Produced by Al Haines
"HALT!" WAS THE SUDDEN COMMAND.]
Ruth Fielding
At the War Front
OR
THE HUNT FOR
THE LOST SOLDIER
BY
ALICE B. EMERSON
AUTHOR OF "RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL," "RUTH FIELDING IN THESADDLE," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1918, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. TO GET ACQUAINTED II. AT THE CHATEAU III. A PERILOUS PROJECT IV. UNDER FIRE V. MOTHER GERVAISE VI. THE MYSTERY VII. WHERE IS TOM CAMERON? VIII. THE CHOCOLATE PEDDLER IX. COT 24--HUT H X. DEVOURING SUSPICION XI. THE FLYING MAN XII. AUNT ABELARD XIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING XIV. MORE SACRIFICES THAN ONE XV. BUBU XVI. THE HOLLOW TOOTH XVII. THE WORST IS TOLD XVIII. BEARING THE BURDEN XIX. ADVENTURE XX. ON THE RAW EDGE OF NO MAN'S LAND XXI. A NIGHT TO BE REMEMBERED XXII. THROUGH THE GERMAN LINES XXIII. THE GARDENER'S COT XXIV. CAPT. VON BRENNER'S SISTER XXV. BACK AGAIN
RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT
CHAPTER I
TO GET ACQUAINTED
It was a midwinter day, yet the air was balmy. The trees werebare-limbed but with a haze clothing them in the distance that seemedalmost that of returning verdure. The grass, even in mid-winter,showed green. A bird sang lustily in the hedge.
Up the grassy lane walked a girl in the costume of the active Red Crossworker--an intelligent looking girl with a face that, although perhapsnot perfect in form, was possessed of an expression that was alluring.
Neither observant man nor woman would have passed her, even in a crowd,without a second glance. There was a cheerful light in her eye and ahumorous curve to her not too-full lips that promised an upliftingspirit within her even in serious mood.
It seemed as though this day--and its apparent peace--must breedhappiness, although it was but a respite in the middle of winter. Thebalmy air, the chirrup of the bird, the far-flung reaches of the valleywhich she could see from this mounting lane, all delighted the sensesand soothed the spirit.
Suddenly, with an unexpectedness that was shocking, there was a tremorin the air and the echo of a rumbling sound beneath the girl's feet.The crack of a distant explosion followed. Then another, and another,until the sound became a continual grumble of angry explosions,resonant and threatening.
The girl did not stop, but the expression of her face lost itscheerfulness. The song of the bird was cut off sharply. It seemed asthough the sun itself began drawing a veil over his face. The peacefulmood of nature was shattered.
The girl kept on her way, but she no longer stepped lightly andspringily. Those muttering guns had brought a somber cloak for herfeelings--to her very soul.
Somewhere a motor began to hum. The sound came nearer with greatrapidity. It was a powerful engine. It was several seconds before thegirl looked up instead of along the road in search of the seat of thiswhirring sound.
There shot into view overhead, and flying low, an aeroplane that lookedlike a huge flying insect--an enormous armored grasshopper. Only itshead was somewhat pointed and there, fixed in the front, was the uglymuzzle of a machine gun. The airplane flew so low that she could seethe details.
There were two masked men in it, one at the wheel, the other at themachine gun. The aeroplane swooped just above her head, descendingalmost to the treetops, the roaring of it deafening the girl in the RedCross uniform. There was the red, white and blue shield of the UnitedStates painted upon the underside of the car.
Then it was gone, mounting higher and higher, until, as she stood towatch it, it became a painted speck against the sky. That is the lureof the flying machine. The wonder of it--and the terror--attracts theeye and shakes the spirit of the beholder.
With a sigh the girl went on up the lane, mounting the hill steadily,on the apex of which, among giant forest trees, loomed the turrets andtowers of a large chateau.
Again the buzzing of a motor broke the near-by stillness, while thegreat guns boomed in the distance. The sudden activity on the frontmust portend some important movement, or why should so many flyingmachines be drawn toward this sector?
But in a minute she realized that this was not an aeroplane she heard.Debouching into sight from the fringing thickets came a powerful motorcar, its forefront armored. She could barely see the head andshoulders of the man behind the steering wheel.
Down the hill plunged the car, and the girl quickly stepped to the sideof the lane and waited for it to pass. The roar of its muffler wasdeafening. In a moment she saw that the tonneau of the gray car wasfilled with uniformed men.
They were officers in khaki, the insignia of their several gradesscarcely distinguishable against the dull color of their clothing. Howdifferent from the gay uniforms of the French Army Corps, which, untilof late, the girl of the Red Cross had been used to seeing in thislocality.
