabez Potter, if you’ve a mind to. But +I’d ruther go back to the poorhouse to live than +stay under this ruff with that gun all ready to shoot +with.” +</p> +<p> +The miller was so thunderstruck for a moment +that he could not reply. Ruth feared he might fly +into a temper, for he was not a patient man. But, +oddly enough, he never raged at the little old +housekeeper. +</p> +<p> +“I vum!” he said at last. “Don’t that beat all? +An’ ain’t it like a woman? Stickin’ up the muzzle +of the gun so’s it couldn’t shoot—but <em>would</em> explode. +Shucks!” He suddenly flung up both +hands. “Can you beat ’em? <em>You can’t!</em>” +</p> +<p> +Now that it was all over, and the accident had +not caused any fatality, the two girls felt like +laughing—a hysterical feeling perhaps. They got +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +Aunt Alvirah into the larger kitchen and left +Uncle Jabez to nail up the box that he was going +to ship for Ruth to Red Cross headquarters. +</p> +<p> +The girl of the Red Mill had been gathering +the knitted wear and comfort kits from the neighbors +around to send on to the Red Cross headquarters, +and, in the immediate vicinity of the +Red Mill, she knew that the women and girls were +doing a better work for the cause than in Cheslow +itself. +</p> +<p> +The mill and the rambling old house that adjoined +and belonged to Uncle Jabez Potter stood +upon the bank of the Lumano River, and was as +beautiful a spot as one might find in that part of +the state. Ruth Fielding had always loved it since +the first day her eyes had spied it, when as a little +girl she had come to live with her cross and +crotchety Uncle Jabez. +</p> +<p> +The miller was a miserly man, and, at first, +Ruth had had no pleasant time as a dependent +on her uncle. Had it not been for Aunt Alvirah +Boggs, who was nobody’s relative but everybody’s +aunt, and whom Uncle Jabez had taken from the +poorhouse to keep house for him, the lonely little +orphan girl would have been quite heartbroken. +</p> +<p> +With Aunt Alvirah’s help and the consolation +of her philosophy, as well as with the aid of the +friendship of Helen and Tom Cameron, who were +neighbors, Ruth Fielding began to be happy. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +really unhappy thereafter she never could be, for +something was always happening to her, and the +active person is seldom if ever in the doldrums. +</p> +<p> +In the first volume of the series, “Ruth Fielding +of the Red Mill,” these and others of Ruth’s +friends were introduced, and the girl began to +develop that sturdy and independent character +which has made her loved by so many. With +Helen she went to Briarwood Hall to boarding +school, and there her acquaintance rapidly widened. +For some years her course is traced through +several volumes, at school and during vacations at +different places where exciting and most delightful +adventures happen to Ruth and her friends. +</p> +<p> +In following volumes we meet Ruth Fielding +at Snow Camp, at Lighthouse Point, at Silver +Ranch, on Cliff Island, at Sunrise Farm, in a +Gypsy camp, in Moving Pictures, down in Dixie, +and, finally, she graduates from Briarwood Hall, +and she and her chums enter Ardmore College. +At the beginning of this, the thirteenth volume of +the series, Ruth and Helen were quite grown up. +Following their first year at Ardmore, Ruth had +gone West to write and develop a moving picture +for the Alectrion Film Corporation, in which she +now owned an interest. +</p> +<p> +In “Ruth Fielding in the Saddle; or, College +Girls in the Land of Gold,” an account of this adventure +is narrated, the trip occupying most of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +the first summer following Ruth’s freshman year. +Ruth’s success as a writer of moving-picture scenarios +of the better class had already become established. +“The Forty-Niners” had become one +of the most successful of the big scenarios shown +during the winter just previous to the opening of +our present story. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had made much money. Together with +what she had made in selling a claim she had +staked out at Freezeout, where the pictures were +taken, her bank accounts and investments now ran +well into five figures. She really did not want +Uncle Jabez to know exactly how much she had +made and had saved. Mr. Cameron, Helen’s +father, had her finances in charge, although the +girl of the Red Mill was quite old enough, and +quite wise enough, to attend to her own affairs. +</p> +<p> +Interest in Red Cross work had smitten Ruth +and Helen and many of their associates at college. +Not alone had the men’s colleges become markedly +empty during that previous winter; but the +girls’ schools and colleges were buzzing with excitement +regarding the war and war work. +</p> +<p> +As soon as Congress declared a state of war +with Germany, Ruth and Helen had hurried home. +Cheslow, the nearest town, was an insular community, +and many of the people in it were hard to +awaken to the needs of the hour. Because of the +peaceful and satisfied life the people led they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +could not understand what war really meant. +</p> +<p> +Cheslow and the vicinity of the Red Mill was +not alone in this. Many, many communities were +yet to be awakened. +</p> +<p> +Ruth bore these facts very much on her heart. +She was doing all that she could to strike a note +of alarm that should awaken Cheslow. +</p> +<p> +Despite Uncle Jabez Potter’s patriotism, she +would have been afraid to tell him just how much +she had personally subscribed for the work of the +Red Cross and for other war activities. And, +likewise, in her heart was another secret—a longing +to be doing something of moment for the +cause. She wanted to really enlist for the war! +She wished she might be “over there” in body, as +well as in spirit. +</p> +<p> +Not only were the drums calling to Tom Cameron +and his friends, and many, many other boys, +but they were calling the girls to arms as well. +Never before has war so soon and so suddenly +offered womankind a chance to aid in an undying +cause. +</p> +<p> +Yet Ruth did not neglect the small and seemingly +unimportant duties right at hand. She was +no dreamer or dallier. Having got off this big +box of comforts for the boys at the front, the very +next day she, with Helen, took up the effort +already begun of a house-to-house campaign +throughout Cheslow for Red Cross members, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +to invite the feminine part of the community to +aid in a big drive for knitted goods. +</p> +<p> +The Ladies’ Aid Society of the Methodist Episcopal +Church was meeting that day with Mrs. +Curtis, the wife of the railroad station agent and +the mother of one of Ruth’s friends at boarding +school. Mercy Curtis, having quite outgrown her +childish ills, welcomed the friends when they rang +the bell. +</p> +<p> +“Do come in and help me bear the chatter of +this flock of starlings,” Mercy said. “Glad to see +you, girlies!” and she kissed both Ruth and Helen. +</p> +<p> +“But I am afraid I want to join the starlings, +as you call them,” Ruth said demurely; “and even +add to their chatter. I came here for just that +purpose.” +</p> +<p> +“For just what purpose?” Mercy demanded. +</p> +<p> +“To talk to them. I knew the crowd would be +here, and so I thought I could kill two birds with +one stone.” +</p> +<p> +“Two birds, only?” sniffed Mercy. “Kill ’em +all, for all I care! I’ll run and find you some +stones.” +</p> +<p> +“My ammunition are hard words only,” +laughed Ruth. “I want to tell them that they are +not doing their share for the Red Cross.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Mercy. “Humph! Well, +Ruthie, you have come at an unseasonable time, I +fear. Mrs. Mantel is here.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Mantel!” murmured Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“The woman in black!” exclaimed Helen. +“Well, Mercy, what has she been saying?” +</p> +<p> +“Enough, I think,” the other girl replied. “At +least, I have an idea that most of the women in +the Ladies’ Aid believe that it is better to go on +with the usual sewing and foreign and domestic +mission work, and let the Red Cross strictly +alone.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—THE WOMAN IN BLACK</h2> +<p> +“Do you mean to say,” demanded Helen Cameron, +with some anger, “that they have no interest +in the war, or in our boys who will soon begin to +go over there? Impossible!” +</p> +<p> +“I repeat that,” said Ruth. “‘Impossible,’ indeed.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, each may knit for her own kin or for other +organizations,” Mercy said. “I am repeating +what I have just heard, that is all. Girls! I am +just boiling!” +</p> +<p> +“I can imagine it,” Helen said. “I am beginning +to simmer myself.” +</p> +<p> +“Wait. Let us be calm,” urged Ruth, smiling +as she laid off her things, preparatory to going +into the large front room where Mrs. Curtis was +entertaining the Ladies’ Aid Society. +</p> +<p> +“Is it all because of that woman in black?” demanded +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Well, she has been pointing out that the Red +Cross is a great money-making scheme, and that +it really doesn’t need our small contributions.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +</p> +<p> +“And she is a member herself!” snapped Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Well, she joined, of course, because she did +not want anybody to think she wasn’t patriotic,” +scoffed Mercy. “That is the way she puts it. But +you ought to hear the stories she has been telling +these poor, simple women.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you ever!” cried Helen angrily. +</p> +<p> +“It is well we came here,” Ruth said firmly. +“Let me into the lions’ den, Mercy.” +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid they are another breed of cats. +There is little noble or lionlike about some of +them.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen were quite used to Mercy +Curtis’ sharp tongue. It was well known. But it +was evident, too, that the girl had been roused +to fury by what she had heard at the meeting of +the Ladies’ Aid Society. +</p> +<p> +The ladies of the church society were, for the +most part, very good people indeed. But at this +time the war was by no means popular in Cheslow +(as it was not in many places) and the plague of +pacifism, if not actually downright pro-German +propaganda, was active and malignant. +</p> +<p> +When the door into the big front room was +opened and the girls entered, Mrs. Curtis rose +hastily to welcome Ruth and Helen warmly. The +women were, for the most part, busily sewing. +But, of course, that puts no brake upon the activities +of the tongue. Indeed, the needle seems to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +particularly helpful as an accompaniment to a +“dish of gossip.” +</p> +<p> +“I still think it is terrible,” one woman was saying +quite earnestly to another, who was one of the +few idle women in the room, “if an organization +like that cannot be trusted.” +</p> +<p> +The idle woman was dressed plainly but elegantly +in black, with just a touch of white at wrists +and throat. She was a graceful woman, tall, not +yet forty, and with a set smile on her face that +might have been the outward sign of a sweet temperament, +and then—— +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Mantel!” whispered Helen to Ruth. “I +do not like her one bit. And nobody knows where +she came from or who she is. Cheslow has only +been her abiding place since we went to college +last autumn.” +</p> +<p> +“Sh!” whispered Ruth in return. “I am interested.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I assure you, my dear Mrs. Crothers, +that it may not be the organization’s fault,” +purred the woman in black. “The objects of the +Red Cross are very worthy. None more so. But +in certain places—locally, you know—of course I +don’t mean here in Cheslow—— +</p> +<p> +“Yet I could tell you of something that happened +to me to-day. I was quite hurt—quite +shocked, indeed. I saw on the street a sweater +that I knitted myself last winter.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh! On a soldier?” asked another of the +women who heard. “How nice!” +</p> +<p> +“No, indeed. No soldier,” said Mrs. Mantel +quickly. “On a girl. Fancy! On a girl I had +never seen before. And I gave that to the Red +Cross with my own hands.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps it belonged to the girl’s brother,” another +of the women observed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no!” Mrs. Mantel was eager to say. “I +asked her. Naturally I was curious—very curious. +I said to her, ‘Where did you get the +sweater, my girl, if you will pardon my asking?’ +And she told me she bought it in a store here in +Cheslow.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my!” gasped another of the group. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean to say the Red Cross sells the +things people knit for them?” cried Mrs. Crothers. +</p> +<p> +“How horrid!” drawled another. “Well, you +never can tell about these charitable organizations +that are not connected with the church.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding broke her silence and quite calmly +asked: +</p> +<p> +“Will you tell me who the girl was and where +she said she bought the sweater, Mrs. Mantel?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I never saw the girl before,” said the lady +in black. +</p> +<p> +“But she told you the name of the store where +she said she purchased it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +</p> +<p> +“No-o. What does it matter? I recognized +my own sweater!” exclaimed the woman in black, +with a toss of her head. +</p> +<p> +“Are you quite sure, Mrs. Mantel,” pursued the +girl of the Red Mill insistently but quite calmly, +“that you could not have made a mistake?” +</p> +<p> +“Mistake? How?” snapped the other. +</p> +<p> +“Regarding the identity of the sweater.” +</p> +<p> +“I tell you I recognized it. I know I knitted +it. I certainly know my own work. And why +should I be cross-questioned, please?” +</p> +<p> +“My name is Ruth Fielding,” Ruth explained. +“I happen to have at present a very deep interest +in the Red Cross work—especially in our local +chapter. Did you give your sweater to our local +chapter?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—no. But what does that matter?” and +the woman in black began to show anger. “Do +you doubt my word?” +</p> +<p> +“You offer no corroborative evidence, and you +make a very serious charge,” Ruth said. “Don’t +be angry. If what you say is true, it is a terrible +thing. Of course, there may be people using the +name of the Red Cross who are neither patriotic +nor honest. Let us run each of these seemingly +wicked things down—if it is possible. Let us get +at the truth.” +</p> +<p> +“I have told you the truth, Miss Fielding. And +I consider you insulting—most unladylike.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Mantel,” said Ruth Fielding gravely, +“whether I speak and act as a lady should make +little material difference in the long run. But +whether a great organization, which is working +for the amelioration of suffering on the battle +front and in our training camps, is maligned, is +of very great moment, indeed. +</p> +<p> +“In my presence no such statement as you have +just made can go unchallenged. You must help +me prove, or disprove it. We must find the girl +and discover just how she came by the sweater. +If it had been stolen and given to her she would +be very likely to tell you just what you say she +did. But that does not prove the truth of her +statement.” +</p> +<p> +“Nor of mine, I suppose you would say!” cried +Mrs. Mantel. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly. If you are fair-minded at all you +will aid me in this investigation. For I purpose +to take up every such calumny that I can and trace +it to its source.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth, don’t take it so seriously!” Mrs. +Curtis murmured, and most of the women looked +their displeasure. But Helen clapped her hands +softly, saying: +</p> +<p> +“Bully for you, Ruthie!” +</p> +<p> +Mercy’s eyes glowed with satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +Ruth became silent for a moment, for the +woman in black evidently intended to give her no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +satisfaction. Mrs. Mantel continued to state, +however, for all to hear: +</p> +<p> +“I certainly know my own knitting, and my own +yarn. I have knitted enough of the sweaters +according to the Red Cross pattern to sink a ship! +I would know one of my sweaters half a block +away at least.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth had been watching the woman very keenly. +Mrs. Mantel’s hands were perfectly idle in her +lap. They were very white and very well cared +for. Ruth’s vision came gradually to a focus upon +those idle hands. +</p> +<p> +Then suddenly she turned to Mercy and whispered +a question. Mercy nodded, but looked +curiously at the girl of the Red Mill. When the +latter explained further Mercy Curtis’ eyes began +to snap. She nodded again and went out of +the room. +</p> +<p> +When she returned with a loosely wrapped +bundle in her hands she moved around to where +the woman in black was sitting. The conversation +had now become general, and all were trying +their best to get away from the previous topic of +tart discussion. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Mantel,” said Mercy very sweetly, “you +must know a lot about knitting sweaters, you’ve +made so many. Would you help me?” +</p> +<p> +“Help you do what, child?” asked the woman +in black, rather startled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +</p> +<p> +“I am going to begin one,” explained Mercy, +“and I do wish, Mrs. Mantel, that you would +show me how. I’m dreadfully ignorant about the +whole thing, you know.” +</p> +<p> +There was a sudden silence all over the room. +Mrs. Mantel’s ready tongue seemed stayed. The +pallor of her face was apparent, as innocent-looking +Mercy, with the yarn and needles held +out to her, waited for an affirmative reply. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—“CAN A POILU LOVE A FAT GIRL?”</h2> +<p> +The shocked silence continued for no more than +a minute. Mrs. Mantel was a quick-witted +woman, if she was nothing else commendable. +But every member of the Ladies’ Aid Society +knew what Mercy Curtis’ question meant. +</p> +<p> +“My dear child,” said the woman in black, +smiling her set smile but rising promptly, “I +shall have to do that for you another day. +Really I haven’t the time just now to help you +start any knitting. But later—— +</p> +<p> +“I am sure you will forgive me for running +away so early, Mrs. Curtis; but I have another +engagement. And,” she shot a malignant glance +at Ruth Fielding, “I am not used to being +taken to task upon any subject by these college-chits!” +</p> +<p> +She went out of the room in a manner that, +had she been thirty years younger, could have +been called “flounced”—head tossing and skirts +swishing with resentment. Several of the women +looked at the girl of the Red Mill askance, although +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +they dared not criticize Mercy Curtis, for +they knew her sharp tongue too well. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Pubsby,” Ruth said quietly to the pleasant-faced, +Quakerish-looking president of the society, +“may I say a word to the ladies?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you may, Ruthie,” said the good +woman comfortably. “I have known you ever +since you came to Jabez Potter’s, and I never +knew you to say a dishonest or unkind word. You +just get it off your mind. It’ll do you good, child—and +maybe do some of us good. I don’t know +but we’re—just a mite—getting religiously +selfish.” +</p> +<p> +“I have no idea of trying to urge you ladies to +give up any of your regular charities, or trying to +undermine your interest in them. I merely hope +you will broaden your interests enough to include +the Red Cross work before it is too late.” +</p> +<p> +“How too late?” asked Mrs. Crothers, rather +snappishly. She had evidently been both disturbed +and influenced by the woman in black. +</p> +<p> +“So that our boys—some of them your sons and +relatives—will not get over to France before the +Red Cross is ready to supply them with the comforts +they may need next winter. It is not impossible +that boys right from Cheslow will be over +there before cold weather.” +</p> +<p> +“The war will be over long before then, +Ruthie,” said Mrs. Pubsby complacently. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ve heard Dr. Cummings, the pastor, say +that he is told once in about so often that the devil +is dead,” Ruth said smiling. “But he is never +going to believe it until he can personally help +bury him. Our Government is going about this +war as though it might last five years. Are we +so much wiser than the men at the head of the +nation—even if we have the vote?” she added, +slyly. +</p> +<p> +“It does not matter whether the war will be +ended in a few weeks, or in ten years. We should +do our part in preparing for it. And the Red +Cross is doing great and good work—and has +been doing it for years and years. When people +like the lady who has just gone out repeat and +invent slanders against the Red Cross I must stand +up and deny them. At least, such scandal-mongers +should be made to prove their statements.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth Fielding! That is not a kind word,” +said Mrs. Crothers. +</p> +<p> +“Will you supply me with one that will satisfactorily +take its place?” asked Ruth sweetly. “I +do not wish to accuse Mrs. Mantel of actually +prevaricating; but I do claim the right of asking +her to prove her statements, and that she seems +to decline to do. +</p> +<p> +“And I shall challenge every person I meet who +utters such false and ridiculous stories about the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +Red Cross. It is an out-and-out pro-German +propaganda.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Mrs. Mantel is a member of the Red +Cross herself,” said Mrs. Crothers sharply. +</p> +<p> +“She evidently is not loyal to her pledge then,” +Ruth replied with bluntness. “The lady is not a +member of our local chapter, and I have failed +yet to hear of her being engaged in any activity +for the Red Cross. +</p> +<p> +“But I want you ladies—all of you—to take +the Red Cross work to heart and to learn what +the insignia stands for.” +</p> +<p> +With that the earnest girl entered upon a brief +but moving appeal for members to the local chapter, +for funds, and for workers. As Helen said +afterward, Ruth’s “mouth was opened and she +spake with the tongues of angels!” +</p> +<p> +At least, her words did not go for naught. +Several dollar memberships were secured right +there and then. And Mrs. Brooks and Mary +Lardner promised a certain sum for the cause—both +generous gifts. Best of all, Mrs. Pubsby +said: +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know about this being shown our duty +by this wisp of a girl. But, ladies, she’s right—I +can feel it. And I always go by my feelings, +whether it’s in protracted meetings or in my rheumatic +knee. I feel we must do our part. +</p> +<p> +“This gray woolen sock I’m knitting was for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +my Ezekiel. But my Ezey has got plenty socks. +From now on I’m going to knit ’em for those +poor soldiers who will like enough get their feet +wet ditching over there in France, and will want +plenty changes of socks.” +</p> +<p> +So Ruth started something that afternoon, and +she went on doing more and more. Cheslow began +to awake slowly. The local chapter rooms +began to hum with life for several hours every +day and away into the evening. +</p> +<p> +In the Cameron car, which Helen drove so +that a chauffeur could be relieved to go into the +army, the two girls drove all about the countryside, +interesting the scattered families in war work +and picking up the knitted goods made in the +farmhouses and villages. +</p> +<p> +In many places they had to combat the same +sort of talk that the woman in black was giving +forth. Ruth was patient, but very insistent that +the Red Cross deserved no such criticism. +</p> +<p> +“Come into Cheslow and see what we are doing +there at our local headquarters. I will take +you in and bring you back. I’ll take you to the +county headquarters at Robinsburg. You will +there hear men and women speak who know much +more than I do about the work.” +</p> +<p> +This was the way she pleaded for fairness and +public interest, and a ride in a fine automobile was +a temptation to many of the women and girls. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +An afternoon in the rooms of a live Red Cross +chapter usually convinced and converted most of +these “Doubting Thomasines,” as Helen called +them. +</p> +<p> +Working with wool and other goods was all +right. But money was needed. A country-wide +drive was organized, and Ruth was proud that +she was appointed on the committee to conduct it. +Mr. Cameron, who was a wealthy department +store owner in the city, was made chairman of +this special committee, and he put much faith in +the ability of the girl of the Red Mill and his own +daughter to assist materially in the campaign for +funds. +</p> +<p> +“Get hold of every hardshell farmer in the +county,” he told the girls. “Begin with your +Uncle Jabez, Ruthie. If he leads with a goodly +sum many another old fellow who keeps his surplus +cash in a stocking or in the broken teapot +on the top cupboard shelf will come to time. +</p> +<p> +“The reason it is so hard to get contributions +out of men like Jabez Potter,” said Mr. Cameron +with a chuckle, “is because nine times out of ten +it means the giving up of actual money. They +have their cash hid away. It isn’t making them +a penny, but they like to hoard it, and some of +’em actually worship it. +</p> +<p> +“And not to be wondered at. It comes hard. +Their backs are bent and their fingers knotted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +from the toil of acquiring hard cash, dollar by +dollar and cent by cent. It is much easier to +write a check for a hundred dollars to give to a +good cause than it is to dig right down into one’s +jeans and haul out a ten-dollar note.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth knew just how hard this was going to be—to +interest the purses of the farming community +in the Red Cross drive. The farmers’ wives and +daughters were making their needles fly, but the +men merely considered the work something like +the usual yearly attempt to get funds out of them +for foreign missions. +</p> +<p> +“I tell ye what, Niece Ruth, I got my doubts,” +grumbled Uncle Jabez, when she broached the +subject of his giving generously to the cause. “I +dunno about so much money being needed for +what you’re callin’ the ‘waste of war’!” +</p> +<p> +“If you read those statistics, compiled under +the eyes of Government agents,” she told him, +“you must be convinced that it is already proved +by what has happened in France and Belgium—and +in other countries—during the three years of +war, that all this money will be needed, and +more.” +</p> +<p> +“I dunno. Millions! Them is a power of +dollars, Niece Ruth. You and lots of other folks +air too willing to spend money that other folks +have airned by the sweat of their brows.” +</p> +<p> +He offered her a sum that she was really +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +ashamed to put down at the top of her subscription +paper. She went about her task in the hope +that Uncle Jabez’s purse and heart would both be +opened for the cause. +</p> +<p> +Not that he was not patriotic. He was willing—indeed +anxious—to go to the front and give +his body for the cause of liberty. But Uncle +Jabez seemed to love his dollars better than he +did his body. +</p> +<p> +“Give him time, dearie, give him time,” murmured +Aunt Alvirah, rocking back and forth in +her low chair. “The idea of giving up a dollar +to Jabez Potter’s mind is bigger than the shooting +of a thousand men. Poor boys! Poor boys! +How many of them may lack comforts and hospitals +while the niggard people like Jabez Potter +air wakin’ up?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s heart was very sore about the going +over of the American expeditionary forces at this +time, too. She said little to Helen about it, but +the fact that Tom Cameron—her very oldest +friend about the Red Mill and Cheslow—looked +forward to going at the first moment possible, +brought the war very close to the girl. +</p> +<p> +The feeling within her that she should go across +to France and actually help in some way grew +stronger and stronger as the days went by. Then +came a letter from Jennie Stone. +</p> +<p> +“Heavy,” as she had always been called in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +school and even in college, was such a fun-loving, +light-hearted girl that it quite shocked both Ruth +and Helen when they learned that she was already +in real work for the poor poilus and was +then about to sail for France. +</p> +<p> +Jennie Stone’s people were wealthy, and her +social acquaintances were, many of them, idle +women and girls. But the war had awakened +these drones, and with them the plump girl. An +association for the establishment and upkeep of +a convalescent home in France had been formed in +Jennie’s neighborhood, and Jennie, who had always +been fond of cooking—both in the making +of the dishes and the assimilation of the +same—was actually going to work in the diet +kitchen. +</p> +<p> +“And who knows,” the letter ended in Heavy’s +characteristic way, “but that I shall fall in love +with one of the <em>blessés</em>. What a sweet name for +a wounded soldier! And, just tell me! Do you +think it possible? Can a poilu love a fat girl?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—“THE BOYS OF THE DRAFT”</h2> +<p> +“My goodness, Ruth Fielding!” demanded +Helen, after reading the characteristic letter from +Jennie Stone, “if she can go to France why can’t +we?” +</p> +<p> +Helen’s changed attitude did not surprise her +chum much. Ruth was quite used to Helen’s +vagaries. The latter was very apt to declare +against a course of action, for herself or her +friends, and then change over night. +</p> +<p> +The thought of her twin brother going to war +had at first shocked and startled Helen. Now +she added: +</p> +<p> +“For you know very well, Ruth Fielding, that +Tom Cameron should not be allowed to go over +there to France all alone.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness, Helen!” gasped the girl of the Red +Mill, “you don’t suppose that Tom is going to +constitute an Army of Invasion in his own person, +and attempt to whip the whole of Germany +before the rest of Uncle Sam’s boys jump +in?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +</p> +<p> +“You may laugh!” cried Helen. “He’s only +a boy—and boys can’t get along without somebody +to look out for them. He never would +change his flannels at the right time, or keep his +feet dry.” +</p> +<p> +“I know you have always felt the overwhelming +responsibility of Tom’s upbringing, even +when he was at Seven Oaks and you and I were +at Briarwood.” +</p> +<p> +“Every boy needs the oversight of some feminine +eye. And I expect he’ll fall in love with the +first French girl he meets over there unless I’m +on the spot to warn him,” Helen went on. +</p> +<p> +“They are most attractive, I believe,” laughed +Ruth cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“‘Chic,’ as Madame Picolet used to say. You +remember her, our French teacher at Briarwood?” +Helen said. +</p> +<p> +“Poor little Picolet!” Ruth returned with +some gravity. “Do you know she has been writing +me?” +</p> +<p> +“Madame Picolet? You never said a word +about it!” +</p> +<p> +“But you knew she returned to France soon +after the war began?