Ruth Fielding at the War Front | Page 7

dropped a Jack Johnson right on that end of the hospital. Two orderlies
hurt and the girl who ran the supply room killed. They want somebody
to come right up there and arrange a new room and new stock."
"Oh! you won't go, Mademoiselle Ruth?" shrieked Henriette.

"It would be extremely dangerous," Major Marchand said. "Another
shell might drop in the same place."
"Oh, we settled that battery. They tell me it's torn all to pieces. When
our doughboys heard the Red Cross girl was killed they were wild. The
gunners smashed the German position to smithereens. But it was awful
for her, poor thing.
"The station needs supplies dreadfully, just the same," added Charlie
Bragg. "And somebody who knows about 'em. I told the médicin-chef
I'd speak to you myself, Miss Ruth----"
"I'll go with you. They can get along at Clair without me for a few days,
I am sure."
"Good," returned Charlie, and moved over a little to make room on the
seat for her. Major Marchand said:
"There must be something big going on over there. Is it a general
advance, Monsieur?"
Ruth flashed him a look and laid her fingers gently on Charlie Bragg's
arm. The ambulance driver was by no means dull.
"I can't say what is on foot," he said to the French officer. "I should
think you might know more about it than I do," he added.
His engine began to rattle the somewhat infirm car. Charlie winked
openly at Henriette, who laughed at him. The car began to move. Major
Marchand stood beside the road and bowed profoundly again to
Ruth--that bow from the hips. It was German, that bow; it proved that
his military education had not been wholly gained in France.
She could not help doubting the loyalty of Major Henri Marchand as
well as that of his older brother, the present count. Their mother might
be the loveliest lady in the world, but there was something wrong with
her sons.

Here the younger one was idling away his time about the chateau, or in
Paris, so it was said, while the count had suddenly disappeared and was
not to be found at all! Neither had been engaged in any dangerous work
on the battle front. It was all very strange.
The bouncing ambulance was swiftly out of sight of the chateau gate.
Ruth sighed.
"Say! isn't there anybody at all who can go with those supplies they're
in need of but you, Miss Ruth?" inquired Charlie Bragg, looking
sideways at her.
"No. I am alone at Clair, you know quite well, Charlie. The supplies are
entirely under my care. I can teach somebody else over there at the
bombed hospital in a short time how to handle the things. Meanwhile,
the matron--or somebody else--can do my work here. It would not do to
send a greenhorn to such a busy hospital as this must be to which you
are taking me."
"Busy! You said it!" observed the driver. "You'll see a lot of rough stuff,
Miss Ruth; and you haven't been used to that. What'll Tom Cameron
say?" and he grinned suddenly.
Ruth laughed a little. "Every tub must stand on its own bottom, Aunt
Alvirah says. I must do my duty."
"It'll be a mighty dangerous trip. I'm not fooling you. There are places
on the road---- Well! the Boches are all stirred up and they are likely to
drop a shell or two almost anywhere, you know."
"You came through it, didn't you?" she demanded pluckily.
"By the skin of my teeth," he returned.
"You're trying to scare me."
"Honest to goodness I'm not. They sent me over for the supplies and
somebody to attend to them."

"Well?" she said inquiringly, as Charlie ceased to speak.
"But I didn't think you'd have to make the trip. Isn't there anybody else,
Miss Ruth?" and the young fellow was quite earnest now.
"Nobody," she said firmly. "No use telling me anything more, Charlie.
For the very reason the trip is dangerous, you wouldn't want me to put
it off on somebody else, would you?"
He said no more. The car rattled down into the little town, with its
crooked, paved streets and its countless smells. Clair was the center of
a farming community, and, in some cases, the human inhabitants and
the dumb beasts lived very close together.
The hospital sprawled over considerable ground. It was but two stories
in height, save at the back, where a third story was run up for the
"cells" of the nurses and the other women engaged in the work. Ruth
ran up at once to her own tiny room to pack her handbag before she did
anything else.
The matron met her at the supply-room door when she came down. She
was a voluble,