Their faces were different, too. Gray, lean, hard-bitten faces, theireyebrows so light and sparse that it seemed their eyes were hard stoneswhich never seemed to shift their straight-ahead gaze. Yet each man inthe tonneau and the orderly beside the driver on the front seat salutedthe Red Cross girl as she stood by the laneside.
In another half-minute the car had turned at the bottom of the hill andwas out of sight.
She sighed again as she plodded on. Now, indeed, was the spring gonefrom her limbs and her expression was weary with a sadness that,although not personal, was heavy upon her.
Her thought was with the aeroplane and the motor car and with thethundering guns at the battle front, not many miles away. Yet shehastened her steps up this grassy lane toward the chateau, in quite theopposite direction.
The sudden stir of the military life of this sector portended somethingunusual. An advance of the enemy or an attempt to make a drive uponthe Allies' works. In any case, down in the little, low-lying townbehind her, there might be increased need of hospital workers. Shemust, before long, be once more at the hospital to meet the firstambulances rolling in from the field hospitals or from the dressingstations at the very front.
She reached the summit of the ridge, over which the lane passed to thevalley on the west side of the hill. The high arch of the gateway ofthe chateau was in sight.
Coming from that direction, walking easily, yet quickly, was the leanmilitary figure of a young man who switched the roadside weed stalkswith a light cane. He looked up quickly as the girl approached, andhis rather somber face lighted as though the sight of her gave himpleasure.
Yet his gaze was respectful. He was handsome, keenly intelligentlooking and not typically French, although he was dressed in theuniform of a branch of the French service, wearing a major's chevrons.As the Red Cross girl came nearer, he put his heels together smartly,removed his kepi, and bowed stiffly from the waist. It was not aFrenchman's bow.
The girl responded with a quiet bend of her head, but she passed him bywithout giving him any chance to speak. He followed her only with hiseyes--and that but for a moment; then he went on down the lane, hisstride growing momentarily longer until he passed from view.
A cry from the direction of the broad gateway ahead next aroused theattention of the girl in the Red Cross uniform. She looked up to seeanother girl running to meet her.
This was a short, rather plump French girl, whose eyes shone withexcitement, and
who ran with hands outstretched to meet those of theRed Cross girl. The latter was some years the older.
"Oh, Mademoiselle Ruth! Mademoiselle Ruth Fielding!" cried the Frenchgirl eagerly. "Did you meet him? Ah-h!"
Ruth Fielding laughed as she watched the mobile face of her friend.The latter's cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes rolled. Shewas all aquiver with the emotion that possessed her.
"Did you see him?" she repeated, as their hands met and Ruth stooped topress her lips to the full ones of her friend.
"Did I see whom, you funny Henriette?" asked Ruth.
"Am I fon-nay?" demanded Henriette Dupay, in an English which sheevidently struggled to make clear. "Then am I not nice?"
"You are both funny and nice," declared Ruth Fielding, hugging thegirl's plump body close to her own, as they walked on slowly to thechateau gate. "Tell me. Who was I supposed to see? A motor full ofofficers passed me, and an aeroplane over my head----"
"Oh, non! non!" cried Henriette. Then, in awe: "Major Marchand."
"Oh! Is that Major Marchand?"
"But yes, Mademoiselle Ruth. Ah-h! Such a man--such a figure! He isMadame the Countess' younger son."
"So I understand," Ruth said. "He is safely engaged in Paris, is henot?" and her tone implied much.
"Ye-es. So it is said. He--he must be a ve-ry important man,Mademoiselle, or his duty would not keep him there."
"Unless the Boches succeed in raiding Paris from the air he is notlikely to get hurt at all--this Major Marchand?"
"Oh!" pouted Henriette. "You are so critical. But he is--what yousay?--so-o beautiful!"
"Not in my eyes," said Ruth grimly. "I don't like dolly soldiers."
"Oh, Mademoiselle Ruth!" murmured the French girl. "Do not let Madamethe Countess suspect your feelings toward her younger son. He is allshe has now, you know."
"Indeed? Has the older son fallen in battle?"
"The young count has disappeared," whispered Henriette, her lips closeto Ruth's ear. "We heard of it only lately. But it seems hedisappeared some months ago. Nobody knows what has become of him."
"He, at least, was on the battle front?" asked the American girl. "Heis missing? Probably a prisoner of the Germans?"
"No-o. He was not at the front," confessed the other girl. "He, too,was engaged in Paris, it is understood. But hush! We are at the gate.I will ring. Don't, Mademoiselle Ruth, let the dear countess suspectthat you do not highly approve of her remaining son."
The Red Cross girl smiled rather grimly, but she gave the promise.