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes. I knew that. But—but, to tell the +truth, I hadn’t thought of her at all for a long +time. Why does she write to you?” +</p> +<p> +“For help,” said Ruth quietly. “She has a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +work among soldiers’ widows and orphans—a +very worthy charity, indeed. I looked it up.” +</p> +<p> +“And sent her money, I bet!” cried the vigorous +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Why—yes—what I felt I could spare,” Ruth +admitted. +</p> +<p> +“And never told any of us girls about it. +Think! All the Briarwood girls who knew little +Picolet!” Helen said with some heat. “Why +shouldn’t we have had a part in helping her, too?” +</p> +<p> +“My dear,” said her chum seriously, “do you +realize how little interest any of us felt in the +war until this last winter? And now our own +dear country is in it and we must think of our +own boys who are going, rather than of the needs +of the French, or the British, or even the Belgians.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth!” cried Helen suddenly, “perhaps +Madame Picolet might help us to get over there.” +</p> +<p> +“Over to France?” +</p> +<p> +“I mean to get into some work in France. She +knows us. She may have some influence,” said +the eager Helen. +</p> +<p> +But Ruth slowly shook her head. “No,” she +said. “If I go over there it must be to work for +our own boys. They are going. They will need +us. I want to do my all for Uncle Sam—for +these United States—and,” she added, pointing +to Uncle Jabez’s flag upon the pole in front of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +the Red Mill farmhouse, “for the blessed old +flag. I am sorry for the wounded of our allies; +but the time has come now for us to think of the +needs of our own soldiers first. They are going +over. First our regular army and the guard; +then the boys of the draft.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, yes! The boys of the draft,” sighed +Helen. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Ruth seized her chum’s wrist. “I’ve +got it, Helen! That is it! ‘<em>The boys of the +draft.</em>’” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! What’s the matter with you +now?” demanded Helen, wide-eyed. +</p> +<p> +“We will screen it. It will be great!” cried +Ruth. “I’ll go and see Mr. Hammond at once. +I can write the scenario in a few days, and it will +not take long to film it. The story of the draft, +and what the Red Cross can and will do for the +boys over there. Put it on the screen and show +it wherever a Red Cross drive is made during the +next few months. We’ll do it, Helen!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Yes! We’ll—do—it!” gasped her +chum breathlessly. “You mean that you will do +it and that I haven’t the first idea of what it is +you mean to do.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you have. A big film called ‘The +Boys of the Draft,’ taking a green squad right +through their training from the very first day +they are in camp. Fake the French and war +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +scenes, of course, but show the spectators just +what may and will happen over there and what +the Red Cross will do for the brave hearts who +fight for the country.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was excited. No doubt of that. Her +cheeks burned. Her eyes shone. She gestured +vigorously. +</p> +<p> +“I know you don’t see it as I do, honey,” she +added. “I can visualize the whole thing right +now. And Helen!” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness, yes!” gasped Helen. “What +now?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to make Uncle Jabez see it! You +just see if I don’t.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—THE PATRIOTISM OF THE PURSE</h2> +<p> +While she was yet at boarding school at Briarwood +Hall Ruth had been successful in writing a +scenario for the Alectrion Film Corporation. +This is told of in “Ruth Fielding in Moving +Pictures.” Its production had been a matter to +arouse both the interest and amazement of her +friends. Mr. Hammond, the president of the +film-producing company, considered her a genius +in screen matters, and it was a fact that she had +gained a very practical grasp of the whole moving +picture business. +</p> +<p> +“The Heart of a Schoolgirl,” which Ruth had +written under spur of a great need at Briarwood +Hall, had practically rebuilt one of the dormitories +which had been destroyed by fire at a time +when the insurance on that particular building +had run out. +</p> +<p> +One of her romantic scenarios had been +screened at the Red Mill and on the picturesque +Lumano and along its banks. Then, less than a +year before, “The Forty-Niners” had been made; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +and during the succeeding winter this picture had +been shown all over the country and, as the +theatrical people say, “had played to big business.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth had bought stock in the corporation and +was sometimes actually consulted now by Mr. +Hammond and the heads of departments as to +the policies of the concern. As the president +of the corporation had already written her, +the time was about ripe for another “big” +film. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was expected to suggest the idea, +at least, although the working out of the story +would probably be left to the director in the field. +He knew his people, his properties, and his locations. +The bare skeleton of the story was what +Mr. Hammond wanted. +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s success in making virile “The Forty-Niners” +urged Mr. Hammond to hope for something +as good from her now. And, like most +composers of every kind, the real inspiration for +the new reel wonder had leaped to life on the +instant in her brain. +</p> +<p> +The idea of “The Boys of the Draft” came +from her talk with her chum, Helen Cameron. +Helen had a limited amount of pride in Ruth’s +success on this occasion for, as she said, she had +blunderingly “sicked Ruth on.” But, oddly +enough, Ruth Fielding’s first interest in the success +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +of the new picture was in what effect it might +have upon Uncle Jabez Potter’s purse. +</p> +<p> +The drive for Red Cross contributions was on +now all over the country. That effort confined +to the county in which Cheslow and the Red Mill +were located had begun early; but it had +gone stumblingly. Indeed, as Helen said, if +it was a drive, it was about like driving home the +cows! +</p> +<p> +Mr. Cameron had expected much of Ruth and +his own daughter among the farming people; but +they were actually behind the collectors who +worked in the towns. It was at a time in the year +when the men of the scattered communities were +working hard out of doors; and it is difficult to +interest farmers in anything but their crops during +the growing season. Indeed, it is absolutely +necessary that they should give their main attention +to those crops if a good harvest is to be +secured. +</p> +<p> +But Ruth felt that she was failing in this work +for the Red Cross just because she could not +interest her uncle, the old miller, sufficiently in +the matter. If she could not get him enthused, +how could she expect to obtain large contributions +from strangers? +</p> +<p> +After seeing a screen production of Ruth’s play +of the old West Uncle Jabez had for the first +time realized what a really wonderful thing the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +filming of such pictures was. He admitted that +Ruth’s time was not being thrown away. +</p> +<p> +Then, he respected the ability of anybody who +could make money, and he saw this girl, whom he +had “taken in out of charity” as he had more than +once said, making more money in a given time—and +making it more easily—than he did in his +mill and through his mortgages and mining +investments. +</p> +<p> +If Uncle Jabez did not actually bow down to +the Golden Calf, he surely did think highly of +financial success. And he had begun to realize +that all this education Ruth had been getting +(quite unnecessary he had first believed) had led +her into a position where she was “making good.” +</p> +<p> +Through this slant in Uncle Jabez’s mind the +girl began to hope that she might encourage him +to do much more for the cause her heart was so +set on than he seemed willing to do. Uncle Jabez +was patriotic, but his patriotism had not as yet +affected his pocket. +</p> +<p> +As soon as Uncle Jabez knew that Ruth contemplated +helping to make another picture he +showed interest. He wanted to know about it, +and he figured with Aunt Alvirah “how much that +gal might make out’n her idees.” +</p> +<p> +“For goodness’ sake, Jabez Potter!” exclaimed +the little old woman, “ain’t you got airy idee in +your head ’cept money making?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +</p> +<p> +“I calc’late,” said the miller grimly, “that it’s +my idees about money in the past has give me what +I’ve got.” +</p> +<p> +“But our Ruthie is going to git up a big, patriotic +picture—somethin’ to stir the hearts of the +people when they think the boys air actually going +over to help them French folks win the war.” +</p> +<p> +“I wish,” cried the old woman shrilly, “that I +warn’t too old and too crooked, to do something +myself for the soldiers. But my back an’ +my bones won’t let me, Jabez. And I ain’t got no +bank account. All I can do is to pray.” +</p> +<p> +The miller looked at her with his usual grim +smile. Perhaps it was a little quizzical on this +occasion. +</p> +<p> +“Do you calc’late to do any prayin’ about this +here filum Ruth is going to make, ‘The Boys of +the Draft’?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“I sartinly be—for her success and the good it +may do.” +</p> +<p> +“By gum! she’ll make money, then,” declared +Uncle Jabez, who had unbounded faith in the +religion Aunt Alvirah professed—but he did +not. +</p> +<p> +Ruth, hearing this, developed another of her +inspirational ideas. Uncle Jabez fell into a trap +she laid for him, after having taken Mr. Hammond +into her confidence regarding what she proposed +doing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +</p> +<p> +“I reckon you’ll make a mint of money out’n +this draft story,” the miller said one evening, +when the actual work on the photographing of +the film was well under way. +</p> +<p> +“I hope so,” admitted Ruth slowly. “But I +am afraid some parts of it will have to be cut or +changed because it would cost more than Mr. +Hammond cares to put into it at this time. You +know, the Alectrion Corporation is in the field +with several big things, and it takes a lot of +money.” +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t he borry it?” demanded the miller +sharply. +</p> +<p> +“He never does that. The only way in which +he accepts outside capital is to let moneyed men +buy into a picture he is making, taking their +chance along with the rest of us that the picture +will be a success.” +</p> +<p> +“Yep. An’ if it ain’t a success?” asked the +miller shrewdly. +</p> +<p> +“Then their money is lost.” +</p> +<p> +“Ahem! That’s a hard sayin’,” muttered the +old man. “But if it does make a hit—like that +Forty-Niner story of yourn, Niece Ruth—then the +feller that buys in makes a nice little pile?” +</p> +<p> +“Our successes,” Ruth said with pride, “have +run from fifty to two hundred per cent profit.” +</p> +<p> +“My soul! Two hunderd! Ain’t that perfec’ly +scand’lous?” muttered Uncle Jabez. “An’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +here jest last week I let Amos Blodgett have a +thousand dollars on his farm at five an’ a ha’f per +cent.” +</p> +<p> +“But that investment is perfectly safe,” Ruth +said slyly. +</p> +<p> +“My soul! Yes. Blodgett’s lower forty’s +wuth more’n the mortgage. But sech winnin’s as +you speak of——! Niece Ruth how much is +needed to make this picture the kind of a picture +you want it to be?” +</p> +<p> +She told him—as she and Mr. Hammond had +already agreed. The idea was to divide the cost +in three parts and let Uncle Jabez invest to the +amount of one of the shares if he would. +</p> +<p> +“But, you see, Uncle Jabez, Mr. Hammond +does not feel as confident as I do about ‘The Boys +of the Draft,’ nor has he the same deep interest +in the picture. I want it to be a success—and I +believe it will be—because of the good it will do +the Red Cross campaign for funds.” +</p> +<p> +“Humph!” grunted the miller. “I’m bankin’ +on your winnin’ anyway.” And perhaps his belief +in the efficacy of Aunt Alvirah Boggs’ prayers +had something to do with his “buying into” the +new picture. +</p> +<p> +The screening of the great film was rushed. A +campaign of advertising was entered into and the +fact that a share of the profits from the film was +to be devoted to Red Cross work made it popular +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +at once. But Uncle Jabez showed some chagrin. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the meanin’ of it?” he demanded. +“Who’s goin’ to give his share of the profits to +any Red Cross? Not me!” +</p> +<p> +“But I am, Uncle Jabez,” Ruth said lightly. +“That was my intention from the first. But, of +course, that has nothing to do with you.” +</p> +<p> +“I sh’d say not! I sh’d say not!” grumbled +the miller. “I ain’t likely to git into a good thing +an’ then throw the profit away. I sh’d say +not!” +</p> +<p> +The film was shown in New York, in several +other big cities, and in Cheslow simultaneously. +Ruth arranged for this first production with the +proprietor of the best movie house in the local +town, because she was anxious to see it and could +not spare the time to go to New York. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Hammond, as though inspired by Ruth’s +example, telegraphed on the day of the first exhibition +of the film that he would donate his share +of the profits as well to the Red Cross. +</p> +<p> +“‘Nother dern fool!” sputtered Uncle Jabez. +“Never see the beat. Wal! if you’n he both +want to give ‘way a small fortune, it’s your own +business, I suppose. All the less need of me givin’ +any of my share.” +</p> +<p> +He went with Ruth to see the production of +the film. Indeed, he would not have missed that +“first night” for the world. The pretty picture +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +house was crowded. It had got so that when +anything from the pen of the girl of the Red +Mill was produced the neighbors made a gala +day of it. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was proud of her success. And +she had nothing on this occasion to be sorry for, +the film being a splendid piece of work. +</p> +<p> +But, aside from this fact, “The Boys of the +Draft” was opportune, and the audience was +more than usually sensitive. The very next day +the first quota of the drafted boys from Cheslow +would march away to the training camp. +</p> +<p> +The hearts of the people were stirred. They +saw a faithful reproduction of what the boys +would go through in training, what they might +endure in the trenches, and particularly what the +Red Cross was doing for soldiers under similar +conditions elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +As though spellbound, Uncle Jabez sat through +the long reel. The appeal at the end, with the +Red Cross nurse in the hospital ward, the dying +soldier’s head pillowed upon her breast while she +whispered the comfort into his dulling ear that his +mother would have whispered—— +</p> +<p> +Ah, it brought the audience to its feet at the +“fadeout”—and in tears! It was so human, so +real, so touching, that there was little audible +comment as they filed out to the soft playing of +the organ. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +</p> +<p> +But Uncle Jabez burst out helplessly when +they were in the street. He wiped the tears from +the hard wrinkles of his old face with frankness +and his voice was husky as he declared: +</p> +<p> +“Niece Ruth! I’m converted to your Red +Cross. Dern it all! you kin have ev’ry cent of my +share of the profit on that picter—ev’ry cent!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—ON THE WAY</h2> +<p> +Tom Cameron came home on a furlough from +the officers’ training camp the day that the boys +of the first draft departed from Cheslow. It +stabbed the hearts of many mothers and fathers +with a quick pain to see him march through the +street so jaunty and debonair. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Tommy!” his sister cried. “You’re a +<em>man!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Lay off! Lay off!” begged her twin, not at +all pleased. “You might have awakened to the +fact that I was out of rompers some years ago. +Your eyesight has been bad.” +</p> +<p> +Indeed, he was rather inclined to ignore her +and “flock with his father,” as Helen put it to +Ruth. The father and son had something in +common now that the girl could not altogether +understand. They sat before the cold grate in +the library, their chairs drawn near to each other, +and smoked sometimes for an hour without saying +a word. +</p> +<p> +“But, Ruthie,” Helen said, her eyes big and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +moist, “each seems to know just what the other is +thinking about. Sometimes papa says a word, +and sometimes Tom; and the other nods and +there is perfect understanding. It—it’s almost +uncanny.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I know what you mean,” said the more +observant girl of the Red Mill. “We grew up +some time ago, Helen. And you know we have +rather thought of Tom as a boy, still. +</p> +<p> +“But he is a man now. There is a difference +in the sexes in their attitude to this war which +should establish in all our minds that we are not +equal.” +</p> +<p> +“Who aren’t equal?” demanded Helen, almost +wrathfully, for she was a militant feminist. +</p> +<p> +“Men and women are not equal, dear. And +they never will be. Wearing mannish clothes and +doing mannish labor will never give women the +same outlook upon life that men have. And when +men encourage us to believe that our minds are +the same as theirs, they do it almost always for +their own selfish ends—or because there is something +feminine about their minds.” +</p> +<p> +“Traitor!” cried Helen. +</p> +<p> +“No,” sighed Ruth. “Only honesty. +</p> +<p> +“Tom and his father understand each other’s +thoughts and feelings as you and your father never +could. After all, in the strongest association between +father and daughter there is the barrier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +of sex that cannot be surmounted. You know +yourself, Helen, that at a certain point you consider +your father much of a big boy and treat him +accordingly. That, they tell us, is the ‘mother +instinct’ in the female, and I guess it is. +</p> +<p> +“On the other hand, I have seen girls and +their mothers together (we never had mothers +after we were little kiddies, Helen, and we’ve +missed it) but I have seen such perfect understanding +and appreciation between mothers and +their daughters that it was as though the same +soul dwelt in two bodies.” +</p> +<p> +Helen sniffed in mingled scorn and doubt over +Ruth’s philosophy. Then she said in an aggrieved +tone: “But papa and Tom ought not to shut me +out of their lives—even in a small way.” +</p> +<p> +“The penalty of being a girl,” replied Ruth, +practically. “Tom doesn’t believe, I suppose, that +girls would quite understand his manly feelings,” +she added with a sudden elfish smile. +</p> +<p> +“Cat’s foot!” ejaculated the twin, with +scorn. +</p> +<p> +Tom Cameron, however, did not run altogether +true to form if Ruth was right in her philosophy. +He had always been used to talking seriously at +times with Ruth, and during this furlough he +found time to have a long and confidential talk +with the girl of the Red Mill. This might be the +only furlough he would have before sailing for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +France, for he had already obtained his commission +as second lieutenant. +</p> +<p> +There was an understanding between the young +man and Ruth Fielding—an unspoken and tacit +feeling that they were “made for each other.” +They were young. Ruth’s thoughts had never +dwelt much upon love and marriage. She never +looked on each man she met half-wonderingly as +a possible husband. She had never met any man +with this feeling. Perhaps, in part, that was, unconsciously +to herself, because Tom had always +been so a part of her life and her thoughts. +Lately, however, she had come to the realization +that if Tom should really ask her to marry him +when his education was completed and he was +established in the world, the girl of the Red Mill +would be very likely to consider his offer seriously. +</p> +<p> +“Things aren’t coming out just as we had +planned, Ruth,” the young man said on this occasion. +“I guess this war is going to knock a lot of +plans in the head. If it lasts several years, many +of us fellows, if we come through it safely, will +feel that we are too old to go back to college. +</p> +<p> +“Can you imagine a fellow who has spent +months in the trenches, and has done the things +that the soldiers are having to do and to endure +and to learn over there—can you imagine his +coming back here and going to school again?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Tom! I suppose that is so. The returned +soldier must feel vastly older and more experienced +in every way than men who have never +heard the bursting of shells and the rattle of +machine guns. Oh, dear, Tommy! Are we going +to know you at all when you come back?” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe not,” grinned Tom. “I may raise +whiskers. Most of the poilus do, I understand. +But you could not really imagine a regiment of +Uncle Sam’s soldiers that were not clean shaven.” +</p> +<p> +“We want to see it all, too—Helen and I,” +Ruth said, sighing. “We are so far away from +the front.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” he exclaimed. “I should think +you would be glad.” +</p> +<p> +“But some women must go,” Ruth told him +gravely. “Why not us?” +</p> +<p> +“You—— Well, I don’t know about you, +Ruth. You seem somehow different. I expect +you could look out for yourself anywhere. But +Helen hasn’t got your sense.” +</p> +<p> +“Hear him!” gasped Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“It’s true,” he declared doggedly. “She hasn’t. +Father and I have talked it over. Nell is crazy +to go—and I tell father he would be crazy to let +her. But it may be that he will go to London and +Paris himself, for there is some work he can do +for the Government. Of course, Helen would +insist upon accompanying him in that event.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Tom!” exclaimed Ruth again. +</p> +<p> +“Why, they’d take you along, of course, if you +wanted to go,” said Tom. +</p> +<p> +“But I don’t wish to go in any such way,” the +girl of the Red Mill declared. “I want to go for +just one purpose—<em>to help</em>. And it must be something +worth while. There will be enough dilettante +assistants in every branch of the work. My +position must mean something to the cause, as +well as to me, or I will stay right here in +Cheslow.” +</p> +<p> +He looked at her with the old admiration dawning +in his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! The same old Ruthie, aren’t you?” he +murmured. “The same independent, ambitious +girl, whose work must <em>count</em>. Well, I fancy your +chance will come. We all seem to be on our way. +I wonder to what end?” +</p> +<p> +There was no sentimental outcome of their +talk. After all they were only over the line between +boy-and-girlhood and the grown-up state. +Tom was too much of a man to wish to anchor a +girl to him by any ties when the future was so +uncertain. And nothing had really ever happened +to them to stir those deeper passions which +must rise to the surface when two people talk of +love. +</p> +<p> +They were merely the best of friends. They +had no other ties of a warmer nature than those +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +which bound them in friendship to each other. +They felt confidence in each other if the future +was propitious; but now—— +</p> +<p> +“I am sure you will make your mark in the +army, Tom, dear,” Ruth said to him. “And I +shall think of you—wherever you are and wherever +I am—always!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—THE NEAREST DUTY</h2> +<p> +The county drive for Red Cross funds had +been a great success; and many people declared +that Ruth’s work had been that which had told +the most in the effort. Uncle Jabez inspired many +of the more parsimonious of the county to follow +his lead in giving to the cause. And, of course, +“The Boys of the Draft” was making money for +the Red Cross all over the country, as well as in +and about Cheslow. +</p> +<p> +After Tom Cameron went back to camp Ruth’s +longing for real service in the war work fairly +obsessed her mind. She could, of course, offer +herself to do some unimportant work in France, +paying her own transportation and expenses, and +become one of that small army of women who +first went over, many of whom were more ornamental, +if the truth were told, than useful in the +grim work that was to follow. +</p> +<p> +But the girl of the Red Mill, as she told Tom +Cameron, wished to make whatever she did count. +Yet she was spurred by no inordinate desire for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +praise or adulation. Merely she wanted to feel +that she actually was doing her all for Uncle Sam. +</p> +<p> +Being untrained in nursing it could not be hospital +work—not of the usual kind. Ruth wanted +something that her capabilities fitted. Something +she could do and do well. Something that was of +a responsible nature and would count in the long +run for the cause of humanity. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile she did not refuse the small duties +that fell to her lot. She was always ready to +“jump in” and do her share in any event. Helen +often said that her chum’s doctrinal belief was +summed up in the quotation from the Sunday school +hymn: “You in your small corner, and I +in mine!” +</p> +<p> +One day at the Cheslow chapter it was said +that there was need of somebody who could help +out in the supply department of the State Headquarters +in Robinsburg. A woman or girl was +desired who would not have to be paid a salary, +and preferably one who could pay her own living +expenses. +</p> +<p> +“That’s me!” exclaimed Ruth to Helen. “I +certainly can fill that bill.” +</p> +<p> +“But it really amounts to nothing, dear,” her +chum said doubtfully. “It seems a pity to waste +your brain and perfectly splendid ideas for organization +and the like in such a position.” +</p> +<p> +“Fiddle-de-dee!” ejaculated Ruth, quoting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +Uncle Jabez. “Nobody has yet appreciated my +‘perfectly splendid ideas of organization,’” and +she repeated the phrase with some scorn, “so I +would better put forward some of my more simple +talents. I have a good head for figures, I can letter +packages, I can even stick stamps on letters +and do other office work. My capabilities will +not be strained. And, then,” she added, “I feel +that in State Headquarters I may be in a better +position to ‘grab off’ something really worth +while.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Johannah on the spot,’ as it were?” said +Helen. “But you’ll have to go down there to +live, Ruthie.” +</p> +<p> +“The Y. W. C. A. will take me in, I am sure,” +declared her friend. “I am not afraid of being +alone in a great city—at my age and with my +experience!” +</p> +<p> +She telephoned to Robinsburg and was told to +come on. Naturally, by this time, the heads of +the State Red Cross, at least, knew who Ruth +Fielding was. +</p> +<p> +But every girl who had raised a large sum of +money for the cause was not suited to such work +as was waiting for her at headquarters. She +knew that she must prove her fitness. +</p> +<p> +Helen took her over in the car the next morning +and was inclined to be tearful when they separated. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +</p> +<p> +“Just does seem as though I couldn’t get on +without you, Ruthie!” she cried. +</p> +<p> +“Why, you are worse than poor Aunt Alvirah! +Every time I go away from home she acts as +though I might never come back again. And as +for you, Helen Cameron, you have plenty to do. +You have my share of Red Cross work in Cheslow +to do as well as your own. Don’t forget +that.” +</p> +<p> +Headquarters was a busy place. The very +things Ruth told Helen she could do, she did do—and +a multitude besides. Everything was systematized, +and the work went on in a businesslike +manner. Everybody was working hard and +unselfishly. +</p> +<p> +At least, so Ruth at first thought. Then, before +she had been there two days, she chanced +into another department upon an errand and +came face to face with Mrs. Rose Mantel, the +woman in black. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! How d’do!” said the woman with her +set smile. “I heard you were coming here to help +us, Miss Fielding. Hope you’ll like it.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope so,” Ruth returned gravely. +</p> +<p> +She had very little to say to the woman in black, +although the latter, as the days passed, seemed +desirous of ingratiating herself into the college +girl’s good opinion. But that Mrs. Mantel could +not do. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +</p> +<p> +It seemed that Mrs. Mantel was an expert +bookkeeper and accountant. She confided to Ruth +that, before she had married and “dear Herny” +had died, she had been engaged in the offices of +one of the largest cotton brokerage houses in New +Orleans. She still had a little money left from +“poor Herny’s” insurance, and she could live on +that while she was “doing her bit” for the Red +Cross. +</p> +<p> +Ruth made no comment. Of a sudden Mrs. +Mantel seemed to have grown patriotic. No +more did she repeat slanders of the Red Cross, +but was working for that organization. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding would not forbid a person “seeing +the light” and becoming converted to the +worthiness of the cause; but somehow she could +not take Mrs. Mantel and her work at their face +value. +</p> +<p> +Gradually, as the weeks fled, Ruth became acquainted +with others of the busy workers; with +Mr. Charles Mayo, who governed this headquarters +and seldom spoke of anything save the work—so +she did not know whether he had a family, +or social life, or anything else but just Red Cross. +</p> +<p> +There was a Mr. Legrand, whom she did not +like so well. He seemed to be a Frenchman, although +he spoke perfect English. He was a dark +man with steady, keen eyes behind thick lenses, +and, unusual enough in this day, he wore a heavy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +beard. His voice was a bark, but it did not seem +that he meant to be unpleasant. +</p> +<p> +Legrand and a man named José, who could be +nothing but a Mexican, often were with the +woman in black—both in the offices and out of +them. Ruth took her meals at a restaurant near +by, although she roomed in the Y. W. C. A. building, +as she said she should. In that restaurant she +often saw the woman in black dining with her two +cavaliers, as Ruth secretly termed Legrand and +José. +</p> +<p> +It was a trio that the girl of the Red Mill found +herself interested in, but with whom she wished +to have nothing to do. +</p> +<p> +All sorts and conditions of people, however, +were turning to Red Cross work. “Why,” Ruth +asked herself, “criticize the intentions of any of +them?” She felt sometimes as though her condemnation +of Mrs. Mantel, even though secret, +was really wicked. +</p> +<p> +But in the bookkeeping and accounting department—handling +the funds that came in, as +well as the expense accounts—a dishonest person +might do much harm to the cause. And Ruth +knew in her heart that Mrs. Mantel was not an +honest woman. +</p> +<p> +Her tale that day at the Ladies’ Aid Society, +in Cheslow, had been false—strictly false. The +woman knew it at the time, and she knew it now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +Ruth was sure that every time Mrs. Mantel +looked at her with her set smile she was thinking +that Ruth had caught her in a prevarication and +had not forgotten it. +</p> +<p> +Yet the girl of the Red Mill felt that she could +say nothing about Mrs. Mantel to Mr. Mayo, or +to anybody else in authority. She had no proved +facts. +</p> +<p> +Besides, she had never been so busy before in +all her life, and Ruth Fielding was no sluggard. +It seemed as though every moment of her waking +hours was filled and running over with duties. +</p> +<p> +She often worked long into the evening in her +department at the Red Cross bureau. She might +have missed the folks at home and her girl +friends more had it not been for the work that +crowded upon her. +</p> +<p> +One evening, as she came down from the loft +above the business office where she had been +working alone, she remarked that there was a +light in the office. Mrs. Mantel and her assistants +did not usually work at night. +</p> +<p> +The door stood ajar. Ruth looked in with +frank curiosity. She saw Mr. José, the black-looking +Mexican, alone in the room. He had +taken both of the chemical fire extinguishers from +the wall—one had hung at one end of the room +and the other at the other end—and was doing +something to them. Repairing them, perhaps, or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +merely cleaning them. He sat there cheerfully +whistling in a low tone and manipulating a polishing +rag, or something of the kind. He had a +bucket beside him. