ppen in Belgium, but because my blood was hot
with pride of my country, and I wanted to be there to see the spirit of
the people rise. There was little time to think, however, for Liege was
seething with excitement. Fugitives began to pour into the town, with
children and bundles in queer little carts drawn by dogs. Soldiers bade
their families good-bye in the streets, and marched or rode off in
clouds of dust. Wounded men were brought from the frontier, and an annex
of our old-fashioned, dormer-windowed hotel was hastily turned into a
hospital. Red Cross nurses appeared from somewhere, and several women
among the penned-up tourists volunteered to help. Mrs. Dalziel could do
nothing, because she had collapsed with fear, and was sure that she was
in for nervous prostration. Milly had her mother to care for; but I was
free, and thanks to my work in Ballyconal, I knew something about first
aid. Ever since I met Eagle and he had given me the old cadet chevron,
which I carried with me everywhere, I had grown more and more keen on
learning to do what I could for others, and war talk in Texas had
prompted me to buy books on nursing.

I mentioned this as a personal recommendation; the real nurses smiled.
But they accepted my services as a probationer, strong and willing, and
glad to do what she was told, even to scrub floors with disinfectant
fluid.

"You'll spoil you hands," said Milly.

I laughed.

Almost at once after this began the bombardment of the forts at Liege;
and all day long and most of the night we were deafened with the boom of
great guns across the river. It was a relief to be allowed to watch
through the dark hours beside soldiers whose wounds were not serious
enough to need expert care that I could not give. Even if I had been in
bed I should not have slept. I felt as if my brain were part of the
battlefield where armies marched and fought. My heartbeats were the
drums. We grew used to the firing of cannon. It seemed a part of
everyday life. It was hard to remember after the first that each "boom!"
meant lives ended in violence. Perhaps if we had remembered we should
have gone mad.

Suddenly, on the third day, just at dawn, came a new sound, a great
whirring like a thousand racing automobiles, and then two loud
explosions, one after the other, different from the roar of cannon or
the shots from the field guns that night at El Paso. The whole building
shook as if it must fall, and wounded men who had slept