r they saw her give the password at the gate and the
sentry allow her to pass out.

Before her lay a stretch of sparsely settled country divided by a wide
and much traveled road. Several miles further along a wide river crossed
the land, but near at hand there were only small farms and meagre clumps
of pine woods.

After a few more words of disapproval, Barbara Meade shrugged her
shoulders, and then she and Mildred re-entered the small curved doorway
of the Russian fort. The left wing was being used as a hospital for the
wounded, while the rest of the great fortification was crowded with
officers and soldiers.

These men were being held in reserve to await the threatened invasion of
the oncoming German hosts. Warsaw had fallen and one by one the ancient
Russian fortifications once deemed invincible had given way before the
German guns. But here at Grovno, under the command of the great General
Alexis, the Russians were to make a final stand.

However, without thinking of anything save personal matters, Nona Davis
first set out along the main traveled road. Now and then she was
compelled to step aside to let a great ox cart go past; these carts
were filled with provisions being brought into the fort. Occasionally a
covered car rattled past loaded with munitions of war, or a heavy piece
of artillery drawn on low trucks. But one would like to have seen a far
greater quantity of supplies of all kinds being brought to the old
fortress. It was an open secret that the supply of munitions was not
what it should be, and yet Grovno was expected to withstand all attacks.

But the young American girl was not reflecting upon the uncertainties of
war during her walk. Neither did she feel any nervousness because of the
newness of her surroundings, for the country in the rear of the
fortifications was chiefly inhabited by Russian women and children and a
few old men.

Nona walked on quickly and with a speed and careless grace that covered
the ground without apparent effort.

She was looking extremely well, but above all other things Nona Davis
appeared supremely interested. For some reason, still unknown to her,
she had been more stirred and excited by the coming into Russia than any
country she had yet seen. She both admired and feared the Russian
people, with their curious combination of poetry and stupidity, of
dullness and passion. Before returning to her own land she meant to try
and understand them better. For somewhere s