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if he can’t sleep nights, and that is +why he is so busily engaged?” thought Ruth, as +she went on out of the building. “I never knew +of his being so workative before.” +</p> +<p> +But the matter made no real impression on her +mind. It was a transitory thought entirely. She +went to her clean little cell in the Y. W. C. A. +home and forgot all about Mr. José and the fire +extinguishers. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—TOM SAILS, AND SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS</h2> +<p> +“You can see your son, Second Lieutenant +Thomas Cameron, before he sails for France, if +you will be at the Polk Hotel, at eight o’clock +to-morrow p. m.” +</p> +<p> +There have been other telegrams sent and received +of more moment than the above, perhaps; +but none that could have created a more profound +impression in the Cameron household. +</p> +<p> +There have been not a few similar messages +put on the telegraph wires and received by anxious +parents during these months since America +has really got into the World War. +</p> +<p> +There is every necessity for secrecy in the sailing +of the transports for France. The young +officers themselves have sometimes told more to +their relatives than they should before the hour +of sailing. So the War Department takes every +precaution to safeguard the crossing of our boys +who go to fight the Huns. +</p> +<p> +With Mr. Cameron holding an important government position +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +and being ready himself to go +across before many weeks, it was only natural +that he should have this information sent him that +he might say good-bye to Tom. The latter had +already been a fortnight with “his boys” in the +training camp and was fixed in his assignment to +his division of the expeditionary forces. +</p> +<p> +Ruth chanced to be at the Outlook, as the +Cameron home was called, for over Sunday when +this telegram was received. Both she and Helen +were vastly excited. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m going with you! I must see Tommy +once more,” cried the twin with an outburst of +sobs and tears that made her father very unhappy. +</p> +<p> +“My dear! You cannot,” Mr. Cameron tried +to explain. +</p> +<p> +“I can! I must!” the girl cried. “I know I’ll +never see Tommy again. He—he’s going over +there to—to be shot——” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t, dear!” begged Ruth, taking her chum +into her arms. “You must not talk that way. +This is war——” +</p> +<p> +“And is war altogether a man’s game? Aren’t +we to have anything to say about it, or what the +Government shall do with our brothers?” +</p> +<p> +“It is no game,” sighed Ruth Fielding. “It is +a very different thing. And our part in it is to +give, and give generously. Our loved ones if we +must.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t want to give Tom!” Helen declared. +“I can never be patriotic enough to give him to +the country. And that’s all there is to it!” +</p> +<p> +“Be a good girl, Helen, and brace up,” advised +her father, but quite appreciating the girl’s feelings. +There had always been a bond between +the Cameron twins stronger than that between +most brothers and sisters. +</p> +<p> +“I know I shall never see him again,” wailed +the girl. +</p> +<p> +“I hope he’ll not hear that you said that, dear,” +said the girl of the Red Mill, shaking her head. +“We must send him away with cheerfulness. You +tell him from me, Mr. Cameron, that I send my +love and I hope he will come back a major at +least.” +</p> +<p> +“He’ll be killed!” Helen continued to wail. “I +know he will!” +</p> +<p> +But that did not help things a mite. Mr. +Cameron went off late that night and reached the +rendezvous called for in the telegram. It was +in a port from which several transports were +sailing within a few hours, and he came back with +a better idea of what it meant for thousands of +men under arms to get away on a voyage across +the seas. +</p> +<p> +Tom was busy with his men; but he had time +to take supper with his father at the hotel and +then got permission for Mr. Cameron to go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +aboard the ship with him and see how comfortable +the War Department had made things for +the expeditionary force. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Cameron stopped at Robinsburg on his +return to tell Ruth about it, for she had returned +to Headquarters, of course, on Monday, and was +working quite as hard as before. He brought, +too, a letter for Ruth from Tom, and just what +their soldier-boy said in that missive the girl of +the Red Mill never told. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was left, when her friends’ father went +on to Cheslow, with a great feeling of emptiness +in her life. It was not alone because of Tom’s +departure for France; Mr. Cameron and Helen, +too, would soon go across the sea. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Cameron had repeated Helen’s offer—that +Ruth should accompany them. But the girl, +though grateful, refused. She did not for a moment +belittle his efforts for the Government, or +Helen’s interest in the war. +</p> +<p> +But Mr. Cameron was a member of a commission +that was to investigate certain matters +and come back to make report. He would not be +over there long. +</p> +<p> +As for Helen, Ruth was quite sure she would +join some association of wealthy women and girls +in Paris, as Jennie Stone had, and consider that +she was “doing her bit.” Ruth wanted something +more real than that. She was in earnest. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +did not wish to be carefully sheltered from all +hard work and even from the dangers “over +there.” She desired a real part in what was going +forward. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, while waiting her chance, she did +not allow herself to become gloomy or morose. +That was not Ruth Fielding’s way. +</p> +<p> +“I always know where to come when I wish to +see a cheerful face,” Mr. Mayo declared, putting +his head in at her door one day. “You always +have a smile on tap. How do you do it?” +</p> +<p> +“I practice before my glass every morning,” +Ruth declared, laughing. “But sometimes, during +the day, I’m afraid my expression slips. I +can’t always remember to smile when I am counting +and packing these sweaters, and caps, and +all, for the poor boys who, some of them, are +going to stand up and be shot, or gassed, or +blinded by liquid fire.” +</p> +<p> +“It is hard,” sighed the chief, wagging his +head. “If it wasn’t knowing that we are doing +just a little good——But not as much as I could +wish! Collections seem very small. Our report +is not going to be all I could wish this month.” +</p> +<p> +He went away, leaving Ruth with a thought +that did not make it any easier for her to smile. +She saw people all day long coming into the +building and seeking out the cashier’s desk, where +Mrs. Mantel sat, to hand over contributions of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +money to the Red Cross. If only each brought a +dollar there should be a large sum added to the +local treasury each day. +</p> +<p> +There was no way of checking up these payments. +The money passed through the hands of +the lady in black and only by her accounts on +the day ledger and a system of card index taken +from that ledger by Mr. Legrand, who worked as +her assistant, could the record be found of the +moneys contributed to the Red Cross at this +station. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was not naturally of a suspicious +disposition; but the honesty of Mrs. Mantel +and the real interest of that woman in the cause +were still keenly questioned in Ruth’s mind. +</p> +<p> +She wondered if Mr. Mayo knew who the +woman really was. Was her story of widowhood, +and of her former business experience in +New Orleans strictly according to facts? What +might be learned about the woman in black if +inquiry was made in that Southern city? +</p> +<p> +Yet at times Ruth would have felt condemned +for her suspicions had it not been for the daily +sight of Mrs. Mantel’s hard smile and her black, +glittering eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Snakes’ eyes,” thought the girl of the Red +Mill. “Quite as bright and quite as malevolent. +Mrs. Mantel certainly does not love me, despite +her soft words and sweet smile.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +</p> +<p> +There was some stir in the headquarters at last +regarding a large draft of Red Cross workers to +make up another expeditionary force to France. +Two full hospital units were going and a base +supply unit as well. Altogether several hundred +men and women would sail in a month’s time for +the other side. +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s heart beat quicker at the thought. Was +there a prospect for her to go over in some capacity +with this quota? +</p> +<p> +Most of the candidates for all departments of +the expeditionary force were trained in the work +they were to do. It was ridiculous to hope for +an appointment in the hospital force. No nurse +among them all had served less than two years +in a hospital, and many of them had served three +and four. +</p> +<p> +She asked Mr. Mayo what billets there were +open in the supply unit; but the chief did not +know. The State had supplied few workers as +yet who had been sent abroad; Robinsburg, up +to this time, none at all. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Miss Fielding, you must not think of +going over there!” he cried. “We need you here. +If all our dependable women go to France, how +shall we manage here?” +</p> +<p> +“You would manage very well,” Ruth told +him. “This should be a training school for the +work over there. I know that I can give any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +intelligent girl such an idea of my work in three +weeks that you would never miss me.” +</p> +<p> +“Impossible, Miss Fielding!” +</p> +<p> +“Quite possible, I assure you. I want to go. +I feel I can do more over there than I can here. +A thousand girls who can’t go could be found to +do what I do here. Approve my application, +will you please, Mr. Mayo?” +</p> +<p> +He did this after some hesitation. “Am I +going to lose everybody at once?” he grumbled. +</p> +<p> +“Why, only poor little me,” laughed Ruth +Fielding. +</p> +<p> +“Yours is the seventh application I have +O.K.’d. And several others may ask yet. The +fire is spreading.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Who?” +</p> +<p> +“We are going to lose Mrs. Mantel for one. +I understand that the Red Cross wants her for a +much more important work in France.” +</p> +<p> +For a little while Ruth doubted after all if she +so much desired to go to France. The fact that +Mrs. Mantel was going came as a shock to her +mind and made her hesitate. Suppose she should +meet the woman in black over there? Suppose +her work should be connected with that of the +woman whom she so much suspected and disliked? +</p> +<p> +Then her better sense and her patriotism came +to the force. What had she to do with Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +Mantel, after all? She was not the woman’s +keeper. Nor could it be possible that Mrs. Mantel +would disturb herself much over Ruth Fielding, +no matter where they might meet. +</p> +<p> +Was Ruth Fielding willing to work for the Red +Cross only in ways that would be wholly pleasant +and with people of whom she could entirely approve? +The girl asked herself this seriously. +</p> +<p> +She put the thought behind her with distaste +at her own narrowness of vision. Born of Yankee +stock, she was naturally conservative to the +very marrow of her bones. This New England +attitude is not altogether a curse; but it sometimes +leads one out of broad paths. +</p> +<p> +Surely the work was broad enough for both +her and the woman in black to do what they +might without conflict. “I’ll do my part; what +has Mrs. Mantel to do with me?” she determined. +</p> +<p> +Before Ruth had a chance to tell her chum of +the application she had put in, Helen wrote her +hurriedly that Mr. Cameron’s commission was to +sail in two days from Boston. Ruth could not +leave her work, but she wrote a long letter to her +dearest chum and sent it by special delivery to +the Boston hotel, where she knew the Camerons +would stop for a night. +</p> +<p> +It really seemed terrible, that her chum and her +father should go without Ruth seeing them again; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +but she did not wish to leave her work while her +application for an assignment to France was pending. +It might mean that she would lose her chance +altogether. +</p> +<p> +She only told Helen in the letter that she, too, +hoped to be “over there” some day soon. +</p> +<p> +But several days slipped by and her case was not +mentioned by Mr. Mayo. It seemed pretty hard +to Ruth. She was ready and able to go and nobody +wanted her! +</p> +<p> +The weather chanced to be unpleasant, too, and +that is often closely linked up to one’s very deepest +feelings. Ruth’s philosophy could not overcome +the effect of a foggy, dripping day. Her +usual cheerfulness dropped several degrees. +</p> +<p> +It drew on toward evening, and the patter of +raindrops on the panes grew louder. The glistening +umbrellas in the street, as she looked down +upon them from the window, looked like many, +many black mushrooms. Ruth knew she would +have a dreary evening. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly she heard a door bang on the floor +below—a shout and then a crash of glass. +Next—— +</p> +<p> +“Fire! Fire! Fire!” +</p> +<p> +In an instant she was out of her room and at +the head of the stairs. It was an old building—a +regular firetrap. Mr. Mayo had dashed out of +his office and was shouting up the stairs: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +</p> +<p> +“Come down! Down, every one of you! +Fire!” +</p> +<p> +Through the open transom over the door of +Mrs. Mantel’s office Ruth saw that one end of the +room was ablaze. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—SUSPICIONS</h2> +<p> +There was a patter of feet overhead and racing +down the stairway came half a dozen frightened +people. They had been aroused by Mr. +Mayo’s shout, and they knew that if the flames +reached the stairway first they would be driven to +the fire escape. +</p> +<p> +There seemed little danger of the fire reaching +the stairs, however; for when Ruth got to the +lower hall the door of the burning office had been +opened again, and she saw one of the porters +squirting the chemical fire extinguisher upon the +blaze. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Legrand had flung open the door, and he +was greatly excited. He held his left hand in his +right, as though it were hurt. +</p> +<p> +“Where is Mrs. Mantel?” demanded Mr. +Mayo. +</p> +<p> +“Gone!” gasped Legrand. “Lucky she did. +That oil spread all over her desk and papers. It’s +all afire.” +</p> +<p> +“I was opening a gallon of lubricating oil. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +broke and spurted everywhere. I cut myself—see?” +</p> +<p> +He showed his hand. Ruth saw that blood +seemed to be running from the cut freely. But +she was more interested in the efforts of the porter. +His extinguisher seemed to be doing very +little good. +</p> +<p> +Ruth heard Mr. Mayo trying to discover the +cause of the fire; but Mr. Legrand seemed unable +to tell that. He ran out to a drugstore to have +his hand attended to. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Mayo seized the second extinguisher from +the wall. The porter flung his down, at the same +time yelling: +</p> +<p> +“No good! No good, I tell you, Mr. Mayo! +Everything’s got to go. Those extinguishers must +be all wrong. The chemicals have evaporated, +or something.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Mayo tried the one he had seized with no +better result. While this was going on Ruth +Fielding suddenly remembered something—remembered +it with a shock. She had seen the man, +José, tampering with those same extinguishers +some days before. +</p> +<p> +While a certain spray was puffed forth from +the nozzle of the extinguisher, it seemed to have +no effect on the flames which were, as the porter +declared, spreading rapidly. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Mantel’s big desk and the file cabinet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +were all afire. Nothing could save the papers +and books. +</p> +<p> +An alarm had been turned in by somebody, and +now the first of the fire department arrived. +These men brought in extinguishers that had an +effect upon the flames at once. The fire was quite +quenched in five minutes more. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had retreated to Mr. Mayo’s office. She +heard one of the fire chiefs talking to the gentleman +at the doorway. +</p> +<p> +“What caused that blaze anyway?” the fireman +demanded. +</p> +<p> +“I understand some oil was spilled.” +</p> +<p> +“What kind of oil?” snapped the other. +</p> +<p> +“Lubricating oil.” +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense! It acted more like benzine or +naphtha to me. But you haven’t told me how it +got lit up?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. The porter says he first saw +flames rising from the waste basket between the +big desk and the file cabinet,” Mr. Mayo said. +“Then the fire spread both ways.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! The insurance adjusters will be after +you. I’ve got to report my belief. Looks as +though somebody had been mighty careless with +some inflammable substance. What were you +using oil at all for here?” +</p> +<p> +“I—I could not tell you,” Mr. Mayo said. “I +will ask Mr. Legrand when he comes back.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +</p> +<p> +But Ruth learned in the morning that Legrand +had not returned. Nobody seemed to know +where he lived. Mrs. Mantel said he had moved +recently, but she did not know where to. +</p> +<p> +The insurance adjusters did make a pertinent +inquiry about the origin of the fire. But nobody +had been in the office with Legrand when it started +save the porter, and he had already told all he had +seen. There was no reason for charging anybody +else with carelessness but the missing man. +</p> +<p> +Save in one particular. Mrs. Mantel seemed +horror-stricken when she saw the charred remains +of her desk and the file cabinet. The files of cards +were completely destroyed. The cards were +merely brown husks—those that were not ashes. +The records of contributions for six months past +were completely burned. +</p> +<p> +“But you, fortunately, have the ledgers in the +safe, have you not, Mrs. Mantel?” the Chief said. +</p> +<p> +The woman in black broke down and wept. +“How careless you will think me, Mr. Mayo,” +she cried. “I left the two ledgers on my desk. +Legrand said he wished to compare certain figures——” +</p> +<p> +“The ledgers are destroyed, too?” gasped the +man. +</p> +<p> +“There are their charred remains,” declared +the woman, pointing dramatically to the burned +debris where her desk had stood. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +</p> +<p> +There was not a line to show how much had +been given to the Red Cross at this station, or who +had given it! When Mr. Mayo opened the safe +he found less than two thousand dollars in cash +and checks and noted upon the bank deposit book; +and the month was almost ended. Payment was +made to Headquarters of all collections every +thirty days. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Mantel seemed heartbroken. Legrand +did not appear again at the Red Cross rooms. +But the woman in black declared that the funds as +shown in the safe must be altogether right, for she +had locked the safe herself and remembered that +the funds were not more than the amount found. +</p> +<p> +“But we have had some large contributions during +the month, Mrs. Mantel,” Mr. Mayo said +weakly. +</p> +<p> +“Not to my knowledge, Mr. Mayo,” the +woman declared, her eyes flashing. “Our contributions +for some weeks have been scanty. People +are getting tired of giving to the Red Cross, I +fear.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth heard something of this discussion, but +not all. She did not know what to think about +Mrs. Mantel and Legrand. And then, there was +José, the man whom she had seen tampering with +the fire extinguishers! +</p> +<p> +Should she tell Mr. Mayo of her suspicions? +Or should she go to the office of the fire insurance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +adjustors? Or should she keep completely out +of the matter? +</p> +<p> +Had Mr. Mayo been a more forceful man +Ruth might have given him her confidence. But +she feared that, although he was a hard-working +official and loyal to the core, he did not possess +the quality of wisdom necessary to enable him to +handle the situation successfully. +</p> +<p> +Besides, just at this time, she heard from New +York. Her application had been investigated and +she was informed that she would be accepted for +work with the base supply unit about to sail for +France, with the proviso, of course, that she +passed the medical examination and would pay her +share of the unit’s expenses and for her own support. +</p> +<p> +She had to tell Mr. Mayo, bid good-bye to her +fellow workers, and leave Robinsburg within two +hours. She had only three days to make ready +before going to New York, and she wished to +spend all of that time at the Red Mill. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>Chapter XI—SAID IN GERMAN</h2> +<p> +Ruth Fielding had made preparations for +travel many times before; but this venture she was +about to undertake was different from her previous +flights from the Red Mill. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my pretty! Oh, my pretty!” sighed Aunt +Alvirah Boggs. “It seems as though this life is +just made up of partings. You ain’t no more to +home than you’re off again. And how do I know +I shall ever set my two eyes on you once more, +Ruthie?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve always come back so far, Aunt Alvirah—like +the bad penny that I am,” Ruth told her +cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!” groaned +Aunt Alvirah, sinking into her chair by the sunny +window. “No bad penny in your case, my pretty. +Your returns air always like that of the bluebird’s +in the spring—and jest as much for happiness as +they say the bluebird is. What would your Uncle +Jabez and me do without you?” +</p> +<p> +“But it will be only for a few months. I might +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +remain away as long if I returned to Ardmore for +my junior year.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, but that’s not like going away over to +France where there is so much danger and +trouble,” the little old woman objected. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t worry about me, dear,” urged Ruth, +with great gentleness. +</p> +<p> +“We don’t know what may happen,” continued +Aunt Alvirah. “A single month at my time o’ life +is longer’n a year at your age, my pretty.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I am sure to come back,” Ruth cried. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll hope so. I shall pray for you, my +pretty. But there’ll be fear eatin’ at our hearts +every day that you are so far from us.” +</p> +<p> +Uncle Jabez likewise expressed himself as loath +to have her go; yet his extreme patriotism inspired +him to wish her Godspeed cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“I vum! I’d like to be goin’ with you. Only +with Old Betsey on my shoulder!” declared the +miller. “You don’t want to take the old gun with +you, do you, Niece Ruth?” he added, with twinkling +eyes. “I’ve had her fixed. And she ought +to be able to shoot a Hun or two yet.” +</p> +<p> +“I am not going to shoot Germans,” said Ruth, +shaking her head. “I only hope to do what I can +in saving our boys after the battles. I can’t even +nurse them—poor dears! My all that I do seems +so little.” +</p> +<p> +“Ha!” grunted Uncle Jabez. “I reckon you’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +do full and plenty. If you don’t it’ll be the first +time in your life that you fall down on a job.” +</p> +<p> +Which was remarkably warm commendation +for the miller to give, and Ruth appreciated it +deeply. +</p> +<p> +He drove her to town himself and put her on +the train for New York. “Don’t you git into no +more danger over there than you kin help, Niece +Ruth,” he urged. “Good-bye!” +</p> +<p> +She traveled alone to the metropolis, and that +without hearing from or seeing any of her fellow-workers +at the Red Cross rooms in Robinsburg. +She did wonder much, however, what the outcome +of the fire had been. +</p> +<p> +What had become of Mrs. Rose Mantel, the +woman in black? Had she been finally suspected +by Mr. Mayo, and would she be refused further +work with the organization because of the outcome +of the fire? Ruth could not but believe that +the conflagration had been caused to cover shortages +in the Red Cross accounts. +</p> +<p> +At the Grand Central Terminal Ruth was met +by a very lovely lady, a worker in the Red Cross, +who took her home to her Madison Avenue residence, +where Ruth was to remain for the few days +she was to be in the city. +</p> +<p> +“It is all I can do,” said the woman smiling, +when Ruth expressed her wonder that she should +have turned her beautiful home into a clearing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +house for Red Cross workers. “It is all I can +do. I am quite alone now, and it cheers me and +gives me new topics of interest to see and care for +the splendid girls who are really going over there +to help our soldiers.” +</p> +<p> +Later Ruth Fielding learned that this woman’s +two sons were both in France—one in a medical +corps and the other in the trenches. She had already +given her all, it seemed; but she could not +do too much for the country. +</p> +<p> +The several girls the lady entertained at this +time had little opportunity for amusement. The +Red Cross ship was to sail within forty-eight +hours. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was able to meet many of the members +of her supply unit, and found them a most interesting +group. They had come from many parts +of the country and had brought with them varied +ideas about the work and of what they were “going +up against.” +</p> +<p> +All, however, seemed to be deeply interested +in the Red Cross and the burden the war had laid +upon them. They were not going to France to +play, but to serve in any way possible. +</p> +<p> +There was a single disturbing element in the +bustling hurry of getting under way. At this late +moment the woman who had been chosen as chief +of the supply unit was deterred from sailing. Serious +illness in her family forced her to resign her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +position and remain to nurse those at home. It +was quite a blow to the unit and to the Commissioner +himself. +</p> +<p> +The question, Who will take her place? became +the most important thought in the minds of the +members of the unit. Ruth fully understood that +to find a person as capable as the woman already +selected would not be an easy matter. +</p> +<p> +Until the hour the party left New York for +Philadelphia, the port of sail for the Red Cross +ship, no candidate had been settled on by the Commissioner +to head the supply unit. +</p> +<p> +“We shall find somebody. I have one person +in mind right now who may be the very one. If +so, this person will be shipped by a faster vessel +and by another convoy than yours,” and he +laughed. “You may find your chief in Paris when +you get there.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth wondered to herself if they really would +get there. At this time the German submarines +were sinking even the steamships taking Red +Cross workers and supplies across. The Huns +had thrown over their last vestige of humanity. +</p> +<p> +The ship which carried the Red Cross units +joined a squadron of other supply ships outside +Cape May. The guard ships were a number of +busy and fast sailing torpedo boat destroyers. +They darted around the slower flotilla of merchant +steamships like “lucky-bugs” on a millpond. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +</p> +<p> +Ruth shared her outside cabin with a girl from +Topeka, Kansas—an exceedingly blithe and boisterous +young person. +</p> +<p> +“I never imagined there was so much water in +the ocean!” declared this young woman, Clare +Biggars. “Look at it! Such a perfectly awful +waste of it. If the ocean is just a means of communication +between countries, it needn’t be any +wider than the Missouri River, need it?” +</p> +<p> +“I am glad the Atlantic is a good deal wider +than that,” Ruth said seriously. “The Kaiser and +his armies would have been over in our country +before this in that case.” +</p> +<p> +Clare chuckled. “Lots of the farming people +in my section are Germans, and three months ago +they noised it abroad that New York had been +attacked by submarines and flying machines and +that a big army of their fellow-countrymen were +landing in this country at a place called Montauk +Point——” +</p> +<p> +“The end of Long Island,” interposed Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“And were going to march inland and conquer +the country as they marched. They would do to +New York State just what they have done to Belgium +and Northern France. It was thought, by +their talk, that all the Germans around Topeka +would rise and seize the banks and arsenals and +all.” +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t they?” asked Ruth, much amused. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why,” said Clare, laughing, too, “the police +wouldn’t let them.” +</p> +<p> +The German peril by sea, however, was not to +be sneered at. As the fleet approached the +coast of France it became evident that the officers +of the Red Cross ship, as well as those of the convoy, +were in much anxiety. +</p> +<p> +There seems no better way to safeguard the +merchant ships than for the destroyers to sail +ahead and “clear the way” for the unarmored +vessels. But a sharp submarine commander may +spy the coming flotilla through his periscope, sink +deep to allow the destroyers to pass over him, and +then rise to the surface between the destroyers +and the larger ships and torpedo the latter before +the naval vessels can attack the subsea boat. +</p> +<p> +For forty-eight hours none of the girls of the +Red Cross supply unit had their clothing off or +went to bed. They were advised to buckle on life +preservers, and most of them remained on deck, +watching for submarines. It was scarcely possible +to get them below for meals. +</p> +<p> +The strain of the situation was great. And yet +it was more excitement over the possibility of being +attacked than actual fear. