ss will not save you."

"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the girl. "Is everybody suspected of spying?
I think it has become a craze."

"We do not know whom to suspect," he said. "Our closest friends may be
enemies. We cannot tell."

"But, Doctor Monteith, who are in this district save our soldiers and
the French inhabitants?" asked Ruth.

"True. But there may be a traitor among us. Indeed, it is believed
that there has been," and Ruth winced and looked away from him. "As
for our allies here--well, all of them may not be above earning German
gold. And they would think it was not as though they were betraying
their own countrymen. There are only United States soldiers in this
sector now, as you say, Miss Fielding."

"I cannot imagine people being so wicked," sighed the girl.

"No matter how it is done, or who does it, the enemy is getting
information about our troops and condition, as the last two attacks
have proved. So take care where you go, Miss Fielding, and what you
do," he added earnestly.

She promised, and went away with her pass. It was late afternoon and
her duties were over for the day. She would not be needed at the
supply hut until morning. And, indeed, the girl she was breaking in
was already mastering the details of the work. Ruth could soon go back
to her own work at Clair.

She walked nimbly out of the compound gate, making sure that she was
following a road that led away from the front. Nobody halted her.
Indeed, she was soon passing through a little valley that seemed as
peaceful and quiet as though there was no such thing as war in the
world.

The path she followed was plainly but a farm track. It wound between
narrow fields that had not been plowed the season before--not even by
cannon-shot. Somehow the big shells had flown over this little valley.

The sun was setting, and the strip of western sky above the hills was
tinged with his golden glories. Already pale twilight lay in the
valley. But in this latitude the twilight would long remain. She did
not hasten her steps, nor did she soon turn back toward the field
hospital.

She saw a cottage half hidden behind a hedge of evergreens. It stood
in a small square of muddy garden. There was a figure at work in this
patch--the tall, stoop-shouldered figure of a man. He was digging
parsnips that had been left out for the frost to sweeten.

He used the mattock slowly and methodically. With the cottage as a
background, and the