re grateful for the added light. Yet the scene they next
witnessed was lighted by many camp fires.

The Russian infantry, who had been first to begin the retreat from
Grovno, had camped on this side the river for a few hours rest.

A confused murmur of sounds arose. In little knots before the fires men
squatted on their knees in Oriental fashion, waiting for the copper pots
to boil. For at all hours of the day and night the Russian drinks tea,
now more than ever, since by command of the Czar the soldier is
forbidden to touch alcohol.

The girls could observe that the men had curiously unlike faces. It was
difficult to understand how they could all be Russians. Never before had
they seen so many of the soldiers at one time. Some of them had flat
faces and high cheek bones, with eyes like the Chinese.

It was very strange! Yet Nona whispered that they must remember some of
these Russian soldiers had come from Asia, from beyond the Caspian Sea.
Perhaps their ancestors had been members of the great Mongolian horde
that had once invaded Europe under Genghis Khan.

In their interest Nona and Barbara began discussing the possible history
of these soldiers aloud. By and by, one of the wounded men, who chanced
to be a Russian university graduate, smiled to himself over the interest
and excitement of the two American nurses. He had been suffering
intensely from the jolting and was glad for anything that would distract
his mind from his suffering.

"The soldiers you are discussing are called 'Turcomen,'" he remarked
aloud.

Nona and Barbara were startled by the voice out of the darkness, but
they murmured confused thanks.

"Perhaps we had best not discuss our surroundings so openly," Nona
suggested, and Barbara agreed with a silent motion of her head.

By this time they had reached the central bridge. It was built of steel
and stretched like a long line of silver across the dark river.

Over the bridge, like enormous over-burdened ants, the American girls
could see other ambulance wagons moving slowly on. For the horses had
become weary of their heavy loads and yet were to have no rest of any
length until daylight.

On the farther side of the river there were other small encampments. But
by and by Barbara Meade fell asleep with her head pressed against Nona's
shoulder.

Occasionally Nona drowsed, but not often. She was torn between two
worries. What would become of Mildred Thornton, left behind with
strangers in a b