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the use of going across the pond at +such a time if we’re not even to see a periscope?” +demanded Clare. “My brother, Ben, who is coming +over with the first expedition of the National +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +Army, wagered me ten dollars I wouldn’t know +a periscope if I saw one. I’d like to earn that +ten. Every little bit adds to what you’ve got, you +know.” +</p> +<p> +It was not the sight of a submarine periscope +that startled Ruth Fielding the evening of the +next-to-the-last day of the voyage. It was something +she heard as she leaned upon the port rail +on the main deck, quite alone, looking off across +the graying water. +</p> +<p> +Two people were behind her, and out of sight +around the corner of the deckhouse. One was a +man, with a voice that had a compelling bark. +Whether his companion was a man or a woman +Ruth could not tell. But the voice she heard so +distinctly began to rasp her nerves—and its familiarity +troubled her, too. +</p> +<p> +Now and then she heard a word in English. +Then, of a sudden, the man ejaculated in German: +</p> +<p> +“The foolish ones! As though this boat would +be torpedoed with us aboard! These Americans +are crazy.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth wheeled and walked quickly down the +deck to the corner of the house. She saw the +speaker sitting in a deck chair beside another person +who was so wrapped in deck rugs that she could +not distinguish what he or she looked +like. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +</p> +<p> +But the silhouette of the man who had uttered +those last words stood out plainly between Ruth +and the fading light. He was tall, with heavy +shoulders, and a fat, beefy face. That smoothly +shaven countenance looked like nobody that she +had ever seen before; but the barking voice +sounded exactly like that of Legrand, Mrs. Rose +Mantel’s associate and particular friend! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—THROUGH DANGEROUS WATERS</h2> +<p> +There were a number of people aboard ship +whom Ruth Fielding had not met, of course; some +whom she had not even seen. And this was not +to be wondered at, for the feminine members of +the supply unit were grouped together in a certain +series of staterooms; and they even had their +meals in a second cabin saloon away from the +hospital units. +</p> +<p> +She looked, for some moments, at the huge +shoulders of the man who had spoken in German, +hoping he would turn to face her. She had not +observed him since coming aboard the ship at +Philadelphia. +</p> +<p> +It seemed scarcely possible that this could be +Legrand, the man who she had come to believe +was actually responsible for the fire in the Robinsburg +Red Cross rooms. If he was a traitor to +the organization—and to the United States as +well—how dared he sail on this ship for France, +and with an organization of people who were +sworn to work for the Red Cross? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +</p> +<p> +Was he sufficiently disguised by the shaving of +his beard to risk discovery? And with that peculiar, +sharp, barking voice! “A Prussian drill +master surely could be no more abrupt,” thought +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +As the ship in these dangerous waters sailed +with few lamps burning, and none at all had been +turned on upon the main deck, it was too dark +for Ruth to see clearly either the man who had +spoken or the person hidden by the wraps in the +deck chair. +</p> +<p> +She saw the spotlight in the hand of an officer +up the deck and she hastened toward him. The +passengers were warned not to use the little electric +hand lamps outside of the cabins and passages. +She was not mistaken in the identity of +this person with the lamp. It was the purser. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Savage!” she said. “Will you walk +with me?” +</p> +<p> +“Bless me, Miss Fielding! you fill me with delight. +This is an unexpected proposal I am sure,” +he declared in his heavy, English, but good-humored +way. +</p> +<p> +“‘Fash not yoursel’ wi’ pride,’ as Chief Engineer +Douglas would say,” laughed Ruth. “I am +going to ask you to walk with me so that you can +tell me the name of another man I am suddenly +interested in.” +</p> +<p> +“What! What!” cried the purser. “Who is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +that, I’d like to know. Who are you so suddenly +interested in?” +</p> +<p> +She tried to explain the appearance of the +round-shouldered man as she led the purser along +the deck. But when they reached the spot where +Ruth had left the individuals both had disappeared. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know whom you could have seen,” the +purser said, “unless it was Professor Perry. His +stateroom is yonder—A-thirty-four. And the little +chap in the deck chair might be Signor Aristo, +an Italian, who rooms next door, in thirty-six.” +</p> +<p> +“I am not sure it was a man in the other chair.” +</p> +<p> +“Professor Perry has nothing to do with the ladies +aboard, I assure you,” chuckled the purser. +“A dry-as-dust old fellow, Perry, going to France +for some kind of research work. Comes from one +of your Western universities. I believe they have +one in every large town, haven’t they?” +</p> +<p> +“One what?” Ruth asked. +</p> +<p> +“University,” chuckled the Englishman. “You +should get acquainted with Perry, if his appearance +so much interests you, Miss Fielding.” +</p> +<p> +But Ruth was in no mood for banter about the +man whose appearance and words had so astonished +her. She said nothing to the purser or to +anybody else about what she had heard the +strange man say in German. No person who belonged—really +<em>belonged</em>—on this Red Cross ship, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +should have said what he did and in that tone! +</p> +<p> +He spoke to his companion as though there was +a settled and secret understanding between them. +And as though, too, he had a power of divination +about what the German U-boat commanders +would do, beyond the knowledge possessed by the +officers of the steamship. +</p> +<p> +What could a “dry-as-dust” professor from a +Western university have in common with the person +known as Signor Aristo, who Ruth found was +down on the ship’s list as a chef of a wealthy Fifth +Avenue family, going back to his native Italy. +</p> +<p> +It was said the Signor had had a very bad +passage. He had kept to his room entirely, not +even appearing on deck. <em>Was he a man at all?</em> +</p> +<p> +The thought came to Ruth Fielding and would +not be put away, that this small, retiring person +known as Signor Aristo might be a woman. If +Professor Perry was the distinguished Legrand +what was more possible than that the person Ruth +had seen in the deck chair was Mrs. Rose Mantel, +likewise in disguise? +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me!” she told herself at last, “I am +getting to be a regular sleuth. But my suspicions +do point that way. If that woman in black and +Legrand robbed the Red Cross treasury at Robinsburg, +and covered their stealings by burning the +records, would they be likely to leave the country +in a Red Cross ship? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +</p> +<p> +“That would seem preposterous. And yet, +what more unlikely method of departure? It +might be that such a course on the part of two +criminals would be quite sure to cover their escape.” +</p> +<p> +She wondered about it much as the ship sailed +majestically into the French port, safe at last from +any peril of being torpedoed by the enemy. And +Professor Perry had been quite sure that she was +safe in any case! +</p> +<p> +Ruth saw the professor when they landed. The +Italian chef she did not see at all. Nor did Ruth +Fielding see anybody who looked like Mrs. Rose +Mantel. +</p> +<p> +“I may be quite wrong in all my suspicions,” +she thought. “I would better say nothing about +them. To cause the authorities to arrest entirely +innocent people would be a very wicked thing, indeed.” +</p> +<p> +Besides, there was so much to do and to see +that the girl of the Red Mill could not keep her +suspicions alive. This unknown world she and +her mates had come to quite filled their minds with +new thoughts and interests. +</p> +<p> +Their first few hours in France was an experience +long to be remembered. Ruth might have +been quite bewildered had it not been that her +mind was so set upon the novel sights and sounds +about her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +</p> +<p> +“I declare I don’t know whether I am a-foot or +a-horseback!” Clare Biggars said. “Let me hang +on to your coat-tail, Ruth. I know you are real +and United Statesy. But these funny French +folk—— +</p> +<p> +“My! they are like people out of a story book, +after all, aren’t they? I thought I’d seen most +every kind of folk at the San Francisco Fair; but +just nobody seems familiar looking here!” +</p> +<p> +Before they were off the quay, several French women, +who could not speak a word of English +save “’Ello!” welcomed the Red Cross workers +with joy. At this time Americans coming to help +France against her enemies were a new and very +wonderful thing. The first marching soldiers +from America were acclaimed along the streets +and country roads as heroes might have been. +</p> +<p> +An old woman in a close-fitting bonnet and +ragged shawl—not an over-clean person—took +Ruth’s hand in both hers and patted it, and said +something in her own tongue that brought the +tears to the girl’s eyes. It was such a blessing as +Aunt Alvirah had murmured over her when the +girl had left the Red Mill. +</p> +<p> +She and Clare, with several of the other feminine +members of the supply unit were quartered +in an old hotel almost on the quay for their first +night ashore. It was said that some troop trains +had the right-of-way; so the Red Cross workers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +could not go up to Paris for twenty-four hours. +</p> +<p> +Somebody made a mistake. It could not be expected +that everything would go smoothly. The +heads of the various Red Cross units were not +infallible. Besides, this supply unit to which Ruth +belonged really had no head as yet. The party +at the seaside hotel was forgotten. +</p> +<p> +Nobody came to the hotel to inform them when +the unit was to entrain. They were served very +well by the hotel attendants and several chatty +ladies, who could speak English, came to see them. +But Ruth and the other girls had not come to +France as tourists. +</p> +<p> +Finally, the girl of the Red Mill, with Clare +Biggars, sallied forth to find the remainder of +their unit. Fortunately, Ruth’s knowledge of the +language was not superficial. Madame Picolet, +her French teacher at Briarwood Hall, had been +most thorough in the drilling of her pupils; and +Madame was a Parisienne. +</p> +<p> +But when Ruth discovered that she and her +friends at the seaside hotel had been left behind +by the rest of the Red Cross contingent, she was +rather startled, and Clare was angered. +</p> +<p> +“What do they think we are?” demanded the +Western girl. “Of no account at all? Where’s +our transportation? What do they suppose we’ll +do, dumped down here in this fishing town? +What——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +</p> +<p> +“Whoa! Whoa!” Ruth laughed. “Don’t lose +your temper, my dear,” she advised soothingly. +“If nothing worse than this happens to us——” +</p> +<p> +She immediately interviewed several railroad +officials, arranged for transportation, got the passports +of all viséed, and, in the middle of the afternoon, +they were off by slow train to the French +capital. +</p> +<p> +“We can’t really get lost, girls,” Ruth declared. +“For we are Americans, and Americans, at present, +in France, are objects of considerable interest +to everybody. We’ll only be a day late getting to +the city on the Seine.” +</p> +<p> +When they finally arrived in Paris, Ruth knew +right where to go to reach the Red Cross supply +department headquarters. She had it all written +down in her notebook, and taxicabs brought the +party in safety to the entrance to the building in +question. +</p> +<p> +As the girls alighted from the taxis Clare seized +Ruth’s wrist, whispering: +</p> +<p> +“Why! there’s that Professor Perry again—the +one that came over with us on the steamer. +You remember?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth saw the man whose voice was like Legrand’s, +but whose facial appearance was nothing +at all like that suspected individual. But it was +his companion that particularly attracted the attention +of the girl of the Red Mill. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +</p> +<p> +This was a slight, dark man, who hobbled as he +walked. His right leg was bent and he wore a +shoe with a four-inch wooden sole. +</p> +<p> +“Who is that, I wonder?” Ruth murmured, +looking at the crippled man. +</p> +<p> +“That is Signor Aristo,” Clair said. “He’s +an Italian chef I am told.” +</p> +<p> +Signor Aristo was, likewise, smoothly shaven; +but Ruth remarked that he looked much like the +Mexican, José, who had worked with Legrand at +the Red Cross rooms in Robinsburg. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—THE NEW CHIEF</h2> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was troubled by her most recent +discovery. Yet she was in no mind to take +Clare into her confidence—or anybody else. +</p> +<p> +She was cautious. With nothing but suspicions +to report to the Red Cross authorities, what could +she really say? What, after all, do suspicions +amount to? +</p> +<p> +If the man calling himself Professor Perry +was really Legrand, and the Italian chef, Signor +Aristo the lame man, was he who had been known +as Mr. José at the Robinsburg Red Cross headquarters, +her identification of them must be corroborated. +How could she prove such assertions? +</p> +<p> +It was a serious situation; but one in which Ruth +felt that her hands were tied. She must wait for +something to turn up that would give her a sure +hold on these people whom she believed to be +out and out crooks. +</p> +<p> +Ruth accompanied the remainder of the “left +behind” party of workers into the building, and +they found the proper office in which to report +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +their arrival in Paris. The other members of the +supply unit met the delayed party with much hilarity; +the joke of their having been left behind +was not soon to be forgotten. +</p> +<p> +The hospital units, better organized, and with +their heads, or chiefs, already trained and on the +spot, went on toward the front that very day. But +Ruth’s battalion still lacked a leader. They were +scattered among different hotels and pensions in +the vicinity of the Red Cross offices, and spent several +days in comparative idleness. +</p> +<p> +It gave the girls an opportunity of going about +and seeing the French capital, which, even in wartime, +had a certain amount of gayety. Ruth +searched out Madame Picolet, and Madame was +transported with joy on seeing her one-time pupil. +</p> +<p> +The Frenchwoman held the girl of the Red +Mill in grateful remembrance, and for more than +Ruth’s contribution to Madame Picolet’s work +among the widows and orphans of her dear poilus. +In “Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall,” Madame +Picolet’s personal history is narrated, and +how Ruth had been the means of aiding the lady +in a very serious predicament is shown. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, my dear child!” exclaimed the Frenchwoman, +“it is a blessing of <em>le bon Dieu</em> that we +should meet again. And in this, my own country! +I love all Americans for what they are doing +for our poor poilus. Your sweet and volatile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +friend, Helen, is here. She has gone with her +father just now to a southern city. And even that +mischievous Mam’zelle Stone is working in a good +cause. She will be delight’ to see you, too.” +</p> +<p> +This was quite true. Jennie Stone welcomed +Ruth in the headquarters of the American +Women’s League with a scream of joy, and flew +into the arms of the girl of the Red Mill. +</p> +<p> +The latter staggered under the shock. Jennie +looked at her woefully. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Don’t</em> tell me that work agrees with me!” she +wailed. “<em>Don’t</em> say that I am getting fat again! +It’s the cooking.” +</p> +<p> +“What cooking? French cooking will never +make you fat in a hundred years,” declared Ruth, +who had had her own experiences in the French +hotels in war times. “Don’t tell me that, Jennie. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t. It’s the diet kitchen. I’m in that, +you know, and I’m tasting food all the time. It—it’s +<em>dreadful</em> the amount I manage to absorb +without thinking every day. I know, before this +war is over, I shall be as big as one of those British +tanks they talk about.” +</p> +<p> +“My goodness, girl!” cried Ruth. “You don’t +have to make a tank of yourself, do you? Exercise——” +</p> +<p> +“Now stop right there, Ruth Fielding!” cried +Jennie Stone, with flashing eyes. “You have as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +little sense as the rest of these people. They tell +me to exercise, and don’t you know that every +time I go horseback riding, or do anything else +of a violent nature, that I have to come right back +and eat enough victuals to put on twice the number +of pounds the exercise is supposed to take off? +Don’t—tell—me! It’s impossible to reduce and +keep one’s health.” +</p> +<p> +Jennie was doing something besides putting on +flesh, however. Her practical work in the diet +kitchen Ruth saw was worthy, indeed. +</p> +<p> +The girl of the Red Mill could not see Helen +at this time, but she believed her chum and Mr. +Cameron would look her up, wherever the supply +unit to which Ruth belonged was ultimately assigned. +</p> +<p> +She received a letter from Tom Cameron about +this time, too, and found that he was hard at work +in a camp right behind the French lines and had +already made one step in the line of progress, +being now a first lieutenant. He expected, with +his force of Pershing’s boys, to go into the +trenches for the first time within a fortnight. +</p> +<p> +She wished she might see Tom again before his +battalion went into action; but she was under command +of the Red Cross; and, in any case, she could +not have got her passport viséed for the front. +Mr. Cameron, as a representative of the United +States Government, with Helen, had been able +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +to visit Tom in the training camp over here. +</p> +<p> +Ruth wrote, however—wrote a letter that Tom +slipped into the little leather pouch he wore inside +his shirt, and which he would surely have with him +when he endured his first round of duty in the +trenches. With the verities of life and death so +near to them, these young people were very serious, +indeed. +</p> +<p> +Yet the note of cheerfulness was never lost +among the workers of the Red Cross with whom +Ruth Fielding daily associated. While she waited +for her unit to be assigned to its place the girl of +the Red Mill did not waste her time. There +was always something to see and something to +learn. +</p> +<p> +When congregated at the headquarters of the +Supply Department one day, the unit was suddenly +notified that their new chief had arrived. They +gathered quickly in the reception room and soon +a number of Red Cross officials entered, headed +by one in a major’s uniform and with several +medals on the breast of his coat. He was a medical +army officer in addition to being a Red Cross +commissioner. +</p> +<p> +“The ladies of our new base supply unit,” said +the commissioner, introducing the workers, “already +assigned to Lyse. That was decided last +evening. +</p> +<p> +“And it is my pleasure,” he added, “to introduce to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +you ladies your new chief. She has come +over especially to take charge of your unit. Madame +Mantel, ladies. Her experience, her executive +ability, and her knowledge of French makes +her quite the right person for the place. I know +you will welcome her warmly.” +</p> +<p> +Even before he spoke Ruth Fielding had recognized +the woman in black. Nor did she feel any +overwhelming surprise at Rose Mantel’s appearance. +It was as though the girl had expected, +back in her mind, something like this to happen. +</p> +<p> +The man who spoke like Legrand and the one +who looked like José, appearing at the Paris Red +Cross offices, had prepared Ruth for this very +thing. “Madame” Mantel had crossed the path +of the girl of the Red Mill again. Ruth crowded +behind her companions and hid herself from the +sharp and “snaky” eyes of the woman in black. +</p> +<p> +The question of how Mrs. Mantel had obtained +this place under the Red Cross did not trouble +Ruth at all. She had gained it. The thing that +made Ruth feel anxious was the object the woman +in black had in obtaining her prominent position +in the organization. +</p> +<p> +The girl could not help feeling that there was +something crooked about Rose Mantel, about Legrand, +and about José. These three had, she believed, +robbed the organization in Robinsburg. +Their “pickings” there had perhaps been small +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +beside the loot they could obtain with the woman +in black as chief of a base supply unit. +</p> +<p> +Her first experience with Mrs. Mantel in Cheslow +had convinced Ruth Fielding that the woman +was dishonest. The incident of the fire at Robinsburg +seemed to prove this belief correct. Yet how +could she convince the higher authorities of the +Red Cross that the new chief of this supply unit +was a dangerous person? +</p> +<p> +At least, Ruth was not minded to face Mrs. +Mantel at this time. She managed to keep out +of the woman’s way while they remained in Paris. +In two days the unit got their transportation for +Lyse, and it was not until they were well settled +in their work at the base hospital in that city that +Ruth Fielding came in personal contact with the +woman in black, her immediate superior. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had charge of the linen department and +had taken over the supplies before speaking with +Mrs. Mantel. They met in one of the hospital +corridors—and quite suddenly. +</p> +<p> +The woman in black, who still dressed so that +this nickname was borne out by her appearance, +halted in amazement, and Ruth saw her hand go +swiftly to her bosom—was it to still her heart’s +increased beat, or did she hide some weapon +there? The malevolent flash of Rose Mantel’s +eyes easily suggested the latter supposition. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Fielding!” she gasped. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +</p> +<p> +“How do you do, Mrs. Mantel?” the girl of +the Red Mill returned quietly. +</p> +<p> +“How—— I had no idea you had come +across. And in my unit?” +</p> +<p> +“I was equally surprised when I discovered +you, Mrs. Mantel,” said the girl. +</p> +<p> +“You—— How odd!” murmured the woman +in black. “Quite a coincidence. I had not seen +you since the fire——” +</p> +<p> +“And I hope there will be no fire here—don’t +you, Madame Mantel?” interrupted Ruth. +“That would be too dreadful.” +</p> +<p> +“You are right. Quite too dreadful,” agreed +Mrs. Mantel, and swept past the girl haughtily. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—A CHANGE OF BASE</h2> +<p> +Ruth’s daily tasks did not often bring her into +contact with the chief of her unit. This was a +very large hospital—one of the most extensive +base hospitals in France. There were thousands +of dollars’ worth of supplies in Ruth’s single department. +</p> +<p> +At present the American Red Cross at this +point was caring for French and Canadian +wounded. As the American forces came over, +were developed into fighting men, and were +brought back from the battlefield hospitals as +<em>grands blessés</em>, as the French call the more seriously +wounded, this base would finally handle +American wounded only. +</p> +<p> +Ruth went through some of the wards in her +spare hours, for she had become acquainted with +several of the nurses coming over. The appeal +of the helpless men (some of them blinded) +wrenched the tender heart of the girl of the Red +Mill as nothing she had ever before experienced. +</p> +<p> +She found that in her off hours she could be of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +use in the hospital wards. So many of the patients +wished to write home, but could do so only +through the aid of the Red Cross workers. This +task Ruth could perform, for she could write and +speak French. +</p> +<p> +Nobody interfered with her when she undertook +these extra tasks. She saw that many of the +girls in her own unit kept away from the wards +because the sight of the wounded and crippled +men was hard to bear. Even Clare Biggars had +other uses for her spare moments than writing letters +for helpless <em>blessés</em>. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was not forced into contact with the chief +of her unit, and was glad thereof. Her weekly +reports went up to Madame Mantel, and that was +quite all Ruth had to do with the woman in +black. +</p> +<p> +But the girl heard her mates talking a good +deal about the woman. The latter seemed to be +a favorite with most of the unit. Clare Biggars +quite “raved” about Madame Mantel. +</p> +<p> +“And she knows so many nice people!” Clare +exclaimed. “I wish my French was better. I +went to dinner last night with Madame Mantel at +that little café of the Chou-rouge. Half the people +there seemed to know her. And Professor +Perry——” +</p> +<p> +“Not the man who came over on the steamer +with us?” Ruth asked with sudden anxiety. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +</p> +<p> +“The very same,” said Clare. “He ate at our +table.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t suppose that little Italian chef, Signor +Aristo, was among those present, too?” Ruth +asked suspiciously. +</p> +<p> +“No. The only Italian I saw was not lame like +Signor Aristo. Madame said he was an Italian +commissioner. He was in uniform.” +</p> +<p> +“Who was in uniform? Aristo?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, no! How you talk! The Italian gentleman +at the restaurant. Aristo had a short leg, +don’t you remember? This man was dressed in +an Italian uniform—all red and green, and medals +upon his coat.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I will go to the Chou-rouge myself,” +Ruth said dryly. “It must be quite a popular +place. But I hope they serve something to eat besides +the red cabbage the name signifies.” +</p> +<p> +Again her suspicions were aroused to fever +heat. If Professor Perry was Legrand disguised, +he and Mrs. Mantel had got together again. And +Clare’s mention of the Italian added to Ruth’s +trouble of mind, too. +</p> +<p> +José could easily have assumed the heavy shoe +and called himself “Aristo.” Perhaps he was an +Italian, and not a Mexican, after all. The trio +of crooks, if such they were, had not joined each +other here in Lyse by accident. There was something +of a criminal nature afoot, Ruth felt sure. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +And yet with what evidence could she go to the +Red Cross authorities? +</p> +<p> +Besides, something occurred to balk her intention +of going to the café of the Chou-rouge to get +a glimpse of the professor and the Italian commissioner. +That day, much to her surprise, the +medical major at the head of the great hospital +sent for the girl of the Red Mill. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Fielding,” he said, upon shaking hands +with her, “you have been recommended to me +very highly as a young woman to fill a certain special +position now open at Clair. Do you mind +leaving your present employment?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, no,” the girl said slowly. +</p> +<p> +“I think the work at Clair will appeal to you,” +the major continued. “I understand that you +have been working at off hours in the convalescent +wards. That is very commendable.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, several of the other girls have been helping +there as well as I.” +</p> +<p> +“I do not doubt it,” he said with a smile. “But +it is reported to me that your work is especially +commendable. You speak very good French. It +is to a French hospital at Clair I can send you. +A representative of the Red Cross is needed there +to furnish emergency supplies when called upon, +and particularly to communicate with the families +of the <em>blessés</em>, and to furnish special services to +the patients. You have a way with you, I understand, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +that pleases the poor fellows and that fits +you for this position of which I speak.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I believe I should like it!” the girl cried, +her eyes glistening. It seemed to be just the work +she had hoped for from the beginning—coming +in personal touch with the wounded. A place +where her sympathies would serve the poor fellows. +</p> +<p> +“The position is yours. You will start to-night,” +declared the major. “Clair is within +sound of the guns. It has been bombarded twice; +but we shall hope the <em>Boches</em> do not get so near +again.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was delighted with the chance to go. But +suddenly a new thought came to her mind. She +asked: +</p> +<p> +“Who recommended me, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“You have the very best recommendation you +could have, Miss Fielding,” he said pleasantly. +“Your chief seems to think very highly of your +capabilities. Madame Mantel suggested your appointment.” +</p> +<p> +Fortunately, the major was not looking at Ruth +as he spoke, but was filling out her commission +papers for the new place she had accepted. The +girl’s emotion at that moment was too great to be +wholly hidden. +</p> +<p> +Rose Mantel to recommend her for any position! +It seemed unbelievable! Unless—— +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +</p> +<p> +The thought came to Ruth that the woman in +black wished her out of the way. She feared the +girl might say something regarding the Robinsburg +fire that would start an official inquiry here +in France regarding Mrs. Mantel and her particular +friends. Was that the basis for the woman in +black’s desire to get Ruth out of the way? Should +the latter tell this medical officer, here and now, +just what she thought of Mrs. Mantel? +</p> +<p> +How crass it would sound in his ears if she did +so! Rose Mantel had warmly recommended +Ruth for a position that the girl felt was just what +she wanted. +</p> +<p> +She could not decide before the major handed +her the papers and an order for transportation in +an ambulance going to Clair. He again shook +hands with her. His abrupt manner showed that +he was a busy man and that he had no more time +to give to her affairs. +</p> +<p> +“Get your passport viséed before you start. +Never neglect your passport over here in these +times,” advised the major. +</p> +<p> +Should she speak? She hesitated, and the +major sat down to his desk and took up his pen +again. +</p> +<p> +“Good-day, Miss Fielding,” he said. “And the +best of luck!” +</p> +<p> +The girl left the office, still in a hesitating frame +of mind. There were yet several hours before she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +left the town. Her bags were quickly packed. +All the workers of the Red Cross “traveled light,” +as Clare Biggars laughingly said. +</p> +<p> +Ruth decided that she could not confide in +Clare. Already the Western girl was quite enamored +of the smiling, snaky Rose Mantel. It would +be useless to ask Clare to watch the woman. Nor +could Ruth feel that it would be wise to go to the +French police and tell them of her suspicions concerning +the woman in black. +</p> +<p> +The French have a very high regard for the +American Red Cross—as they have for their own +<em>Croix Rouge</em>. They can, and do, accept assistance +for their needy poilus and for others from +the American Red Cross, because, in the end, the +organization is international and is not affiliated +with any particular religious sect. +</p> +<p> +To accuse one of the Red Cross workers in this +great hospital at Lyse would be very serious—no +matter to what Ruth’s suspicions pointed. The +girl could not bring herself to do that. +</p> +<p> +When she went to the prefect of police to have +her passport viséed she found a white-mustached, +fatherly man, who took a great interest in her as +an <em>Americaine mademoiselle</em> who had come across +the ocean to aid France. +</p> +<p> +“I kiss your hand, Mademoiselle!” he said. +“Your bravery and your regard for my country +touches me deeply. Good fortune attend your efforts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +at Clair. You may be under bombardment +there, my child. It is possible. We shall hope for +your safety.