t was all black before Ruth's
eyes, and she stumbled more than once. Her knees felt weak.

"I--I _am_ scared, Charlie," she confessed, almost in a whisper.

"Yep. So was I, at first. But you know a fellow can't give in to it.
If he does he'll never get to be a first-class ambulance driver. I bet
some of the boys will be here at Mother Gervaise's and I can get help."

Another moment, and they seemed to turn a corner in the road and Ruth
saw a small patch of light at the left of the roadway. She made it out
to be an open window--the swinging shutter flung back against the wall.
There was no glass in the opening.

"There it is," Charlie said. "You might have passed it right by,
alone. You see, the house is close up against the high bank, and the
hill is between us and the front. The Boches can't drop a shell here.
It's a regular wayfarer's rest. There's a car--and another. We'll be
all right now."

Ruth saw the outlines of the two cars parked beside the road. The
young fellow led her directly toward the patch of yellow lamplight.
She saw finally a broad, thatched cottage, the eaves of the high-peaked
roof almost within reach as they came to the door.

Charlie Bragg knocked, then, without waiting for a summons to enter,
lifted the wooden latch and shoved the sagging door open.

"Hello, folks!" he said. "Got shelter for a couple of babes in the
woods? I got stalled down there at the Devil's Corner, and---- Let me
introduce Miss Fielding. She's real folks like ourselves."

He had pushed Ruth in and entered behind her. Two young men--plainly
Americans--rose from the table where they were eating. A squarely
built woman bent over the fire at the end of the room. She did not
look around from her culinary task.

"Hello, Bragg!" was the response from the other ambulance drivers.

"Cub Holdness and Mr. Francis Dwyer," said Charlie, introducing the
two. "I've got stalled, fellows."

He swiftly told of the accident and the two young men left the table.
The Frenchwoman turned and waddled toward the table, stirring spoon in
hand and volubly objecting.

"_Non, non_!" she cried. "You would spoil the so-good ragout. If you
do not eat it while it is hot----"

"The ragout can be heated over," put in Charlie. "But if the Boches
get my car with a shell--good-night! Come on, fellows. And bring a
rope. I believe we three can pull the old girl out."

The boys tramped out of the cottage. Mother Gervaise tu