Ruth Fielding at the War Front Part 25

Tremp slid the plank back, and they filed out into the trench after he had looked both ways to make sure that the coast was clear. Ruth wondered what would happen to them if they were caught by an American patrol? Perhaps be apprehended for the spies they were--only the Americans would think them spying for the Huns!

The major's hands were full. Before the candle had been put out Ruth had seen him pick up two gas-masks, and he carried these as they stumbled along the duckboards toward the next cross trench.

"Halt!"

A sibilant whisper. Sergeant Tremp muttered something in reply. The trio turned the corner and immediately it seemed they were at the back of the firing shelf where--every so far apart--the figures of riflemen stood waiting for any possible German attack. The men in the trenches at night are ever on the alert.

n.o.body molested the girl and her companions. Indeed, it was too dark to see much in the trench. But the sergeant seemed to know his way about perfectly.

Little wonder in that. The French had dug these trenches and Sergeant Tremp knew them as he did the paths in the environs of his native village.

At a dark corner he clucked with his tongue and brought them to a halt.

"This is it, Major," he whispered, after peering about.

"Good!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the officer softly. "Let me step ahead, Mademoiselle. Cling to my belt behind. Try to walk in my footsteps."

"Yes," she breathed.

Tremp seemed to melt into the darkness. Major Marchand turned at an abrupt angle and Ruth followed him as he had desired. She knew they were pa.s.sing through a very narrow pa.s.sage. The earth was sc.r.a.ped from the walls by their elbows and rattled down upon their feet.

The pa.s.sage rose slightly. The bottom of the trench they had just left--the very front line--was all of thirty feet in depth at this point. This narrow tunnel was thrust out into No Man's Land and led to a listening post.

At least, so she supposed, and she was not mistaken. Nor was she mistaken in her supposition that Tremp was no longer with them. He was not prepared to cross the Savoie mora.s.s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly Ruth seized her companion's arm.

"There!" she whispered.

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

"There are men. See them?"

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

"Oh!" she breathed with relief.

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

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

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

"That was most unexpected, was it not, Mademoiselle? But have no fear.

The first patrol has already been across here to the German wire entanglements to-night, and found nothing stirring. It is not yet that we shall run into Germans."

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

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

Now, over this way. On hands and knees, Mademoiselle."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Can you go on again?"

"At once," she declared with confidence.

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