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth thanked him for his good wishes, and, +finally, was tempted to give some hint of her fears +regarding the supposed Professor Perry and the +Italian Clare had spoken of. +</p> +<p> +“They may be perfectly straightforward people,” +Ruth said; “but where I was engaged in Red +Cross work in America these two men—I am almost +sure they are the same—worked under the +names of Legrand and José, one supposedly a +Frenchman and the other a Mexican. There was +a fire and property was destroyed. Legrand and +José were suspected in the matter, but I believe +they got away without being arrested.” +</p> +<p> +“Mademoiselle, you put me under further obligations,” +declared the police officer. “I shall +make it my business to look up these two men—and +their associates.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Monsieur, I may be wrong.” +</p> +<p> +“If it is proved that they are in disguise, that is +sufficient. We are giving spies short shrift nowadays.” +</p> +<p> +His stern words rather troubled Ruth. Yet +she believed she had done her duty in announcing +her suspicions of the two men. Of Rose Mantel +she said nothing. If the French prefect made a +thorough investigation, as he should, he could not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +fail to discover the connection between the men +and the chief of the Red Cross supply unit at the +hospital. +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s arrangements were made in good season, +and Clare and the other girls bade her a warm +good-bye at the door of their pension. The ambulance +that was going to Clair proved to be an +American car of famous make with an ambulance +body, and driven by a tall, thin youth who wore +shell-bowed glasses. He was young and gawky +and one could see hundreds of his like leaving the +city high schools in America at half-past three +o’clock, or pacing the walks about college campuses. +</p> +<p> +He looked just as much out of place in the +strenuous occupation of ambulance driver as anyone +could look. He seemingly was a “bookish” +young man who would probably enjoy hunting a +Greek verb to its lair. Tom Cameron would have +called him “a plug”—a term meaning an over-faithful +student. +</p> +<p> +Ruth climbed into the seat beside this driver. +She then had no more than time to wave her hand +to the girls before the ambulance shot away from +the curb, turned a corner on two wheels, and, with +the staccato blast of a horn that sounded bigger +than the car itself, sent dogs and pedestrians flying +for their lives. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” gasped Ruth when she caught her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +breath. Then she favored the bespectacled driver +with a surprised stare. He looked straight ahead, +and, as they reached the edge of the town, he put +on still more speed, and the girl began to learn +why people who can afford it buy automobiles that +have good springs and shock absorbers. +</p> +<p> +“Do—do you <em>have</em> to drive this way?” she +finally shrilled above the clatter of the car. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. This is the best road—and that isn’t +saying much,” the bespectacled driver declared. +</p> +<p> +“No! I mean so fa-a-ast!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Does it jar you? I’ll pull her down. +Got so used to getting over all the ground I can +before I break something—or a shell comes——” +</p> +<p> +He reduced speed until they could talk to each +other. Ruth learned all in one gush, it seemed, +that his name was Charlie Bragg, that he had been +on furlough, and that they had given him a “new +second-hand flivver” to take up to Clair and beyond, +as his old machine had been quite worn +out. +</p> +<p> +He claimed unsmilingly to be more than twenty-one, +that he had left a Western college in the middle +of his freshman year to come over to drive a +Red Cross car, and that he was writing a book to +be called “On the Battlefront with a Flivver,” in +which his brother in New York already had a publisher +interested. +</p> +<p> +“Gee!” said this boy-man, who simply amazed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +Ruth Fielding, “Bob’s ten years older than I am, +and he’s married, and his wife makes him put on +rubbers and take an umbrella if it rains when he +starts for his office. And they used to call me +‘Bubby’ before I came over here.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth could appreciate that! She laughed and +they became better friends. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—NEW WORK</h2> +<p> +The prefect of police at Lyse was quite right. +Clair was within sound of the big guns. Indeed, +Ruth became aware of their steady monotone long +before the rattling car reached its destination. +</p> +<p> +As the first hour sped by and the muttering of +the guns came nearer and nearer, the girl asked +Charlie Bragg if there was danger of one of the +projectiles, that she began faintly to hear explode +individually, coming their way. Was not this +road a perilous one? +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, ma’am!” he declared. “Oh, yes, this +road has been bombarded more than once. Don’t +you notice how crooked it is? We turn out for +the shell holes and make a new road, that’s all. +But there’s no danger.” +</p> +<p> +“But aren’t you frightened at all—ever?” +murmured the girl of the Red Mill. +</p> +<p> +“What is there to be afraid of?” asked the boy, +whom his family called “Bubby.” “If they get +you they get you, and that’s all there is to it. +</p> +<p> +“We have to stop here and put the lights out,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +he added, seeing a gaunt post beside the road on +which was a half-obliterated sign. +</p> +<p> +“If you have to do that it must be perilous,” +declared Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“No. It’s just an order. Maybe they’ve forgotten +to take the sign down. But I don’t want +to be stopped by one of these old territorials—or +even by one of our own military police. You +don’t know when you’re likely to run into one of +them. Or maybe it’s a marine. Those are the +boys, believe me! They’re on the job first and +always.” +</p> +<p> +“But this time you boys who came to France to +run automobiles got ahead of even the marine +corps,” laughed Ruth. “Oh! What’s that?” +</p> +<p> +They were then traveling a very dark bit of +road. Right across the gloomy way and just +ahead of the machine something white dashed +past. It seemed to cross the road in two or three +great leaps and then sailed over the hedge on the +left into a field. +</p> +<p> +“Did you see it?” asked Charlie Bragg, and +there was a queer shake in his voice. +</p> +<p> +“Why, what is it? There it goes—all white!” +and the excited girl pointed across the field, half +standing up in the rocking car to do so. +</p> +<p> +“Going for the lines,” said the young driver. +</p> +<p> +“Is it a dog? A big dog? And he didn’t bark +or anything!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +</p> +<p> +“Never does bark,” said her companion. +“They say they can’t bark.” +</p> +<p> +“Then it’s a wolf! Wolves don’t bark,” Ruth +suggested. +</p> +<p> +“I guess that’s right. They say they are dumb. +Gosh! I don’t know,” Charlie said. “You didn’t +really see anything, did you?” and he said it so +very oddly that Ruth Fielding was perfectly +amazed. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean by that?” she demanded. +“I saw just as much as you did.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m not sure that I saw anything,” he +told her slowly. “The French say it’s the werwolf—and +that means just nothing at all.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” exclaimed Ruth, repeating the +word. “What old-world superstition is that? +The ghost of a wolf?” +</p> +<p> +“They have a story that certain people, selling +themselves to the Devil, can change at will into the +form of a wolf,” went on Charlie. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I know! They have that legend in every +language there is, I guess,” Ruth returned. +</p> +<p> +“Now you’ve said it!” +</p> +<p> +“How ridiculous that sounds—in this day and +generation. You don’t mean that people around +here believe such stories?” +</p> +<p> +“They do.” +</p> +<p> +“And you half believe it yourself, Mr. Bragg,” +cried Ruth, laughing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +</p> +<p> +“I tell you what it is,” the young fellow said +earnestly, while still guiding the car through the +dark way with a skill that was really wonderful. +“There are a whole lot of things I don’t know in +this world. I didn’t used to think so; but I do +now.” +</p> +<p> +“But you don’t believe in magic—either black +or white?” +</p> +<p> +“I know that that thing you saw just now—and +that I have seen twice before—flies through this +country just like that, and at night. It never +makes a sound. Soldiers have shot at it, and +either missed—or their bullets go right through +it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how absurd!” +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it?” and perhaps Charlie Bragg grinned. +But he went on seriously enough: “I don’t know. +I’m only telling you what they say. If it is a white +or gray dog, it leaps the very trenches and barbed-wire +entanglements on the front—so they say. It +has been seen doing so. No one has been able +to shoot it. It crosses what they call No Man’s +Land between the two battlefronts.” +</p> +<p> +“It carries despatches to the Germans, then!” +cried Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“That is what the military authorities say,” +said Charlie. “But these peasants don’t believe +that. They say the werwolf was here long before +the war. There is a chateau over back here—not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +far from the outskirts of Clair. The people say +that <em>the woman</em> lives there.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean—the woman?” asked +Ruth, between jounces, as the car took a particularly +rough piece of the road on high gear. +</p> +<p> +“The one who is the werwolf,” said Charlie, +and he tried to laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Bragg!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m only telling you what they say,” he +explained. “Lots of funny things are happening +in this war. But <em>this</em> began before August, nineteen-fourteen, +according to their tell.” +</p> +<p> +“Whose tell? And what other ‘funny’ things +do you believe have happened?” the girl asked, +with some scorn. +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right,” he declared more stoutly. +“When you’ve been here as long as I have you’ll +begin to wonder if there isn’t something in all +these things you hear tell of. Why, don’t you +know that fifty per cent, at least, of the French +people—poilus and all—believe that the spirit of +Joan of Arc led them to victory against the Boches +in the worst battle of all?” +</p> +<p> +“I have heard something of that,” Ruth admitted +quietly. “But that does not make me believe +in werwolves.” +</p> +<p> +“No. But you should hear old Gaston Pere +tell about this dog, or wolf, or ghost, or whatever +it is. Gaston keeps the toll-bridge just this side +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +of Clair. You’ll likely see him to-night. He told +me all about the woman.” +</p> +<p> +“For pity’s sake, Mr. Bragg!” gasped Ruth. +“Tell me more. You have got my feelings all +harrowed up. You can’t possibly believe in such +things—not really?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m only saying what Gaston—and others—say. +This woman is a very great lady. A countess. +She is an Alsatian—but not the right kind.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean by that?” interrupted +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“All Alsatians are not French at heart,” said +the young man. “This French count married her +years ago. She has two sons and both are in the +French army. But it is said that she has had influence +enough to keep them off the battle front. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it sounds queer, and crazy, and all!” he +added, with sudden vehemence. “But you saw +that white thing flashing by yourself. It is never +seen save at night, and always coming or going +between the chateau and the battle lines, or between +the lines themselves—out there in No Man’s +Land. +</p> +<p> +“It used to race the country roads in the same +direction—only as far as the then frontier—before +the war. So they say. Months before the +Germans spilled over into this country. There +you have it. +</p> +<p> +“The military authorities believe it is a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +despatch-carrying dog. The peasants say the old +countess is a werwolf. She keeps herself shut in +the chateau with only a few servants. The military +authorities can get nothing on her, and the +peasants cross themselves when they pass her +gate.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth said nothing for a minute or two. The +guns grew louder in her ears, and the car came +down a slight hill to the edge of a river. Here +was the toll-bridge, and an old man came out with +a shrouded lantern to take toll—and to look at +their papers, too, for he was an official. +</p> +<p> +“Good evening, Gaston,” said Charlie Bragg. +</p> +<p> +“Evening, Monsieur,” was the cheerful reply. +</p> +<p> +The American lad stooped over his wheel to +whisper: “Gaston! the werwolf just crossed the +road three miles or so back, going toward——” +and he nodded in the direction of the grumbling +guns. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Ma foi!</em>” exclaimed the old man. “It forecasts +another bombardment or air attack. Ah-h! +La-la!” +</p> +<p> +He sighed, nodded to Ruth, and stepped back +to let the car go on. The girl felt as though she +were growing superstitious herself. This surely +was a new and strange world she had come to—and +a new and strange experience. +</p> +<p> +“Do you really believe all that?” she finally +asked Charlie Bragg, point-blank. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +</p> +<p> +“I tell you I don’t know what I believe,” he +said. “But you saw the werwolf as well as I. +Now, didn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“I saw a light-colored dog of large size that ran +across the track we were following,” said Ruth +Fielding decisively, almost fiercely. “I’ll confess +to nothing else.” +</p> +<p> +But she liked Charlie Bragg just the same, and +thanked him warmly when he set her down at the +door of the Clair Hospital just before midnight. +He was going on to the ambulance station, several +miles nearer to the actual front. +</p> +<p> +There were no street lights in Clair and the +windows of the hospital were all shrouded, as well +as those of the dwellings left standing in the town. +Airplanes of the enemy had taken to bombing hospitals +in the work of “frightfulness.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was welcomed by a kindly Frenchwoman, +who was matron, or <em>directrice</em>, and shown to a cell +where she could sleep. Her duties began the next +morning, and it was not long before the girl of +the Red Mill was deeply engaged in this new +work—so deeply engaged, indeed, that she almost +forgot her suspicions about the woman in black, +and Legrand and José, or whatever their real +names were. +</p> +<p> +However, Charlie Bragg’s story of the werwolf, +of the suspected countess in her chateau behind +Clair, and Gaston’s prophecy regarding the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +meaning of the ghostly appearance, were not easily +forgotten. Especially, when, two nights following +Ruth’s coming to the hospital, a German +airman dropped several bombs near the institution. +Evidently he was trying to get the range +of the Red Cross hospital. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—THE DAYS ROLL BY</h2> +<p> +Ruth Fielding had already become inured to +the sights and sounds of hospital life at Lyse, and +to its work as well. Of course she was not under +the physical strain that the Red Cross nurses endured; +but her heart was racked by sympathy for +the <em>blessés</em> as greatly as the nurses’ own. +</p> +<p> +Starting without knowing anyone in the big hospital, +she quickly learned her duties, and soon +showed, too, her fitness for the special work assigned +her. Her responsibilities merely included +the arranging of special supplies and keeping the +key of her supply room; but the particular strain +attending her work was connected with the spiritual +needs of the wounded. +</p> +<p> +Their gratitude, she soon found, was a thing to +touch and warm the heart. Fretful they might be, +and as unreasonable as children at times. But in +the last count they were all—even the hardest of +them—grateful for what she could do for them. +</p> +<p> +She had read (who has not?) of the noble sacrifices +of that great woman whose work for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +helpless soldiers in hospital antedates the Red +Cross and its devoted workers—Florence Nightingale. +She knew how the sick and dying soldiers +in the Crimea kissed her shadow on their pillows +as she passed their cots, and blessed her with their +dying breaths. +</p> +<p> +The roughest soldier, wounded unto death, +turns to the thought of mother, of wife, of sweetheart, +of sister—indeed, turns to any good woman +whose voice soothes him, whose hand cools the +fever of his brow. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding began to understand better than +ever before this particular work that she was now +called upon to perform, and that she was so well +fitted to perform. +</p> +<p> +She was cheerful as well as sympathetic; she +was sane beyond most young girls in her management +of men—many men. +</p> +<p> +“Bless you, Mademoiselle!” declared the matron, +“of course they will make love to you. Let +them. It will do them good—the poor <em>blessés</em>—and +do you no harm. And you have a way with +you!” +</p> +<p> +Ruth got over being worried by amatory bouts +with the wounded poilus after a while. Her best +escape was to offer to write letters to the afflicted +one’s wife or sweetheart. That was part of her +work—to attend to as much of the correspondence +of the helplessly wounded as possible. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +</p> +<p> +And all the time she gave sympathy and care +to these strangers she hoped, if Tom Cameron +should chance to be wounded, some woman would +be as kind to him! +</p> +<p> +She had not received a second letter from Tom; +but after a fortnight Mr. Cameron and Helen +came unexpectedly to Clair. Helen spent two +days with her while Mr. Cameron attended to +some important business connected with his mission +in France. +</p> +<p> +They had seen Tom lately, and reported that +the boy had advanced splendidly in his work. Mr. +Cameron declared proudly that his son was a born +soldier. +</p> +<p> +He had already been in the trenches held by +both the French and British to study their methods +of defence and offence. This training all the junior, +as well as senior, officers of the American expeditionary +forces were having, for this was an altogether +new warfare that was being waged on the +shell-swept fields of France and Belgium. +</p> +<p> +Helen had arranged to remain in Paris with +Jennie Stone when her father went back to the +States. She expressed herself as rather horrified +at some of the things she learned Ruth did for +and endured from the wounded men. +</p> +<p> +“Why, they are not at all nice—some of them,” +she objected with a shudder. “That great, black-whiskered +man almost swore in French just now.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +</p> +<p> +“Jean?” laughed Ruth. “I presume he did. +He has terrible wounds, and when they are +dressed he lies with clenched hands and never +utters a groan. But when a man does <em>that</em>, keeping +subdued the natural outlet of pain through +groans and tears, his heart must of necessity, +Helen, become bitter. His irritation spurts forth +like the rain, upon the unjust and the just—upon +the guilty and innocent alike.” +</p> +<p> +“But he should consider what you are doing for +him—how you step out of your life down into +his——” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Up</em> into his, say, rather,” Ruth interrupted, +flushing warmly. “It is true he of the black beard +whom you are taking exception to, is a carter by +trade. But next to him lies a count, and those two +are brothers. Ah, these Frenchmen in this trial +of their patriotism are wonderful, Helen!” +</p> +<p> +“Some of them are very dirty, unpleasant men,” +sighed Helen, shaking her head. +</p> +<p> +“You must not speak that way of my children. +Sometimes I feel jealous of the nurses,” said +Ruth, smiling sadly, “because they can do so much +more for them than I. But I can supply them with +some comforts which the nurses cannot.” +</p> +<p> +They were, indeed, like children, these +wounded, for the most part. They called Ruth +“sister” in their tenderest moments; even “maman” +when they were delirious. The touch of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +her hand often quieted them when they were feverish. +She read to them when she could. And she +wrote innumerable letters—intimate, family letters +that these wounded men would have shrunk +from having their mates know about. +</p> +<p> +Ruth, too, had to share in all the “news from +home” that came to the more fortunate patients. +She unpacked the boxes sent them, and took care +of such contents as were not at once gobbled down—for +soldiers are inordinately fond of “goodies.” +She had to obey strictly the doctors’ orders about +these articles of diet, however, or some of the +patients would have failed to progress in their +convalescence. +</p> +<p> +Nor were all on the road to recovery; yet the +spirit of cheerfulness was the general tone of even +the “dangerous” cases. Their unshaken belief +was that they would get well and, many of them, +return to their families again. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Chère petite mère</em>,” Louis, the little Paris +tailor, shot through both lungs, whispered to Ruth +as she passed his bed, “see! I have something to +show you. It came to me only to-day in the mail. +Our first—and born since I came away. The very +picture of his mother!” +</p> +<p> +The girl looked, with sympathetic eyes, at the +postcard photograph of a very bald baby. Her +ability to share in their joys and sorrows made her +work here of much value. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +</p> +<p> +“I feel now,” said Louis softly, “that <em>le bon +Dieu</em> will surely let me live—I shall live to see the +child,” and he said it with exalted confidence. +</p> +<p> +But Ruth had already heard the head physician +of the hospital whisper to the nurse that Louis +had no more than twenty-four hours to live. Yet +the poilu’s sublime belief kept him cheerful to the +end. +</p> +<p> +Many, many things the girl of the Red Mill +was learning these days. If they did not exactly +age her, she felt that she could never again take +life so thoughtlessly and lightly. Her girlhood +was behind her; she was facing the verities of existence. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—AT THE GATEWAY OF THE CHATEAU</h2> +<p> +Ruth heard from Clare Biggars and the other +girls at the Lyse Hospital on several occasions; +but little was said in any of their letters regarding +Mrs. Mantel, and, of course, nothing at all of +the woman’s two friends, who Ruth had reason +to suspect were dishonest. +</p> +<p> +She wondered if the prefect of police had +looked up the records of “Professor Perry” and +the Italian commissioner, the latter who, she was +quite sure, could be identified as “Signor Aristo,” +the chef, and again as “José,” who had worked +for the Red Cross at Robinsburg. +</p> +<p> +France was infested, she understood, with spies. +It was whispered that, from highest to lowest, all +grades of society were poisoned by the presence +of German agents. +</p> +<p> +Whether Rose Mantel and her two friends +were actually working for the enemy or not, Ruth +was quite sure they were not whole-heartedly engaged +in efforts for the Red Cross, or for France. +</p> +<p> +However, her heart and hands were so filled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +with hourly duties that Ruth could not give much +thought to the unsavory trio. Rose Mantel, the +woman in black, and the two men Ruth feared and +suspected, must be attended to by the proper authorities. +The girl of the Red Mill had done +quite all that could be expected of her when she +warned the police head at Lyse to be on his +guard. +</p> +<p> +Her work in the hospital and supply room engaged +so much of her time that for the first few +weeks Ruth scarcely found opportunity to exercise +properly. <em>Madame, la Directrice</em>, fairly had +to drive her out of the hospital into the open +air. +</p> +<p> +The fields and lanes about the town were +lovely. Here the Hun had not seized and destroyed +everything of beauty. He had been +driven back too quickly in the early weeks of the +war to have wreaked vengeance upon all that was +French. +</p> +<p> +Clair was the center of a large agricultural +community. The farmers dwelt together in the +town and tilled the fields for several miles around. +This habit had come down from feudal times, for +then the farmers had to abide together for protection. +And even now the inhabitants of Clair +had the habit of likewise dwelling with their draft +animals and cattle! +</p> +<p> +The narrow courts between the houses and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +stables were piled high with farm fertilizer, and +the flies were a pest. The hospital authorities +could not get the citizens to clean up the town. +What had been the custom for centuries must +always be custom, they thought. +</p> +<p> +The grumbling of the big guns on the battlefront +was almost continuous, day and night. It +got so that Ruth forgot the sound. At night, +from the narrow window of her cell, she could +see the white glare over the trenches far away. +By day black specks swinging to and fro in the +air marked the observation balloons. Occasionally +a darting airplane attracted her to the window +of her workroom. +</p> +<p> +Clair was kept dark at night. Scarcely the +glimmer of a candle was allowed to shine forth +from any window or doorway. There was a motion +picture theater in the main street; but one +had to creep to it by guess, and perhaps blunder +in at the door of the grocer’s shop, or the wine +merchant’s, before finding the picture show. +</p> +<p> +By day and night the French aircraft and the +anti-aircraft guns were ready to fight off enemy +airplanes. During the first weeks of Ruth Fielding’s +sojourn in the town there were two warnings +of German air raids at night. A deliberate +attempt more than once had been made to bomb +the Red Cross hospital. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was frightened. The first alarm came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +after she was in bed. She dressed hurriedly and +ran down into the nearest ward. But there was +no bustle there. The ringing of the church bells +and the blowing of the alarm siren had not disturbed +the patients here, and she saw Miss +Simone, the night nurse, quietly going about her +duties as though there was no stir outside. +</p> +<p> +Ruth remembered Charlie Bragg’s statement +of the case: “If they get you they get you, and +that’s all there is to it!” And she was ashamed +to show fear in the presence of the nurse. +</p> +<p> +The French drove off the raider that time. +The second time the German dropped bombs in +the town, but nobody was hurt, and he did not +manage to drop the bombs near the hospital. +Ruth was glad that she felt less panic in this second +raid than before. +</p> +<p> +Thinking of Charlie Bragg must have brought +that young man to see her. He came to the hospital +on his rest day; and then later appeared +driving his ambulance and asked her to ride. +</p> +<p> +The red cross she wore gave authority for +Ruth’s presence in the ambulance, and nobody +questioned their object in driving through the +back roads and lanes beyond Clair. +</p> +<p> +The country here was not torn up by marmite +holes, or the chasms made by the Big Berthas. +Such a lovely, quiet country as it was! Were it +not for the steady grumbling of the guns Ruth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +Fielding could scarcely have believed that there +was such a thing as war. +</p> +<p> +But it was not likely that Ruth would ride +much with Charlie Bragg for the mere pleasure +of it. The young fellow drove at top speed at +all times, whether the road was smooth or +rutted. +</p> +<p> +“Really, I can’t help it, Miss Ruth,” he declared. +“Got the habit. We fellows want always +to get as far as we can with our loads before +something breaks down, or a shell gets us. +</p> +<p> +“By the way, seen anything of the werwolf +again?” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy! No. Do you suppose we did really +see anything that night?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t know. I know there was an attack +made upon this sector two nights after that, and +a raid on an artillery base that we were keeping +particularly secret from the Boches. Somebody +must have told them.” +</p> +<p> +“The Germans are always flying over and +photographing everything,” said Ruth doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Not that battery. Had it camouflaged and +only worked on it nights. The Boches put a barrage +right behind it and sent over troops who did +a lot of damage. +</p> +<p> +“Believe me! You don’t know to what +lengths these German spies and German-lovers +go. You don’t know who is true and who is false +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +about you. And the most ingenious schemes they +have,” added Charlie. +</p> +<p> +“They have tried secret wireless right here—within +two miles. But the radio makes too much +noise and is sure to be spotted at last. In one +place telegraph wires were carried for several +miles through the bed of a stream and the spy on +this side walked about with the telegraph instrument +in his pocket. When he got a chance he +went to the hut near the river bank, where the +ends of the wire were insulated, and tapped out +his messages. +</p> +<p> +“And pigeons! Don’t say a word. They’re +flying all the time, and sometimes they are shot +and the quills found under their wings. I tell +you spies just swarm all along this front.” +</p> +<p> +“Then,” Ruth said, ruminatingly, “it must have +been a dog we saw that night.” +</p> +<p> +“The werwolf?” asked Charlie, with a grin. +</p> +<p> +“That is nonsense. It is a dog trained to run +between the spy on this side and somebody behind +the German lines. Poor dog!” +</p> +<p> +“Wow!” ejaculated the young fellow with disgust. +“Isn’t that just like a girl? ‘Poor dog,’ +indeed!” +</p> +<p> +“Why! you don’t suppose that a noble dog +would <em>want</em> to be a spy?” cried Ruth. “You can +scarcely imagine a dog choosing any tricky way +through life. It is only men who deliberately +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +choose despicable means to despicable ends.” +</p> +<p> +“Hold on! Hold on!” cried Charlie Bragg. +“Spies are necessary—as long as there is going +to be war, anyway. The French have got quite +as brave and successful spies beyond the German +lines as the Germans have over here; only not so +many.” +</p> +<p> +“Well—I suppose that’s so,” admitted Ruth, +sighing. “There must be these terrible things as +long as the greater terrible thing, war, exists. +Oh! There is the chateau gateway. Drive +slower, Mr. Bragg—do, please!” +</p> +<p> +They mounted a little rise in the road. Above +they had seen the walls and towers of the chateau, +and had seen them clearly for some time. But +now the boundary wall of the estate edged the +road, and an arched gateway, with high grilled +gates and a small door set into the wall beside +the wider opening, came into view. +</p> +<p> +A single thought had stung Ruth Fielding’s +mind, but she did not utter it. It was: Why had +none of the German aviators dropped bombs upon +the stone towers on the hill? Was it a fact that +the enemy deliberately ignored the existence of +the chateau—that somebody in that great pile of +masonry won its immunity from German bombs +by playing the traitor to France and her cause? +</p> +<p> +Charlie had really reduced the speed of the +car until it was now only crawling up the slope +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +of the road. Something fluttered at the postern-gate—a +woman’s petticoat. +</p> +<p> +“There’s the old woman,” said Charlie, +“Take a good look at her.