or 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.

Nobody 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!" ejaculated 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 passing through a very narrow passage. The earth was scraped from
the walls by their elbows and rattled down upon their feet.

The passage 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 morass.

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