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t mean the countess?” gasped Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Whiskers! No!” chuckled the young fellow. +“She’s a servant—or something. Dresses like +one of these French peasants about here. And +yet she isn’t French!” +</p> +<p> +“You have seen her before, then,” murmured +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Twice. There! Look at her mustache, will +you? She looks like a grenadier.” +</p> +<p> +The woman at the gate was a tall, square-shouldered +woman, with a hard, lined and almost +masculine countenance. She stared with gloomy +look as the Red Cross ambulance rolled by. +Ruth caught Charlie’s arm convulsively. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! what was that?” she again whispered, +looking back at the woman in the gateway. +</p> +<p> +“What was what?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“That—something white—behind her—inside +the gate! Why, Mr. Bragg! was it a dog?” +</p> +<p> +“The werwolf,” chuckled the young chauffeur. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—SHOCKING NEWS</h2> +<p> +From both Helen and Jennie letters reached +the girl of the Red Mill quite frequently. Ruth +saw that always her correspondence was opened +and read by the censor; but that was the fate of +all letters that came to Clair. +</p> +<p> +“We innocents,” said the matron of the hospital, +“are thus afflicted because of the plague of +spies—a veritable Egyptian plague!—that infests +this part of my country. Do not be troubled, +Mam’zelle Americaine. You are not singled +out as though your friendliness to France +was questioned. +</p> +<p> +“And yet there may be those working in the +guise of the Red Cross who betray their trust,” +the woman added. “I hear of such.” +</p> +<p> +“Who are they? Where?” Ruth asked +eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“It is said that at Lyse many of the supplies +sent to the Red Cross from your great and charitable +country, Mam’zelle, have been diverted to +private dealers and sold to the citizens. Oh, our +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +French people—some of them—are hungry for +the very luxuries that the <em>blessés</em> should have. If +they have money they will spend it freely if good +things are to be bought.” +</p> +<p> +“At Lyse!” repeated Ruth. “Where I came +from?” +</p> +<p> +“Fear not that suspicion rests on you, <em>ma +chère amie</em>,” cooed the Frenchwoman. “Indeed, +no person in the active service of the Red Cross +at Lyse is suspected.” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody suspected in the supply department?” +asked Ruth doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no! The skirts of all are clear, I understand.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth said no more, but she was vastly worried +by what she had heard. What, really, had taken +place at Lyse? If a conspiracy had been discovered +for the robbing of the Red Cross Supply +Department, were not Mrs. Mantel and Legrand +and José engaged in it? +</p> +<p> +Yet it seemed that the woman in black was not +suspected. Ruth tried to learn more of the particulars, +but the matron of the Clair hospital did +not appear to know more than she had already +stated. +</p> +<p> +Ruth wrote to Clare Biggars immediately, asking +about the rumored trouble in their department +of the Red Cross at Lyse; but naturally +there would be delay before she could receive a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +reply, even if the censor allowed the information +to go through the mails. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Clair was shaken all through one +day and night by increased artillery fire on the +battle front. Never had Ruth Fielding heard the +guns roll so terribly. It was as though a continuous +thunderstorm shook the heavens and the +earth. +</p> +<p> +The Germans tried to drive back the reserves +behind the French trenches with the heaviest barrage +fire thus far experienced along this sector, +while they sent forward their shock troops to +overcome the thin French line in the dugouts. +</p> +<p> +Here and there the Germans gained a footing +in the front line of the French trenches; but always +they were driven out again, or captured. +</p> +<p> +The return barrage from the French guns at +last created such havoc among the German troops +that what remained of the latter were forced back +beyond their own front lines. +</p> +<p> +The casualties were frightful. News of the +raging battle came in with every ambulance to the +Clair Hospital. The field hospitals were overcrowded +and the wounded were being taken immediately +from the dressing stations behind the +trenches to the evacuation hospitals, like this of +Clair, before being operated upon. +</p> +<p> +This well-conducted institution, in which Ruth +had been busy for so many weeks, became in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +few hours a bustling, feverish place, with only +half enough nurses and fewer doctors than were +needed. +</p> +<p> +Ruth offered herself to the matron and was +given charge of one ward for all of one night, +while the surgeons and nurses battled in the operating +room and in the dangerous wards, with +the broken men who were brought in. +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s ward was a quiet one. She had already +learned what to do in most small emergencies. +Besides, these patients were, most of them, well +on toward recovery, and they slept in spite of +what was going on downstairs. +</p> +<p> +On this night Clair was astir and alight. The +peril of an air raid was forgotten as the ambulances +rolled in from the north and east. The +soft roads became little better than quagmires +for it had rained during a part of the day. +</p> +<p> +Occasionally Ruth went to an open window +and looked down at the entrance to the hospital +yard, where the lantern light danced upon the +glistening cobblestones. Here the ambulances, +one after another, halted, while the stretcher-bearers +and guards said but little; all was in +monotone. But the steady sound of human voices +in dire pain could not be hushed. +</p> +<p> +Some of the wounded were delirious when they +were brought in. Perhaps they were better off. +</p> +<p> +Nor was Ruth Fielding’s sympathy altogether +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +for the wounded soldiers. It was, as well, for +these young men who drove the ambulances—who +took their lives in their hands a score of +times during the twenty-four hours as they forced +their ambulances as near as possible to the front +to recover the broken men. She prayed for the +ambulance drivers. +</p> +<p> +Hour after hour dragged by until it was long +past midnight. There had been a lull in the procession +of ambulances for a time; but suddenly +Ruth saw one shoot out of the gloom of the upper +street and come rushing down to the gateway +of the hospital court. +</p> +<p> +This machine was stopped promptly and the +driver leaned forward, waving something in his +hand toward the sentinel. +</p> +<p> +“Hey!” cried a voice that Ruth recognized—none +other than that of Charlie Bragg. “Is Miss +Fielding still here?” +</p> +<p> +He asked this in atrocious French, but the +sentinel finally understood him. +</p> +<p> +“I will inquire, Monsieur.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind the inquiring business,” declared +Charlie Bragg. “I’ve got to be on my way. I +<em>know</em> she’s here. Get this letter in to her, will +you? We’re taking ’em as far as Lyse now, old +man. Nice long roll for these poor fellows who +need major operations.” +</p> +<p> +He threw in his clutch again and the ambulance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +rocked away. Ruth left the window and ran +down to the entrance hall. The sentinel was just +coming up the steps with the note in his hand. +Before Ruth reached the man she saw that the +envelope was stained with blood! +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Is that for <em>me</em>?” the girl gasped, reaching +out for it. +</p> +<p> +“Quite so, Mam’zelle,” and the man handed +it to her with a polite gesture. +</p> +<p> +Ruth seized it, and, with only half-muttered +thanks, ran back to her ward. Her heart beat +so for a minute that she felt stifled. She could +not imagine what the note could be, or what it +was about. +</p> +<p> +Yet she had that intuitive feeling of disaster +that portends great and overwhelming events. +Her thought was of Tom—Tom Cameron! Who +else would send her a letter from the direction of +the battle line? +</p> +<p> +She sank into her chair by the shaded lamp +behind the nurse’s screen. For a time she could +not even look at the letter again, with its stain of +blood so plain upon it! +</p> +<p> +Then she brought it into line with her vision +and with the lamplight streaming upon it. The +bloody finger marks half effaced something that +was written upon the face of the envelope in a +handwriting strange to Ruth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“This was found in tunic pocket of an American—badly +wounded—evacuated to L——. His +identification tag lost, as his arm was torn off at +elbow, and no tag around his neck.” +</p> +<p> +This brief statement was unsigned. Some +kindly Red Cross worker, perhaps, had written +it. Charlie Bragg must have known that the letter +was addressed to Ruth and offered to bring +it to her at Clair, the American on whom the +letter was found having been unconscious. +</p> +<p> +The flap on the envelope had not been sealed. +With trembling fingers the girl drew the paper +forth. Yes! It was in Tom Cameron’s handwriting, +and it began: “Dear Ruth Fielding.” +</p> +<p> +In his usual jovial style the letter proceeded. +It had evidently been written just before Tom +had been called to active duty in the trenches. +</p> +<p> +There were no American troops in the battle +line, as yet, Ruth well knew. But their officers, +in small squads, were being sent forward to learn +what it meant to be in the trenches under fire. +</p> +<p> +And Tom had been caught in this sudden +attack! Evacuated to Lyse! The field hospitals, +as well as this one at Clair, were overcrowded. +It was a long way to take wounded +men to Lyse to be operated upon. +</p> +<p> +“Operated upon!” The thought made Ruth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +shudder. She turned sick and dizzy. Tom +Cameron crippled and unconscious! An arm torn +off! A cripple for the rest of his life! +</p> +<p> +She looked at the bloody fingerprints on the +envelope. Tom’s blood, perhaps. +</p> +<p> +He was being taken to Lyse, where nobody +would know him and he would know nobody! +Oh, why had it not been his fate to be brought +to this hospital at Clair where Ruth was stationed? +</p> +<p> +There was a faint call from one of the patients. +It occurred twice before the girl aroused to its +significance. +</p> +<p> +She must put aside her personal fears and +troubles. She was here to attend to the ward +while the regular night nurse was engaged elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +Because Tom Cameron was wounded—perhaps +dying—she could not neglect her duty here. +She went quietly and brought a drink of cool +water to the feverish and restless <em>blessé</em> who had +called. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—AT THE WAYSIDE CROSS</h2> +<p> +The early hours of that morning were the most +tedious that Ruth Fielding ever had experienced. +She was tied here to the convalescent ward of +the Clair Hospital, while her every thought was +bent upon that rocking ambulance that might be +taking the broken body of Tom Cameron to the +great base hospital at Lyse. +</p> +<p> +Was it possible that Tom was in Charlie +Bragg’s car? What might not happen to the ambulance +on the dark and rough road over which +Ruth had once ridden with the young American +chauffeur. +</p> +<p> +While she was looking out of the window at +the ambulance as it halted at the gateway of the +hospital court, was poor Tom, unconscious and +wounded, in Charlie’s car? Oh! had she but suspected +it! Would she not have run down and +insisted that Tom be brought in here where she +might care for him? +</p> +<p> +Her heart was wrung by this possibility. She +felt condemned that she had not suspected Tom’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +presence at the time! Had not felt his nearness +to her! +</p> +<p> +Helen was far away in Paris. Already Mr. +Cameron was on the high seas. There was nobody +here so close to Tom as Ruth herself. Nor +could anybody else do more for him than Ruth, if +only she could find him! +</p> +<p> +The battle clouds and storm clouds both broke +in the east with the coming of the clammy dawn. +She saw the promise of a fair day just before sunrise; +then the usual morning fog shut down, +shrouding all the earth about the town. It would +be noon before the sun could suck up this +moisture. +</p> +<p> +Two hours earlier than expected the day nurse +came to relieve her. Ruth was thankful to be +allowed to go. Having spent the night here she +would not be expected to serve in her own department +that day. Yet she wished to see the matron +and put to her a request. +</p> +<p> +It was much quieter downstairs when she descended. +A nodding nurse in the hall told her +that every bed and every cot in the hospital was +filled. Some of the convalescents would be removed +as soon as possible so as to make room +for newly wounded poilus. +</p> +<p> +“But where is the matron?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, the good mother has gone to her bed—quite +fagged out. Twenty-four hours on her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +feet—and she is no longer young. If I can do anything +for the Americaine mademoiselle——?” +</p> +<p> +But Ruth told her no. She would write a note +for <em>Madame la Directrice</em>, to be given to her +when she awoke. For the girl of the Red Mill +was determined to follow a plan of her own. +</p> +<p> +By rights she should be free until the next morning. +There were twenty-four hours before her +during which she need not report for service. +Had she not learned of Tom’s trouble she doubtless +would have taken a short nap and then appeared +to help in any department where she might +be of use. +</p> +<p> +But, to Ruth’s mind, Tom’s need was greater +than anything else just then. In her walks about +Clair she had become acquainted with a French +girl who drove a motor-car—Henriette Dupay. +Her father was one of the larger farmers, and +the family lived in a beautiful old house some +distance out of town. Ruth made a brief toilet, a +briefer breakfast, and ran out of the hospital, +taking the lane that led to the Dupay farm. +</p> +<p> +The fog was so thick close to the ground that +she could not see people in the road until she was +almost upon them. But, then, it was so early that +not many even of the early-rising farmers were +astir. +</p> +<p> +In addition, the night having been so racked +with the sounds of the guns,—now dying out, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +thank heaven!-and the noise of the ambulances +coming in from the front and returning thereto, +that most of the inhabitants of Clair were exhausted +and slept late. +</p> +<p> +The American girl, well wrapped in a cloak +and with an automobile veil wound about her hat +and pulled down to her ears, walked on hurriedly, +stopping now and then at a crossroad to +make sure she was on the right track. +</p> +<p> +If Henriette Dupay could get her father’s car, +and would drive Ruth to Lyse, the latter would +be able to assure herself about Tom one way or +another. She felt that she must know just how +badly the young fellow was wounded! +</p> +<p> +To think! An arm torn off at the elbow—if +it was really Tom who had been picked up with +the note Ruth had received in his pocket. It was +dreadful to think of. +</p> +<p> +At one point in her swift walk Ruth found herself +sobbing hysterically. Yet she was not +a girl who broke down easily. Usually she was +selfcontrolled. Helen accused her sometimes of +being even phlegmatic. +</p> +<p> +She took a new grip upon herself. Her nerves +must not get the best of her! It might not be +Tom Cameron at all who was wounded. There +were other American officers mixed in with the +French troops on this sector of the battle front—surely! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet, who else but Tom would have carried that +letter written to “Dear Ruth Fielding”? The +more the girl of the Red Mill thought of it the +more confident she was that there could have been +no mistake made. Tom had fallen wounded in +the trenches and was now in the big hospital at +Lyse, where she had worked for some weeks in +the ranks of the Red Cross recruits. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly the girl was halted by a voice in the +fog. A shrill exclamation in a foreign tone—not +French—sounded just ahead. It was a man’s +voice, and a woman’s answered. The two seemed +to be arguing; but to hear people talking in anything +but French or English in this part of France +was enough to astonish anybody. +</p> +<p> +“That is not German. It is a Latin tongue,” +thought the girl, wonderingly. “Italian or Spanish, +perhaps. Who can it be?” +</p> +<p> +She started forward again, yet walked softly, +for the moss and short grass beside the road made +her footfalls indistinguishable a few yards away. +There loomed up ahead of her a wayside cross—one +of those weather-worn and ancient monuments +so often seen in that country. +</p> +<p> +In walking with Henriette Dupay, Ruth had +seen the French girl kneel a moment at this junction +of the two lanes, and whisper a prayer. Indeed, +the American girl had followed her example, +for she believed that God hears the reverent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +prayer wherever it is made. And Ruth had felt +of late that she had much to pray for. +</p> +<p> +The voices of the two wrangling people suggested +no worship, however. Nor were they +kneeling at the wayside shrine. She saw them, +at last, standing in the middle of the cross lane. +One, she knew, had come down from the +chateau. +</p> +<p> +Ruth saw that the woman was the heavy-faced +creature whom she had once seen at the gateway +of the chateau when riding past with Charlie +Bragg. This strange-looking old woman Charlie +had said was a servant of the countess up at the +chateau and that she was not a Frenchwoman. +Indeed, the countess herself was not really +French, but was Alsatian, and “the wrong kind,” +to use the chauffeur’s expression. +</p> +<p> +The American girl caught a glimpse of the +woman’s face and then hid her own with her veil. +But the man’s countenance she did not behold until +she had passed the shrine and had looked +back. +</p> +<p> +He had wheeled to look after Ruth. He was a +small man and suddenly she saw, as he stepped +out to trace her departure more clearly, that he +was lame. He wore a heavy shoe on one foot +with a thick and clumsy sole-such as the supposed +Italian chef had worn coming over from +America on the Red Cross ship. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +</p> +<p> +Was it the man, José, suspected with Legrand +and Mrs. Rose Mantel—all members of a band +of conspirators pledged to rob the Red Cross? +Ruth dared not halt for another glance at him. +She pulled the veil further over her face and +scuttled on up the lane toward the Dupay farmhouse. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—MANY THINGS HAPPEN</h2> +<p> +Ruth reached the farmhouse just as the family +was sitting down to breakfast. The house and +outbuildings of the Dupays were all connected, as +is the way in this part of France. No shell had +fallen near the buildings, which was very fortunate, +indeed. +</p> +<p> +Henriette’s father was a one-armed man. He +had lost his left arm at the Marne, and had been +honorably discharged, to go back to farming, in +order to try to raise food for the army and for +the suffering people of France. His two sons and +his brothers were still away at the wars, so every +child big enough to help, and the women of the +family as well, aided in the farm work. +</p> +<p> +No petrol could be used to drive cars for +pleasure; but Henriette sometimes had to go for +supplies, or to carry things to market, or do other +errands connected with the farm work. Ruth +hoped that the French girl would be allowed to +help her. +</p> +<p> +The hospitable Dupays insisted upon the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +American girl’s sitting down to table with them. +She was given a seat on the bench between Henriette +and Jean, a lad of four, who looked shyly +up at the visitor from under heavy brown lashes, +and only played with his food. +</p> +<p> +It was not the usual French breakfast to which +Ruth Fielding had become accustomed—coffee +and bread, with possibly a little compote, or an +egg. There was meat on the table—a heavy +meal, for it was to be followed by long hours of +heavy labor. +</p> +<p> +“What brings you out so early after this awful +night?” Henriette whispered to her visitor. +</p> +<p> +Ruth told her. She could eat but little, she was +so anxious about Tom Cameron. She made it +plain to the interested French girl just why she +so desired to follow on to Lyse and learn if it +really was Tom who had been wounded, as the +message on the blood-stained envelope said. +</p> +<p> +“I might start along the road and trust to some +ambulance overtaking me,” Ruth explained. +“But often there is a wounded man who can sit up +riding on the seat with the driver—sometimes +two. I could not take the place of such an unfortunate.” +</p> +<p> +“It would be much too far for you to walk, +Mademoiselle,” said the mother, overhearing. +“We can surely help you.” +</p> +<p> +She spoke to her husband—a huge man, of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +whom Ruth stood rather in awe, he was so stern-looking +and taciturn. But Henriette said he had +been a “laughing man” before his experience in +the war. War had changed many people, this +French girl said, nodding her head wisely. +</p> +<p> +“The venerable Countess Marchand,” pointing +to the chateau on the hill, “had been neighborly +and kind until the war came. Now she shut herself +away from all the neighbors, and if a body +went to the chateau it was only to be confronted +by old Bessie, who was the countess’ housekeeper, +and her only personal servant now.” +</p> +<p> +“Old Bessie,” Ruth judged, must be the hard-featured +woman she had seen at the chateau gate +and, on this particular morning, talking to the +lame man at the wayside cross. +</p> +<p> +The American girl waited now in some trepidation +for Dupay to speak. He seemed to consider +the question of Ruth’s getting to Lyse quite +seriously for some time; then he said quietly that +he saw no objection to Henriette taking the sacks +of grain to M. Naubeck in the touring car body +instead of the truck, and going to-day to Lyse on +that errand instead of the next week. +</p> +<p> +It was settled so easily. Henriette ran away +to dress, while a younger brother slipped out to +see that the car was in order for the two girls. +Ruth knew she could not offer the Dupays any +remuneration for the trouble they took for her, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +but she was so thankful to them that she was +almost in tears when she and Henriette started +for Lyse half an hour later. +</p> +<p> +“The main road is so cut up and rutted by the +big lorries and ambulances that we would better +go another way,” Henriette said, as she steered +out of the farm lane into the wider road. +</p> +<p> +They turned away from Lyse, it seemed to +Ruth; but, after circling around the hill on which +the chateau stood, they entered a more traveled +way, but one not so deeply rutted. +</p> +<p> +A mile beyond this point, and just as the motor-car +came down a gentle slope to a small stream, +crossed by a rustic bridge, the two girls spied +another automobile, likewise headed toward +Lyse. It was stalled, both wheels on the one side +being deep in a muddy rut. +</p> +<p> +There were two men with the car—a small man +and a much taller individual, who was dressed in +the uniform of a French officer—a captain, as +Ruth saw when they came nearer. +</p> +<p> +The little man stepped into the woods, perhaps +for a sapling, with which to pry up the car, before +the girls reached the bottom of the hill. At +least, they only saw his back. But when Ruth +gained a clear view of the officer’s face she was +quite shocked. +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter?” Henriette asked her, +driving carefully past the stalled car. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +</p> +<p> +Ruth remained silent until they were across the +bridge and the French girl had asked her question +a second time, saying: +</p> +<p> +“What is it, Mademoiselle Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +“Do you know that man?” Ruth returned, +proving herself a true Yankee by answering one +question with another. +</p> +<p> +“The captain? No. I do not know him. +There are many captains,” and Henriette +laughed. +</p> +<p> +“He—he looks like somebody I know,” Ruth +said hesitatingly. She did not wish to explain her +sudden shocked feeling on seeing the man’s face. +He looked like the shaven Legrand who, on the +ship coming over and in Lyse, had called himself +“Professor Perry.” +</p> +<p> +If this was the crook, who, Ruth believed, had +set fire to the business office of the Robinsburg +Red Cross headquarters, he had evidently not +been arrested in connection with the supply department +scandal, of which the matron of the +hospital had told her. At least, he was now free. +And the little fellow with him! Had not Ruth, +less than two hours before, seen José talking with +the woman from the chateau at the wayside shrine +near Clair? +</p> +<p> +The mysteries of these two men and their disguises +troubled Ruth Fielding vastly. It seemed +that the prefect of police at Lyse had not apprehended +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +them. Nor was Mrs. Mantel yet in the +toils. +</p> +<p> +This was a longer way to Lyse by a number +of miles than the main road; nevertheless, it was +probable that the girls gained time by following +the more roundabout route. +</p> +<p> +It was not yet noon when Henriette stopped +at a side entrance to the hospital where Ruth +had served her first few weeks for the Red Cross +in France. The girl of the Red Mill sprang out, +and, asking her friend to wait for her, ran into +the building. +</p> +<p> +The guard remembered her, and nobody +stopped her on the way to the reception office, +where a record was kept of all the patients in the +great building. The girl at the desk was a +stranger to Ruth, but she answered the visitor’s +questions as best she could. +</p> +<p> +She looked over the records of the wounded +accepted from the battle front or from evacuation +hospitals during the past forty-eight hours. +There was no such name as Cameron on the list; +and, as far as the clerk knew, no American at all +among the number. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, there <em>must</em> be!” gasped Ruth, wringing +her hands. “Surely there is a mistake. There is +no other hospital here for him to be brought to, +and I am sure this person was brought to Lyse. +They say his arm is torn off at the elbow.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +</p> +<p> +A nurse passing through the office stopped and +inquired in French of whom Ruth was speaking. +The girl of the Red Mill explained. +</p> +<p> +“I believe we have the <em>blessé</em> in my ward,” +this nurse said kindly. “Will you come and see, +Mademoiselle? He has been quite out of his +head, and perhaps he is an American, for he has +not spoken French. We thought him English.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, let me see him!” cried Ruth, and hastened +with her into one of the wards where she knew +the most serious cases were cared for. +</p> +<p> +Her fears almost overcame the girl. Her +interest in Tom Cameron was deep and abiding. +For years they had been friends, and now, of +late, a stronger feeling than friendship had developed +in her heart for Tom. +</p> +<p> +His courage, his cheerfulness, the real, solid +worth of the young fellow, could not fail to endear +him to one who knew him as well as did +Ruth Fielding. If he had been shot down, mangled, +injured, perhaps, to the very death! +</p> +<p> +How would Helen and their father feel if Tom +was seriously wounded? If Ruth found him here +in the hospital, should she immediately communicate +with his twin sister in Paris, and with his +father, who had doubtless reached the States by +this time? +</p> +<p> +Her mind thus in a turmoil, she followed the +nurse into the ward and down the aisle between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +the rows of cots. She had helped comfort the +wounded in this very ward when she worked in +this hospital; but she looked now for no familiar +face, save one. She looked ahead for the white, +strained countenance of Tom Cameron against the +coarse pillow-slip. +</p> +<p> +The nurse stopped beside a cot. Oh, the relief! +There was no screen around it! The occupant +was turned with his face away from the aisle. +The stump of the uplifted arm on his left side, +bandaged and padded, was uppermost. +</p> +<p> +“Tom!” breathed the girl of the Red Mill, +holding back just a little and with a hand upon +her breast. +</p> +<p> +It was a head of black hair upon the pillow. +It might easily have been Tom Cameron. And +in a moment Ruth was sure that he was an +American from the very contour of his visage—but +it was <em>not</em> Tom! +</p> +<p> +“Oh! It’s not! It’s not!” she kept saying +over and over to herself. And then she suddenly +found herself sitting in a chair at the end +of the ward and the nurse was saying to her: +</p> +<p> +“Are you about to faint, Mademoiselle? It is +the friend you look for?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no! I sha’n’t faint,” Ruth declared, getting +a grip upon her nerves again. “It is not my +friend. Oh! I cannot tell you how relieved I +am.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ah, yes! I know,” sighed the Frenchwoman. +“I have a father and a brother in our +army and after every battle I fear until I hear +from them. I am glad for your sake it is another +than your friend. And yet—<em>he</em> will have friends +who suffer, too—is it not?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—AGAIN THE WERWOLF</h2> +<p> +Ruth Fielding felt as though she needed a +cup of tea more than she ever had before in her +life. And Clare Biggars had her own tea service +in her room at the pension. Ruth had inquired +for Clare and learned that this was a free hour +for the Kansas girl. So Ruth and Henriette +Dupay drove to the boarding-house; for to get a +good cup of tea in one of the restaurants or cafés +was impossible. +</p> +<p> +Her relief at learning the wounded American +in the hospital was not Tom Cameron was quite +overwhelming at first. Ruth had come out to the +car so white of face that the French girl was +frightened. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Mam’zelle Fielding! It is that you haf +los’ your friend?” cried the girl in the stammering +English she tried so hard to make perfect. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know that,” sighed Ruth. “But, at +least, if he is wounded, he was not brought here +to this hospital.” +</p> +<p> +She could not understand how that letter had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +been found in the pocket of the young man she +had seen in the hospital ward. Tom Cameron +certainly had written that letter. Ruth would not +be free from worry until she had heard again +from Tom, or of him. +</p> +<p> +The pension was not far away, and Ruth made +her friend lock the car and come in with her, for +Clare was a hospitable soul and it was lunch time. +To her surprise Ruth found Clare in tears. +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter, my dear girl?” cried +Ruth, as Clare fled sobbing to her arms the moment +she saw the girl of the Red Mill. “What +can have happened to you?” +</p> +<p> +“Everything!” exploded the Kansas girl. “You +can’t imagine! I’ve all but been arrested, and +the Head called me down dreadfully, and +Madame——” +</p> +<p> +“Madame Mantel?” Ruth asked sharply. “Is +she the cause of your troubles? I should have +warned you——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the poor dear!” groaned Clare. “She +feels as bad about it as I do. Why, they took her +to the police station, too!” +</p> +<p> +“You seem to have all been having a fine time,” +Ruth said, rather tartly. “Tell me all about it. +But ask us to sit down, and <em>do</em> give us a cup of +tea. This is Henriette Dupay, Clare, and a very +nice girl she is. Try to be cordial—hold up the +reputation of America, my dear.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +</p> +<p> +“How-do?” gulped Clare, giving the French +girl her hand. “I <em>am</em> glad Ruth brought you. +But it was only yesterday——” +</p> +<p> +“What was only yesterday?” asked Ruth, as +the hostess began to set out the tea things. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth! Haven’t you heard something +about the awful thing that happened here? That +Professor Perry——” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! What about him?” asked Ruth. “You +know what I wrote you—that I had heard there +was trouble in the Supply Department? You +haven’t answered my letter.” +</p> +<p> +“No. I was too worried. And finally—only +yesterday, as I said—I was ordered to appear +before the prefect of police.” +</p> +<p> +“A nice old gentleman with a white mustache.” +</p> +<p> +“A horrid old man who said the <em>meanest</em> things +to dear Madame Mantel!” cried Clare hotly. +</p> +<p> +Ruth saw that the Western girl was still +enamored of the woman in black, so she was +careful what she said in comment upon Clare’s +story. +</p> +<p> +All Ruth had to do was to keep still and Clare +told it all. Perhaps Henriette did not understand +very clearly what the trouble was, but she looked +sympathetic, too, and that encouraged Clare. +</p> +<p> +It seemed that Mrs. Mantel had made a companion +of Clare outside of the hospital, and Ruth +could very well understand why. Clare’s father +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +was a member of Congress and a wealthy man. +It was to be presumed that Clare seemed to the +woman in black well worth cultivating. +</p> +<p> +The Kansas girl had gone with the woman to +the café of the Chou-rouge more than once. Each +time the so-called Professor Perry and the Italian +commissioner, whose name Clare had forgotten—“But +that’s of no consequence,” thought Ruth, +“for he has so many names!”—had been very +friendly with the Red Cross workers. +</p> +<p> +Then suddenly the professor and the Italian +had disappeared. The head of the Lyse hospital +had begun to make inquiries into the working of +the Supply Department. There had been billed +to Lyse great stores of goods that were not accounted +for. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Madame Mantel was heartbroken,” +Clare said. “She wished to resign at once. Oh, +it’s been terrible!” +</p> +<p> +“Resign under fire?” suggested Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Oh—you understand—she felt so bad that her +department should be under suspicion. Of course, +it was not her fault.” +</p> +<p> +“Did the head say <em>that</em>?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, he didn’t have to!” cried Clare. “I +hope <em>you</em> are not suspicious of Madame Mantel, +Ruth Fielding?” +</p> +<p> +“You haven’t told me enough to cause me to +suspect anybody yet—save yourself,” laughed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +Ruth. “I suspect that you are telling the story +very badly, my dear.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I suppose that is so,” admitted Clare, +and thereafter she tried to speak more connectedly +about the trouble which had finally engrossed +all her thought. +</p> +<p> +The French police had unearthed, it was said, +a wide conspiracy for the diversion of Red Cross +supplies from America to certain private hands. +These goods had been signed for in Mrs. Mantel’s +office; she did not know by whom, but the +writing on the receipts was not in her hand. +That was proved. And, of course, the goods had +never been delivered to the hospital at Lyse. +</p> +<p> +The receipts must have been forged. The +only point made against Mrs. Mantel, it seemed, +was that she had not reported that these goods, +long expected at Lyse, were not received. Her +delay in making inquiry for the supplies gave the +thieves opportunity for disposing of the goods +and getting away with the money paid for them +by dishonest French dealers. +</p> +<p> +The men who had disposed of the supplies and +had pocketed the money (or so it was believed) +were the man who called himself Professor Perry +and the Italian commissioner. +</p> +<p> +“And what do you think?” Clare went on to +say. “That professor is no college man at all. +He is a well-known French crook, they say, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +usually travels under the name of Legrand. +</p> +<p> +“They say he had been in America until it got +too hot for him there, and he crossed on the same +boat with us—you remember, Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I remember,” groaned the girl of the +Red Mill. “The Italian, too?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know for sure about him. They say +he isn’t an Italian, but a Mexican, anyway. And +he has a police record in both hemispheres. +</p> +<p> +“Consider! Madame Mantel and I were seen +hobnobbing with them! I know she feels just +as I do. I hate to show myself on the street!” +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t feel that way,” Ruth replied +soothingly. “You could not help it.” +</p> +<p> +“But the police—ordering me before that +nasty old prefect!” exclaimed the angry girl. +“And he said such things to me! Think! He +had cabled the chief of police in my town to ask +who I was and if I had a police record. What +do you suppose my father will say?” +</p> +<p> +“I guarantee that he will laugh at you,” Ruth +declared. “Don’t take it so much to heart. Remember +we are in a strange country, and that +that country is at war.” +</p> +<p> +“I never shall like the French system of government, +just the same!” declared Clare, with +emphasis. +</p> +<p> +“And—and what about Mrs. Mantel?” Ruth +asked doubtfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +“I am going over to see her now,” Clare said, +wiping her eyes. “I am so sorry for her. I believe +that horrid prefect thinks she is mixed up in +the plot that has cost the Red Cross so much. +They say nearly ten thousand dollars worth of +goods was stolen, and those two horrid men—Professor +Perry and the other—have got away +and the French police cannot find them.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was secretly much disturbed by Clare’s +story. She believed that she knew something +about the pair of crooks who were accused—Rose +Mantel’s two friends—that might lead to their +capture. She was sure Henriette Dupay and she +had passed them with their stalled automobile on +the road to Lyse that morning. +</p> +<p> +In addition, she believed the two crooks were +connected with those people at the Chateau +Marchand, who were supposed to be pro-German. +Now she knew what language she had heard +spoken by José and the hard-featured Bessie of +the chateau, there by the wayside cross. It was +Spanish. The woman might easily be a Mexican +as well as José. +</p> +<p> +Should she go to the prefect of police and tell +him of these things? It seemed to Ruth Fielding +that she was much entangled in a conspiracy of +wide significance. The crooks who had robbed +the Red Cross seemed lined up with the spies of +the Chateau Marchand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +</p> +<p> +And there was the strange animal—dog, or +what-not!—that was connected with the chateau. +The werwolf! Whether she believed in such +traditional tales or not, the American girl was +impressed with the fact that there was much that +was suspicious in the whole affair. +</p> +<p> +Yet she naturally shrank from getting her own +fingers caught in the cogs of this mystery that the +French police were doubtless quite able to handle +in their own way, and all in good time. It was +evident that even Mrs. Mantel was not to be allowed +to escape the police net. She had not been +arrested yet; but she doubtless was watched so +closely now that she could neither get away, nor +aid in doing further harm. +</p> +<p> +As for Clare Biggars, she was perfectly innocent +of all wrong-doing or intent. And she was +quite old enough to take care of herself. Besides, +her father would doubtless be warned that his +daughter was under suspicion of the French police +and he would communicate with the United States +Ambassador at Paris. She would be quite safe +and suffer no real trouble. +</p> +<p> +So Ruth decided to return to Clair without going +to the police, and, after lunch, having delivered +the bags of grain which had filled the tonneau +of the car, she and Henriette Dupay drove +out of town again. +</p> +<p> +They were delayed for some time by tire trouble, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +the French girl proved herself as good +a mechanic as was necessary in repairing the +tube. But night was falling before they were halfway +home. +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s thoughts were divided between the conspiracy, +in which Mrs. Mantel was engaged, and +her worry regarding Tom Cameron. She had +filed a telegraph message at the Lyse Hospital +to be sent to Tom’s cantonment, where he was +training, and hoped that the censor would allow +it to go through. For she knew she could not be +satisfied that Tom had not been wounded until +she heard from him. +</p> +<p> +The American girl’s nerves had been shot +through by the affair of the early morning, when +the note from Tom had been brought to her. +What had followed since that hour had not served +to help her regain her self-control. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, as Henriette drove the car on +through the twilight, following the road by which +they had gone to Lyse, there was reason for Ruth +suddenly exclaiming aloud, when she saw something +in the track ahead: +</p> +<p> +“Henriette! Look! What can that be? Do +you see it?” +</p> +<p> +“What do you see, Mademoiselle Ruth?” +asked the French girl, reducing the speed of the +car in apprehension. +</p> +<p> +“There! That white——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +</p> +<p> +“<em>Nom de Dieu!</em>” shrieked Henriette, getting +sight of the object in question. +</p> +<p> +The girl paled visibly and shrank back into her +seat. Ruth cried out, fearing the steering wheel +would get away from Henriette. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Did you see?” gasped the latter. +</p> +<p> +The white object had suddenly disappeared. +It seemed to Ruth as though it had actually melted +into thin air. +</p> +<p> +“That was the werwolf!” continued the French +girl, and crossed herself. “Oh, my dear Mademoiselle, +something is sure now to happen—something +very bad!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—THE COUNTESS AND HER DOG</h2> +<p> +RUTH FIELDING had almost instantly identified +the swiftly moving object in the road as the same +that she had seen weeks before while riding with +Charlie Bragg toward Clair. And yet she could +not admit as true the assertion made both by the +ambulance driver and the excited French girl. +</p> +<p> +To recognize the quickly disappearing creature +as a werwolf—the beast-form of a human being, +sold irrevocably to the Powers of Darkness—was +quite too much for a sane American girl like Ruth +Fielding! +</p> +<p> +“Why, Henriette!” she cried, “that is nothing +but a dog.” +</p> +<p> +“A wolf, Mademoiselle. A werwolf, as I +have told you. A very wicked thing.” +</p> +<p> +“There isn’t such a thing,” declared Ruth +bluntly. “That was a dog—a white or a gray +one. And of large size. I have seen it once before—perhaps +twice,” Ruth added, remembering +the glimpse she had caught of such a creature +with Bessie at the chateau gate. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it is such bad fortune to see it!” sighed +Henriette. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be so childish,” Ruth adjured, +brusquely. “Nothing about that dog can hurt +you. But I have an idea the poor creature may +be doing the French cause harm.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mademoiselle! You have heard the vile +talk about the dear countess!” cried Henriette. +“It is not so. She is a brave and lovely lady. +She gives her all for France. She would be filled +with horror if she knew anybody connected her +with the spies of <em>les Boches</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought it was generally believed that she +was an Alsatian <em>of the wrong kind</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“It is a wicked calumny,” Henriette declared +earnestly. “But I have heard the tale of the +werwolf ever since I was a child—long before +this dreadful war began.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> +<p> +“It was often seen racing through the country +by night,” the girl declared earnestly. “They +say it comes from the chateau, and goes back to +it. But that the lovely countess is a wicked one, +and changes herself into a devouring wolf—ah, +no, no, Mademoiselle! It is impossible! +</p> +<p> +“The werwolf comes and goes across the +battle front, it is said. Indeed, it used to cross +the old frontier into Germany in pre-war times. +Why may not some wicked German woman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +change herself into a wolf and course the woods +and fields at night? Why lay such a thing to the +good Countess Marchand?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth saw that the girl was very much in earnest, +and she cast no further doubt upon the occupant +of the chateau, the towers of which had been +in sight in the twilight for some few minutes. +Henriette was now driving slowly and had not +recovered from her fright. They came to a road +which turned up the hill. +</p> +<p> +“Where does that track lead?” Ruth asked +quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Past the gates of the chateau, Mademoiselle.” +</p> +<p> +“You say you will take me to the hospital at +Clair before going home,” Ruth urged. “Can +we not take this turn?” +</p> +<p> +“But surely,” agreed Henriette, and steered +the car into the narrow and well-kept lane. +</p> +<p> +Ruth made no explanation for her request. +But she felt sure that the object which had startled +them both, dog or whatever it was, had dived +into this lane to disappear so quickly. The “werwolf” +was going toward the chateau on this evening +instead of away from it. +</p> +<p> +There was close connection between the two +criminals, who had come from America on the +Red Cross steamship, Legrand and José, with +whatever was going on between the Chateau +Marchand and the Germans. Werwolf, or despatch dog, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +Ruth was confident that the creature +that ran by night across the shell-racked fields was +trained to spy work. +</p> +<p> +Who was guilty at the chateau? That seemed +to be an open question. +</p> +<p> +Henriette’s declaration that it was not the +Countess Marchand, strengthened the suspicion +already rife in Ruth’s mind that the old servant, +Bessie, was the German-lover. +</p> +<p> +The latter was known to José, one of the crooks +from America. She might easily be of the same +nationality as José—Mexican. And the Mexicans +largely are pro-German. +</p> +<p> +José and Legrand were already under suspicion +of a huge swindle in Red Cross stores. It would +seem that if these men would steal, it was fair to +presume they would betray the French Government +for money. +</p> +<p> +It was a mixed-up and doubtful situation at +best. Ruth Fielding intuitively felt that she had +hold of the ends of certain threads of evidence +that must, in time, lead to the unraveling of the +whole scheme of deceit and intrigue. +</p> +<p> +It was still light enough on the upland for the +girls to see some distance along the road ahead. +Henriette drove the car slowly as they approached +the wide gateway of the chateau. +</p> +<p> +Ruth distinguished the flutter of something +white by the gate and wondered if it was the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +“werwolf” or the old serving woman. But when +she called Henriette’s attention to the moving +object the French girl cried, under her breath: +</p> +<p> +“Oh! It is the countess! Look you, Mademoiselle +Ruth, perhaps she will speak to us.” +</p> +<p> +“But there’s something with her. It <em>is</em> a dog,” +the American girl declared. +</p> +<p> +“Why that is only Bubu, the old hound. He is +always with the countess when she walks out. He +is a greyhound—see you? It is foolish, Mademoiselle, +to connect Bubu with the werwolf,” and +she shrugged her plump shoulders. +</p> +<p> +Ruth paid more attention to the dog at first +than she did to the lady who held the loop of his +leash. He wore a dark blanket, which covered +most of his body, even to his ears. His legs were +long, of course, and Ruth discovered another thing +in a moment, while the car rolled nearer. +</p> +<p> +The thin legs of the slate-colored beast were +covered with mud. That mud was not yet dry. +The dog had been running at large within the +last few minutes, the girl was sure. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—RUTH DOES HER DUTY</h2> +<p> +The query that came sharply to Ruth Fielding’s +mind was: Without his blanket and off his +leash, what would Bubu, the greyhound, look like +in the gloaming? The next moment the tall old +lady walking by the observant dog’s side, raised +her hand and nodded to Henriette. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Madame!” gasped the French girl, and +brought the car to an instant stop. +</p> +<p> +“I thought it was my little Hetty,” the countess +said in French, and smiling. “Hast been to Lyse +for the good father?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Madame,” replied the girl. +</p> +<p> +“And what news do you bring?” +</p> +<p> +The voice of the old lady was very kind. +Ruth, watching her closely, thought that if the +Countess Marchand was a spy for Germany, and +was wicked at heart, she was a wonderfully good +actress. +</p> +<p> +She had a most graceful carriage. Her hair, +which was snow white, was dressed most becomingly. +Her cheeks were naturally pink; yet her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +throat and under her chin the skin was like old +ivory and much wrinkled. She was dressed +plainly, although the cape about her shoulders +was trimmed with expensive fur. +</p> +<p> +Henriette replied to her queries bashfully, +bobbing her head at every reply. She was much +impressed by the lady’s attention. Finally the +latter looked full at Ruth, and asked: +</p> +<p> +“Your friend is from the hospital, Hetty?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, Madame!” Henriette hastened to +say. “She is an <em>Americaine</em>. Of the Red Cross.” +</p> +<p> +“I could imagine her nativity,” said the countess, +bowing to Ruth, and with cordiality. “I +traveled much with the count—years ago. All +over America. I deem all Americans my +friends.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Madame,” replied Ruth gravely. +</p> +<p> +At the moment the stern-faced Bessie came +through the little postern gate. She approached +the countess and stood for a moment respectfully +waiting her mistress’ attention. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, here is the good Bessie,” said the countess, +and passed the serving woman the loop of +the dog’s leather leash. “Take him away, +Bessie. Naughty Bubu! Do you know, he should +be punished—and punished severely. He had +slipped his collar again. See his legs? You +must draw the collar up another hole, Bessie.” +</p> +<p> +The harsh voice of the old woman replied, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +Ruth could not understand what she said. The +dog was led away; but Ruth saw that Bessie +stared at her, Ruth, curiously—or was it threateningly? +</p> +<p> +The countess turned again to speak to the two +girls. “Old Bessie comes from America, Mademoiselle,” +she explained. “I brought her over +years ago. She has long served me.” +</p> +<p> +“She comes from Mexico, does she not?” Ruth +asked quietly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I see you have bright eyes—you are +observant,” said the countess. “Yes. Mexico +was Bessie’s birthplace, although she is not all +Spanish.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth thought to herself: “I could guarantee +that. She is part German. ‘Elizabeth’—yes, indeed! +And does this lady never suspect what her +serving woman may be?” +</p> +<p> +The countess dismissed them with another +kindly word and gesture. Henriette was very +much wrought up over the incident. +</p> +<p> +“She is a great lady,” she whispered to Ruth. +“Wait till I tell my father and mother how she +spoke to me. They will be delighted.” +</p> +<p> +“And this is a republic!” smiled Ruth. Even +mild toadyism did not much please this American +girl. “Still,” she thought, “we are inclined to +bow down and worship a less worthy aristocracy +at home—the aristocracy of wealth.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +</p> +<p> +Henriette ran her down to the town and to the +hospital gate. Ruth was more than tired—she +felt exhausted when she got out of the car. But +she saw the matron before retiring to her own +cell for a few hours’ sleep. +</p> +<p> +“We shall need you, Mademoiselle,” the +Frenchwoman said distractedly. “Oh! so many +poor men are here. They have been bringing +them in all day. There is a lull on the front, or +I do not know what we should do. The poor, +poor men!” +</p> +<p> +Ruth had to rest for a while, however, although +she did not sleep. Her mind was too painfully +active. +</p> +<p> +Her thoughts drummed continually upon two +subjects, the mystery regarding Tom Cameron—his +letter to her found in another man’s pocket. +Secondly, the complications of the plot in which +the woman in black, the two crooks from America, +and the occupants of the chateau seemed all entangled. +</p> +<p> +She hoped hourly to hear from Tom; but no +word came. She wished, indeed, that she might +even see Charlie Bragg again; but nobody seemed +to have seen him about the hospital of late. The +ambulance corps was shifted around so frequently +that there was no knowing where he could be +found, save at his headquarters up near the front. +And Ruth Fielding felt that she was quite as near +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +the front here at Clair as she ever wished to be! +</p> +<p> +She went on duty before midnight and remained +at work until after supper the next evening. +She had nothing to do with the severely +wounded, of course; but there was plenty to do +for those who had already been in the hospital +some time, and whom she knew. +</p> +<p> +Ruth could aid them in simple matters, could +read to them, write for them, quiet them if they +were nervous or suffering from shell-shock. She +tried to forget her personal anxieties in attending +to the poor fellows and aiding them to forget +their wounds, if for only a little while. +</p> +<p> +But she climbed to her cell at last, worn out as +she was by the long strain, with a determination +to communicate with the French police-head in +Lyse regarding the men who had robbed the Red +Cross supply department. +</p> +<p> +She wrote the letter with the deliberate intention +of laying all the mystery, as she saw it, before +the authorities. She would protect the +woman in black no longer. Nor did she ignore +the possibility of the Countess Marchand and her +old serving woman being in some way connected +with Legrand and José, the Mexican. +</p> +<p> +She lay bare the fact that the two men from +America had been in a plot to rob the Red Cross at +Robinsburg, and how they had accomplished their +ends with the connivance (as Ruth believed) of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +Rose Mantel. She spared none of the particulars +of this early incident. +</p> +<p> +She wrote that she had seen the man, José, in +his character of the lame Italian, both on the +steamship coming over, in Paris, and again here +at Clair talking with the Mexican servant of the +Countess Marchand. Legrand, too, she mentioned +as being in the neighborhood of Clair, now +dressed as a captain of infantry in the French +army. +</p> +<p> +She quite realized what she was doing in writing +all this. Legrand, for instance, risked death +as a spy in any case if he represented himself as +an officer. But Ruth felt that the matter was +serious. Something very bad was going on here, +she was positive. +</p> +<p> +The only thing she could not bring herself to +tell of was the suspicions she had regarding the +identity of the “werwolf,” as the superstitious +country people called the shadowy animal that +raced the fields and roads by night, going to and +coming from the battle front. +</p> +<p> +It seemed such a silly thing—to repeat such +gossip of the country side to the police authorities! +She could not bring herself to do it. If the +occupants of the chateau were suspected of being +disloyal, what Ruth had already written, connecting +José with Bessie, would be sufficient. +</p> +<p> +She wrote and despatched this letter at once. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +She knew it would be unopened by the local +censor because of the address upon it. Communications +to the police were privileged. +</p> +<p> +Ruth wondered much what the outcome of this +step would be. She shrank from being drawn +into a police investigation; but the matter had +gone so far now and was so serious that she could +not dodge her duty. +</p> +<p> +That very next day word was sent in to Ruth +from the guard at the entrance whom she had +tipped for that purpose, that the American ambulance +driver, Monsieur Bragg, was at the door. +</p> +<p> +When Ruth hastened to the court the <em>brancardiers</em> +had shuffled in with the last of Charlie’s +“load” and he was cranking up his car. The latter +looked as though it had been through No +Man’s Land, clear to the Boche “ditches” it was +so battered and mud-bespattered. Charlie himself +had a bandage around his head which looked +like an Afghan’s turban. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear boy! Are you hurt?” Ruth +gasped, running down the steps to him. +</p> +<p> +“No,” grunted the young ambulance driver. +“Got this as an order of merit. For special bravery +in the performance of duty,” and he grinned. +“Gosh! I can’t get hurt proper. I bumped my +head on a beam in the park—pretty near cracked +my skull, now I tell you! Say! How’s your +friend?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +</p> +<p> +“That is exactly what I don’t know,” Ruth +hastened to tell him. +</p> +<p> +“How’s that? Didn’t you go to Lyse?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. But the man in whose pocket that letter +to me was found isn’t Tom Cameron at all. It +was some one else!” +</p> +<p> +“What? You don’t mean it! Then how did +he come by that letter? I saw it taken out of the +poor chap’s pocket. Johnny Mall wrote the note +to you on the outside of it. I knew it was intended +for you, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“But the man isn’t Tom. I should say, Lieutenant +Thomas Cameron.” +</p> +<p> +“Seems to me I’ve heard of that fellow,” ruminated +the ambulance driver, removing his big +spectacles to wipe them. “But I believe he <em>is</em> +wounded. I’m sorry,” he added, as he saw the +change in Ruth’s face. “Maybe he isn’t, after +all. Is—is this chap a pretty close friend of +yours?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth told him, somewhat brokenly, in truth, +just how near and dear to her the Cameron twins +were. Telling more, perhaps, in the case of Tom, +than she intended. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll see what I can find out about him. He’s +been in this sector, I believe,” he said. “I guess +he has been at our headquarters up yonder and +I’ve met him. +</p> +<p> +“Well, so long,” he added, hopping into his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +car. “Next time I’m back this way maybe I’ll +have some news for you—<em>good</em> news.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I hope so!” murmured Ruth, watching +the battered ambulance wheel out of the hospital +court. +</p> +<p> +Henriette Dupay had an errand in the village +the next day and came to see Ruth, too. The +little French girl was very much excited. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear Mademoiselle Ruth!” she cried. +“What do you think?” +</p> +<p> +“I could not possibly think—for <em>you</em>,” smiled +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“It is so—just as I told you,” wailed the other +girl. “It always happens.” +</p> +<p> +“Do tell me what you mean? What has happened +now?” +</p> +<p> +“Something bad always follows the seeing of +the werwolf. My grandmère says it is a curse on +the neighborhood because many of our people +neglect the church. Think!” +</p> +<p> +“Do tell me,” begged the American girl. +</p> +<p> +“Our best cow died,” cried Henriette. “Our—ve-ry—best—cow! +It is an affliction, Mademoiselle.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth could well understand that to be so, for +cows, since the German invasion, have been very +scarce in this part of France. Henriette was +quite confident that the appearance of the “werwolf” +had foretold the demise of “the poor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +Lally.” The American girl saw that it was quite +useless to seek to change her little friend’s opinion +on that score. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, the thing we saw in the road could +not have been the countess’ dog?” she ventured. +</p> +<p> +But Henriette would have none of that. “Why, +Bubu’s blanket is black,” she cried. “And you +know the werwolf is all of a white color—and so +hu-u-uge!” +</p> +<p> +She would have nothing of the idea that Bubu +was the basis of the countryside superstition. But +the French girl had a second exciting bit of news. +</p> +<p> +“Think you!” she cried, “what I saw coming +over to town this ve-ry day, Mademoiselle +Ruth.” +</p> +<p> +“Another mystery?” +</p> +<p> +“Quite so. But yes. You would never, as you +say, ‘guess.’ I passed old Bessie, Madame la +Countess’ serving woman, riding fast, <em>fast</em> in a +motor-car. Is it not a wonder?” +</p> +<p> +The statement startled Ruth, but she hid her +emotion, asking: +</p> +<p> +“Not alone—surely? You do not mean that +that old woman drives the countess’ car?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, Mademoiselle. The countess has no +car. This was the strange car you and I saw on +the road that day—the one that was stalled in the +rut. You remember the tall capitaine—and the +little one?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +</p> +<p> +The shock of the French girl’s statement was +almost too much for Ruth’s self-control. Her +voice sounded husky in her own ears when she +asked: +</p> +<p> +“Tell me, Henriette! Are you <em>sure</em>? The old +woman was riding away with those two men?” +</p> +<p> +“But yes, Mademoiselle. And they drive fast, +fast!” and she pointed east, away from the hospital, +and away from the road which led to +Lyse. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—A PARTIAL EXPOSURE</h2> +<p> +It was when Ruth was going off duty for the +day that the matron sent for her to come to the +office before going to her own cell, as the tiny +immaculate little rooms were called in which the +Red Cross workers slept. +</p> +<p> +Obeying the summons, Ruth crossed the wide +entrance hall and saw in the court a high-powered, +open touring car in which sat two military-appearing +men, although neither was in uniform. +In the matron’s room was another—a tall, dark +young man, who arose from his chair the instant +the girl entered the room. +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur Lafrane, Mademoiselle Fielding,” +said the matron nervously. “Monsieur Lafrane +is connected, he tells me, with the Department of +Justice.” +</p> +<p> +“With the secret police, Mademoiselle,” the +man said significantly. “The prefect of police at +Lyse has sent me to you,” and he bowed again to +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +The matron was evidently somewhat alarmed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +as well as surprised, but Ruth’s calm manner reassured +her to some extent. +</p> +<p> +“It is all right, Madame,” the American girl +told her. “I expected monsieur’s visit.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, if mademoiselle is assured——?” +</p> +<p> +“Quite, Madame.” +</p> +<p> +The Frenchwoman hurried from the office and +left the girl and the secret agent alone. The latter +smiled quietly and asked Ruth to be seated. +</p> +<p> +“It is from Monsieur Joilette, at Lyse, that I +come, as I say. He informs me you have the +logic of a man—and a man’s courage, Mademoiselle. +He thinks highly of you.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps he thinks too highly of my courage,” +Ruth returned, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Not so,” proceeded Monsieur Lafrane, with +rather a stern countenance, “for it must take some +courage to tell but half your story when first you +went to Monsieur Joilette. It is not—er—exactly +safe to tell half truths to the French police, Mademoiselle.” +</p> +<p> +“Not if one is an American?” smiled Ruth, not +at all shaken. “Nor did I consider that I did +wrong in saying nothing about Mrs. Mantel at +the time, when I had nothing but suspicion against +her. If Monsieur Joilette is as wise as I think +him, he could easily have found the connection +between those two dishonest men from America +and the lady.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +</p> +<p> +“True. And he did so,” said the secret agent, +nodding emphatically. “But already Legrand and +this José had made what you Americans would +call ‘a killing,’ yes?” Ruth nodded, smiling. +“They got away with the money. But we are +not allowing Madame Mantel, as she calls herself——” +</p> +<p> +“That isn’t her name then?” +</p> +<p> +“Name of a name!” ejaculated the man in disgust. +“I should say not. She is Rosa Bonnet, +who married an American crook four years ago +and went to the United States. He was shot, I +understand, in an attempt of his gang to rob a +bank in one of your Western States.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! And she came East and entered into our +Red Cross work. How dreadful!” +</p> +<p> +“Rosa is a sharp woman. We believe she has +done work for <em>les Boches</em>. But then,” he added, +“we believe that of every crook we capture now.” +</p> +<p> +“And is she arrested?” +</p> +<p> +“But yes, Mademoiselle,” he said good-naturedly. +“At least the police of Lyse were about +to gather her in as I left this afternoon to come +over here. But the men——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Monsieur!” cried Ruth, with clasped +hands, “they have been in this neighborhood only +to-day.” +</p> +<p> +He shot in a quick: “How do you know that, +Mademoiselle Fielding?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +</p> +<p> +She told him of the French girl’s visit and of +what Henriette had said of seeing Legrand, the +Mexican and Bessie riding away in a motor-car +from the chateau. +</p> +<p> +“To be trusted, this girl? This Mademoiselle +Dupay?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, quite!” +</p> +<p> +“The scoundrels! They slip through our fingers +at every turn. But we will have them yet. +Surely they cannot escape us for long. There are +too many looking for them—both of the secret +police and of the army.” +</p> +<p> +“Then the woman, too! The old woman and +that José may only be related. Perhaps she has +nothing to do with—with——” +</p> +<p> +“With what, Mademoiselle?” he asked, smiling +across the table at her, and that grimly. +</p> +<p> +“Is there not spying, too? Don’t you think +these people are in communication with the Germans?” +</p> +<p> +“Could you expect me to answer that query, +Mademoiselle?” he returned, his eyes suddenly +twinkling. “But, yes! I see you are vitally interested. +And you have heard this old wives’ tale +of the werwolf.” +</p> +<p> +He quite startled her then, for she had said +nothing of that in her letter to the Lyse prefect +of police. +</p> +<p> +“Some matters must be cleared up. You may +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +be able to help, Mademoiselle. I have come to +ask you to make a call with me.” +</p> +<p> +“A call? On the Dupays? I hope I have said +nothing to lead you to suppose that they are not +loyal. And they have been kind to me.” +</p> +<p> +“Quite so, Mademoiselle,” he rejoined again +with gravity. “I would ask you to do nothing +that will make you feel an atom of disgrace. No, +no! A mere call—and you shall return here in +an hour.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth knew it was a command as well as a request. +She hurried for her wrap, for the evening +was damp. But she did not remove her costume +of the Red Cross. +</p> +<p> +As she came down to the waiting car she saw +that she was peered at by several of the nurses. +Some wind of what was going on evidently had +got about the hospital. +</p> +<p> +Ruth ran down the steps and jumped into the +car, the tonneau door of which was held open by +the man with whom she had talked in the matron’s +office. Instantly the engine began to purr and the +car slipped away from the steps. +</p> +<p> +Lafrane bowed to Ruth again, and said, with a +gesture, as though introducing her: +</p> +<p> +“My comrades, Mademoiselle Fielding. Be +of good courage. Like myself, Mademoiselle, +they admire the courage of <em>les Americaines</em>.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth could say nothing to that. She felt half +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +stifled with seething emotions. Her heart beat +rapidly. What was now going to happen to her? +She had endured many strange experiences since +coming to France; but she had to admit that she +was not prepared for this occurrence. +</p> +<p> +The car shot through the tortuous roads +swiftly. Suddenly she noted that they were taking +the hilly road to the Dupay farm—the longer +way. They mounted the hill toward the chateau +gate. +</p> +<p> +A light flashed ahead in the roadway. The car +was pulled down to a stop before the entrance to +the Chateau Marchand. Another soldierly looking +man—this one in uniform—held the lantern +and pointed to the gateway of the estate. To +Ruth’s surprise the wide gates were open. +</p> +<p> +The guard said something swiftly that the girl +did not catch. The chauffeur manipulated the +clutch and again the car leaped ahead. It turned +directly into the private drive leading up to the +chateau. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—Quite Satisfactory</h2> +<p> +Ruth said nothing to Monsieur Lafrane, although +she was startled. He had had no idea, +then, of taking her to the Dupay farm. She was +somewhat relieved by this discovery, although she +was curious as to why she was being carried to +the chateau. +</p> +<p> +It was plain that their visit was expected. The +great front door of the old pile of masonry was +wide open and a flaring, swinging lamp illuminated +the entrance hall, the light shining far +across the flagging before the door. As the girl +had noted, there seemed no fear here at the +chateau of German night raiders, while the village +of Clair lay like a black swamp below the +hill, not a lamp, even in the hospital, being allowed +to shine from windows or doorways there. +</p> +<p> +“Will you come in, Mademoiselle?” said the +leader of the expedition softly. +</p> +<p> +One of his companions got out, too, and him +they left in the entrance hall, standing grim and +silent against the wall like an added piece of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +ancient armor, of which there were several in +sight, while the secret agent and Ruth entered an +apartment on the right. +</p> +<p> +It was a library—a long and lofty room, paneled +with carved oak and furnished in a wood +quite as dark, the chairs and huge table being +massive. There were a few fine old pictures; but +the bookshelves were almost stripped of volumes. +Ruth noted that but a few dozen remained. +</p> +<p> +The floor, too, was bare; yet by the stain on +the boards she saw that once a huge rug must +have almost covered the room. Everything remaining +gave the apartment a stern and poverty-stricken +air. +</p> +<p> +These things she noted at first glance. The +countess was present, and it was the countess who +attracted Ruth’s almost immediate attention. +</p> +<p> +She was quite as handsome and graceful as she +had seemed when Ruth saw her walking in the +road. But now she was angry, and her head was +held high and her cheeks were deeply flushed. +Her scant skirts swishing in and out of the candlelight, +she walked up and down the room beyond +the table, with something of the litheness of the +caged tiger. +</p> +<p> +“And have you come back to repeat these +things you have said about Bessie?” she demanded +in French of the secret agent. +</p> +<p> +“But, yes, Madame la Countess. It is necessary that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +you be convinced,” he said respectfully. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot believe it. I resent your accusation +of poor Bessie. She has been with me for twenty +years.” +</p> +<p> +“It is so,” said the man gravely. “And we +cast no reflection upon her faithfulness to you, +Madame. But have you noted no change in her—of +late?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, who has not been changed by the war?” +murmured the countess, stopping to look at them +across the table. Then for the first time she +seemed to apprehend Ruth’s presence. She +bowed distantly. “Mademoiselle Americaine,” +she murmured. “What is this?” +</p> +<p> +“I would ask the mademoiselle to tell you what +she knows of the connection of your servant with +these men we are after,” said the secret agent +briefly. Then he gestured for Ruth to speak. +</p> +<p> +The latter understood now what she had been +brought here for. And she was shrewd enough +to see, too, that the French secret police thought +the countess entirely trustworthy. +</p> +<p> +Therefore Ruth began at the beginning and +told of her suspicions aroused against Legrand +and José when still she was in America, and of +all the events which linked them to some plot, +aimed against France, although she, of course, did +not know and was not likely to know what that +plot was. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +</p> +<p> +The men were proven crooks. They were in +disguise. And Ruth was positive that José was +closely associated with the old serving woman +whom Ruth had seen with the dog. +</p> +<p> +At mention of the greyhound the countess and +the secret agent exchanged glances. Ruth intercepted +them; but she made no comment. She saw +well enough that there was a secret in that which +she was not to know. +</p> +<p> +Nor did she ever expect to learn anything more +about that phase of the matter, being unblessed +with second sight. However, in our next volume, +“Ruth Fielding at the War Front; Or, The Hunt +for a Lost Soldier,” she was destined to gain much +information on several points connected with the +old chateau and its occupants. +</p> +<p> +Now, however, she merely told the countess +what the agent had asked her to tell, including the +fact that Bessie had been seen that afternoon riding +away from the chateau with the two criminals, +Legrand and José. +</p> +<p> +Her testimony seemed to convince the lady of +the chateau. She bowed her head and wiped +away the tears that moistened her now paling +cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Ma foi!</em> Who, then, is to be trusted?” she +murmured, when the girl had finished. “Your +pardon, Monsieur! But, remember, I have had +the poor creature in my service for many years. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +</p> +<p> +“I must accept all your story as true. The +American mademoiselle convinces me. This José, +then, must be Bessie’s nephew. I had heard of +him. I must thank her, perhaps, that she did not +allow him and his associate to rob me before she +ran away. The apaches!” +</p> +<p> +“We will get them,” said the agent cheerfully, +preparing to depart. “I leave men in the neighborhood. +They will communicate with you—and +you can trust them. If the woman reappears +alone we must question her. You understand?” +and he spoke with some sternness. +</p> +<p> +The countess nodded, having recovered her +self-control. “I know my duty, Monsieur,” she +said. Then to Ruth, putting forth her hand, she +added: +</p> +<p> +“You have called and find me in sore trouble, +my dear. Do I understand that you work in our +hospital at Clair?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Madame,” replied the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Come to see me again, then—at a happier +time.” She pressed Ruth’s hand for a moment +and went out. The secret service agent bowed +low as she disappeared. Then he said with admiration +to Ruth: +</p> +<p> +“<em>Ma foi!</em> A countess, say you? She should be +a queen.” Ah, this good republican was quite +plainly a lover of the aristocracy, too! +</p> +<p> +Ruth was whisked back to the hospital. On +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +the way Monsieur Lafrane assured her that she +would be gratefully remembered by the French +secret police for what seemed to her, after all, a +very simple thing. +</p> +<p> +The men were confident of soon apprehending +Legrand and his companions. “And then—the +jug!” ejaculated the leader, using with gusto what +he fondly believed to be another Americanism. +</p> +<p> +It was not likely that Ruth would sleep much +that night. Her mind was greatly overwrought. +But finally, about daylight, when she did fall into +a more or less refreshing sleep, an orderly came +to her door and knocked until she responded. +</p> +<p> +“Mademoiselle has waiting for her on the steps +a visitor,” he said, with a chuckle. “She should +come down at once.” +</p> +<p> +“A visitor, Henri?” she cried. “Who can it +be?” +</p> +<p> +“One young <em>Americaine</em>,” he replied, and went +away cheerfully humming a tune. +</p> +<p> +“What can that Charlie Bragg want at this +hour in the morning?” Ruth murmured, yet hurrying +her toilet. “Possibly he brings news of +Tom!” +</p> +<p> +Down she ran to the court as soon as she was +neat. A man was sitting on the steps, leaning +against the doorpost. It was not Charlie, for he +was in military uniform and she could see an +officer’s insignia. He was asleep. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +</p> +<p> +She saw as she left the stairway and crossed +the entrance hall that he wore his arm in a sling. +She thought instantly of the unknown American +in Lyse Hospital who had lost his forearm. +Then—— +</p> +<p> +“Tom Cameron!” she cried, and sprang to his +side. +</p> +<p> +The soldier awoke with a start. He looked up +at her and grinned. +</p> +<p> +“Hullo, Ruthie,” he observed. “Excuse this +early call, but I might not have another rest day +for a long time. We’re going into the trenches—going +to take over a sector of the French line, +they say, before long. So—— +</p> +<p> +“Hullo! What’s happened?” +</p> +<p> +“Your arm, Tom! You are wounded?” she +gasped. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, shucks! Got a splinter of shell in it. +Nothing much. Keeping it in splints so it will +mend quicker,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“But your letter, Tom!” she cried, and there, +in the early morning, standing upon the hospital +steps, she told him the story of the happening that +had so disturbed and troubled her. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t that beat all!” exclaimed Tom. “I +wondered what had happened to that letter that +I had just finished when I was called on duty. It +was Sam Hines who had his arm torn off—poor +fellow. We heard from him. He’s getting on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +all right, but, of course, he’ll have to go home. +</p> +<p> +“He must have picked up my letter, maybe to +give it to me, knowing I had forgotten it. Well, +it’s all right, Ruthie. I can tell you lots more +than was in that letter—and you’ve got a lot to +tell me.” +</p> +<p> +So they sat down, side by side, and related +each to the other all their adventures, while the +great guns on the battle line boomed a rumbling +accompaniment to what was said. +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p> </p> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> +<hr style='margin:20px auto; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:80%' /> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE RUTH FIELDING SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By ALICE B. EMERSON +</p> +<p> +<em>12 mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</em>. +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src='images/z215.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +Price 50 cents per volume. +</p> +<p> +Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to live with her miserly +uncle. Her adventures and travels make stories that will hold the +interest of every reader. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding is a character that will live in juvenile fiction. +</p> +<p> + 1. RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL<br /> + 2. RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL<br /> + 3. RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP<br /> + 4. RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT<br /> + 5. RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH<br /> + 6. RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND<br /> + 7. RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM<br /> + 8. RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES<br /> + 9. RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES<br /> + 10. RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE<br /> + 11. RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE<br /> + 12. RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE<br /> + 13. RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS<br /> + 14. RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT<br /> + 15. RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND<br /> + 16. RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST<br /> + 17. RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST<br /> + 18. RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE<br /> + 19. RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING<br /> + 20. RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH<br /> + 21. RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS<br /> + 22. RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA<br /> + 23. RUTH FIELDING IN HER GREAT SCENARIO<br /> + 24. RUTH FIELDING AT CAMERON HALL<br /> + 25. RUTH FIELDING CLEARING HER NAME<br /> + 26. RUTH FIELDING IN TALKING PICTURES<br /> + 27. RUTH FIELDING AND BABY JUNE<br /> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE BARTON BOOKS FOR GIRLS</span> +</p> +<p> +By MAY HOLLIS BARTON +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i005' id='i005'></a> +<img src='images/z216.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored Jacket. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +May Hollis Barton is a new writer for +girls who is bound to win instant popularity. +Her style is somewhat of a reminder of that +of Louisa M. Alcott, but thoroughly up-to-date +in plot and action. Clean tales that all +the girls will enjoy reading. +</p> +<p> + 1. THE GIRL FROM THE COUNTRY<br /> + 2. THREE GIRL CHUMS AT LAUREL HALL<br /> + 3. NELL GRAYSON’S RANCHING DAYS<br /> + 4. FOUR LITTLE WOMEN of ROXBY<br /> + 5. PLAIN JANE AND PRETTY BETTY<br /> + 6. LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE<br /> + 7. HAZEL HOOD’S STRANGE DISCOVERY<br /> + 8. TWO GIRLS AND A MYSTERY<br /> + 9. THE GIRLS OF LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND<br /> + 10. KATE MARTIN’S PROBLEM<br /> + 11. THE GIRL IN THE TOP FLAT<br /> + 12. THE SEARCH FOR PEGGY ANN<br /> + 13. SALLIE’S TEST OF SKILL<br /> + 14. CHARLOTTE CROSS AND AUNT DEB<br /> +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE BETTY GORDON SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By ALICE B. EMERSON +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i006' id='i006'></a> +<img src='images/z217.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +Author of the “Ruth Fielding Series” +</p> +<p> +12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +A new series of stories bound to make this writer more popular +than ever with her host of girl readers. Every one will want to +know Betty Gordon, and every one will be sure to love her. +</p> +<p> + 1. BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM<br /> + 2. BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON<br /> + 3. BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL<br /> + 4. BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL<br /> + 5. BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP<br /> + 6. BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK<br /> + 7. BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS<br /> + 8. BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH<br /> + 9. BETTY GORDON IN MEXICAN WILDS<br /> + 10. BETTY GORDON AND THE LOST PEARLS<br /> + 11. BETTY GORDON ON THE CAMPUS<br /> + 12. BETTY GORDON AND THE HALE TWINS<br /> + 13. BETTY GORDON AT MYSTERY FARM<br /> + 14. BETTY GORDON ON NO-TRAIL ISLAND<br /> +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE LINGER-NOTS SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By AGNES MILLER +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i007' id='i007'></a> +<img src='images/z218.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +12mo. Cloth Binding. Illustrated. +</p> +<p> +Jacket in full colors. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +This new series of girls’ books is in a new style of story +writing. The interest is in knowing the girls and seeing them +solve the problems that develop their character. Incidentally, a +great deal of historical information is imparted. +</p> +<p> +<b>1. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE MYSTERY HOUSE</b> +<em>or the Story of Nine Adventurous Girls</em> +</p> +<p> +How the Linger-Not girls met and formed their club, and how +they made their club serve a great purpose, introduces a new type +of girlhood. +</p> +<p> +<b>2. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE VALLEY FEUD</b> +<em>or the Great West Point Chain</em> +</p> +<p> +The Linger-Not girls had no thought of becoming mixed up with +feuds or mysteries, but their habit of being useful soon entangled +them in some surprising adventures. +</p> +<p> +<b>3. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THEIR GOLDEN QUEST</b> +<em>or The Log of the Ocean Monarch</em> +</p> +<p> +For a club of girls to become involved in a mystery leading back +into the times of the California gold-rush, and how the girls helped +one of their friends to come into her rightful name and inheritance. +</p> +<p> +<b>4. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE WHISPERING CHARM</b> +<em>or The Secret from Old Alaska</em> +</p> +<p> +Whether engrossed in thrilling adventures in the Far North or +occupied with quiet home duties, the Linger-Not girls could work +unitedly and solve a colorful mystery. +</p> +<p> +<b>5. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE SECRET MAZE</b> +<em>or The Treasure-Trove on Battlefield Hill</em> +</p> +<p> +The discovery of a thrilling treasure-trove at the end of the +maze where the Linger-Nots learn many useful facts and the real +secret of the hidden maze. +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE GIRL SCOUT SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By LILIAN GARIS +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i008' id='i008'></a> +<img src='images/z219.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +The highest ideals of girlhood as advocated by the foremost +organizations of America form the background for these stories +and while unobtrusive there is a message in every volume. +</p> +<p> +<b>1. THE GIRL SCOUT PIONEERS</b> +<em>or Winning the First B. C.</em> +</p> +<p> +A story of the True Tred Troop in a Pennsylvania town. Two +runaway girls, who want to see the city, are reclaimed through +troop influence. +</p> +<p> +<b>2. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT BELLAIRE</b> +<em>or Maid Mary’s Awakening</em> +</p> +<p> +The story of a timid little maid who is afraid to take part in +other girls’ activities, while working nobly alone for high ideals. +</p> +<p> +<b>3. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST</b> +<em>or the Wig Wag Rescue</em> +</p> +<p> +Luna Land, a little island by the sea, is wrapt in a mysterious +seclusion, and Kitty Scuttle, a grotesque figure, succeeds in keeping +all others at bay until the Girl Scouts come. +</p> +<p> +<b>4. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP COMALONG</b> +<em>or Peg of Tamarack Hills</em> +</p> +<p> +Their discovery of Peg, the mysterious rider, and the clearing +up of her remarkable adventures afford a vigorous plot. +</p> +<p> +<b>5. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT ROCKY LEDGE</b> +<em>or Nora’s Real Vacation</em> +</p> +<p> +Her dislike for the rugged life of Girl Scouts is eventually +changed to appreciation, when the rescue of little Lucia, a woodland +waif, becomes a problem for the girls to solve. +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE PATSY CARROLL SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By GRACE GORDON +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i009' id='i009'></a> +<img src='images/z220.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +12mo. Illustrated. +</p> +<p> +Beautiful cloth binding, and jacket in colors. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents. +</p> +<p> +Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +This fascinating series is permeated with the vibrant atmosphere +of the great outdoors. The vacations spent by Patsy Carroll and +her chums, the girl Wayfarers, in the north, east, south and west +of the wonderland of our country, comprise a succession of tales +unsurpassed in plot and action. +</p> +<p> +<b>PATSY CARROLL AT WILDERNESS LODGE</b> +</p> +<p> +Patsy Carroll succeeds in coaxing her father to lease one of the +luxurious camps at Lake Placid, for the summer. Established at +Wilderness Lodge, the Wayfarers, as they call themselves, find they +are the center of a mystery which revolves about a missing will. +How the girls solve the mystery makes a splendid story. +</p> +<p> +<b>PATSY CARROLL UNDER SOUTHERN SKIES</b> +</p> +<p> +Patsy Carroll and her three chums spend their Easter vacation +in an old mansion in Florida. An exciting mystery develops. It is +solved by a curious acrostic found by Patsy. This leads to very +exciting and satisfactory results, making a capital story. +</p> +<p> +<b>PATSY CARROLL IN THE GOLDEN WEST</b> +</p> +<p> +The Wayfarers journey to the dream city of the Movie World +in the Golden West, and there become a part of a famous film +drama. +</p> +<p> +<b>PATSY CARROLL IN OLD NEW ENGLAND</b> +</p> +<p> +Set in the background of the Tercentenary of the landing of the +Pilgrims, celebrated in the year 1920, the story of Patsy Carroll in +Old New England offers a correct word picture of this historical +event and into it is woven a fascinating tale of the adventures of +the Wayfarers. +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE JANE ALLEN COLLEGE SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By EDITH BANCROFT +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i010' id='i010'></a> +<img src='images/z221.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +12mo. Illustrated. +</p> +<p> +Beautiful cloth binding, and jacket in colors. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents. +</p> +<p> +Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +This series is a decided departure from the stories usually +written of life in the modern college for young women. They +contain a deep and fascinating theme, which has to do with the +inner struggle for growth. An authoritative account of the life +of the college girl as it is lived to-day. +</p> +<p> +<b>JANE ALLEN OF THE SUB TEAM</b> +</p> +<p> +When Jane Allen left her beautiful Western home in Montana, +sorely against her will, to go East, there to become a freshman +at Wellington College, she was sure that she could never learn to +endure the restrictions of college life. But she did. +</p> +<p> +<b>JANE ALLEN: RIGHT GUARD</b> +</p> +<p> +Jane Allen becomes a sophomore at Wellington College, but she +has to face a severe trial that requires all her courage and character. +The result is a triumph for being faithful to an ideal. +</p> +<p> +<b>JANE ALLEN: CENTER</b> +</p> +<p> +Lovable Jane Allen as Junior experiences delightful days of +work and play. Jane, and her chum, Judith, win leadership in +class office, social and athletic circles of Sophs and Juniors. +</p> +<p> +<b>JANE ALLEN: JUNIOR</b> +</p> +<p> +Jane Allen’s college experiences, as continued in “Jane Allen, +Junior,” afford the chance for a brilliant story. There is a rude, +country girl, who forced her way into Wellington under false pretenses. +An exchange of identity gives the plot unusual originality. +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>PEGGY LEE SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By ANNA ANDREWS +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i011' id='i011'></a> +<img src='images/z222.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +12mo. Illustrated. Jackets in full colors. +</p> +<p> +Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional. +</p> +<p> +A charming series of stories of a young American girl, Peggy +Lee, living with her family (including many unusual pets) on a +large coffee plantation in Central America, and her many adventures +there and in New York. +</p> +<p> +The action is rapid, full of fun, and takes the reader not only +to many interesting places in Central America, but in the country +as well, where Peggy attends a school for girls. The incidents are +cleverly brought out, and Peggy in her wistful way, proves in her +many adventures to be a brave girl and an endearing heroine to +her friends and readers. +</p> +<p> + 1. PEGGY AND MICHAEL OF THE COFFEE PLANTATION<br /> + 2. PEGGY LEE OF THE GOLDEN THISTLE PLANTATION<br /> + 3. PEGGY LEE AND THE MYSTERIOUS ISLANDS<br /> +</p> +<p> +(Other Volumes in Preparation) +</p> +<p> +<em>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</em> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <em>Publishers</em> NEW YORK +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Ruth Fielding In the Red Cross, by Alice B. 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