CHAPTER XXIII
THE GARDENER'S COT
Ruth Fielding thought afterward that Major Marchand must possess theeyes of a cat. And his sense of locality was as highly developed asthat of a feline as well.
In the midst of the wood into which they had come out from the Germantrenches he discovered a path leading to a tiny hut, which seemedentirely surrounded by thick brush.
He left her waiting for a moment while he ventured within. Then hecame to the door and touched Ruth's sleeve.
"I can never know who is waiting for me here," he whispered.
"Your brother?"
"No, no! Some day they will suspect--these Boches--and they will findmy little lodge. You know, Fraulein, the pitcher that too often goesto the well is at last broken."
She understood his meaning. At last he would be caught. It was thefate of most spies.
He lit a smoky lamp; but it gave light enough for her to see that thehut was all but empty. It must have been a swineherd's cot at apre-war date. There was a table, a sawed-off log for a chair, acupboard hanging against the wall, and a heap of straw in a corner fora bed.
This he pushed aside until he revealed beneath it a box like a coffin,buried in the dirt floor. Its cover was hinged.
From this hidden receptacle he drew forth the complete uniform of aUhlan lieutenant. "Turn your back for a little, Fraulein," he saidsoftly. "I must make a small change in my toilet."
He removed the muddy rubber suit and the helmet. Likewise, the smock,and baggy trousers, like those worn by Nicko the chocolate peddler. Ina trice he clothed himself from top to toe as a Uhlan full lieutenant.He stood before the small glass tacked in the corner and twirled andstiffened his mustache with pomatum. When he turned and strode beforeRuth again he was the typical haughty martinet who demanded of the rankand file the goose-step and "right face salute" of the German army.
"For your protection, Fraulein," he said, stooping at the box again,"we must make a subaltern of you."
"Oh! I could never look like a boy," Ruth objected, shrinking as shesaw the second uniform brought to light.
"For your protection," he said again. "A girl like you, Fraulein,would not have the chance of a rabbit among these Huns. They are notFrench," he added dryly. "I will step outside. Make haste, please."
He practically commanded her to don the uniform he laid out.
Ruth let fall the heavy rubber garment she had worn through the swamp.Then she removed her outer clothing and got into the uniform and intothe long, polished boots quickly. There was even the swagger cane thatyoung Prussian officers carry.
She viewed herself as well as she could in the piece of mirror in thecorner. She might have the appearance of a "stage" soldier; but nobodywould ever, for a moment, take her for a man!
She strode up and down the hut for several moments, trying to tune hergait to her new character--no easy matter. Finally she went to thedoor. The lamplight showed her figure boldly in the frame of thedoorway. She saw the waiting major start, and he muttered somethingunder his breath.
"Am I not all right?" she asked with some trepidation.
For once Major Marchand forgot himself.
He bowed his stiff, military bow with a gesture as though he would kissher finger tips.
"Assuredly, Mademoiselle!"
She drew back for him to enter the hut again. He withdrew from the boxunder the straw a long, military cloak, which he fastened upon Ruth'sshoulders.
"It will cover the figure, Fraulein. And now, a bit of camouflage."
From his pocket he drew a leather roll, which, when opened, proved tocontain shaving materials and certain toilet requisites. With acamel's hair brush dipped in grease paint he darkened her lip and hercheekbones just before her ears--as though the down of immature manhoodwere sprouting. She again looked at herself in the glass.
"I _am_ a boy now!" she cried.
Major Marchand chuckled as he tumbled the rubber suits and all theother articles into the box, shut the cover and covered it with thestraw. He looked carefully about the hut before they departed to makesure that no signs of their occupancy of it were left. He even rubbedout faint imprints of Ruth's slippers upon the damp earthen floor ofthe hut.
Putting out the smoky lamp, they left the place. The Frenchman seemedto know the vicinity perfectly. They followed yet another path out ofthe wood and came to what was evidently a small inn. There was a noisyparty within, caparisoned horses held by orderlies in the yard, andseveral automobiles under the sheds.
"Some of the Crown Prince's wild friends," whispered Major Marchand toRuth. "We must keep out of their sight but appear to be members of theparty. Remember, you are Sub-Leutnant Louden. I am your superior,Leutnant Gilder. Do not speak if you can help it, Fraulein--and thenof the briefest."
She nodded, quite understanding his warning. She was alive to theperil she faced, but she felt no panic of fright now that she was inthe midst of the adventure.
The major found somebody in authority. An auto-car for hire? Surely!A price asked for it and a driver to Merz, which staggered Ruth. Buther companion agreed with a nod. To be a Prussian lieutenant of theCrown Prince's suite one must throw money around!
In ten minutes they were under way--as easily as that was itaccomplished. Huddled down in her corner of the tonneau, with thecloak wrapped around her, Ruth dozed. It was growing very late, andafter her struggle across the swampland between the lines she wasexhausted in body if not in mind.
She awoke suddenly. The car was stopping at a wide gateway and twosentries were approaching to examine their papers.
The Frenchman seemed prepared for everything. He had papers forhimself and for "Sub-Leutnant Louden."
"Correct, Herr Leutnant. Pass on."
The car entered the private estate, but swiftly sped off into a sideroad instead of going up to the big house in the upper windows of whichRuth saw lights, although it was now nearly morning.
"Our quarters are in the gardener's cottage," said the major, loudly,evidently intending the information for the automobile driver's ear.
They came to a roomy old cottage. Its windows were dark. Thechauffeur stopped before it and the major sprang out.
"Have a care how you step," he whispered to Ruth, and she made ready toget out of the car without a tumble. The high boots did feel queer onher legs.
Her companion was hammering on the door of the cottage with the hilt ofhis sword. A window opened above.
"Leutnant Gilder and Sub-Leutnant Louden billeted here. Make haste andcome down," he commanded in his gruffest voice as the automobilewheeled around in the drive and started back for the gate.
In three minutes the door was opened; but it was dark inside.
"Is it thou, my Henri?" whispered a voice.
"Allaire!"
Ruth knew that it was the young count himself. Major Marchand drew herinto the tiny hall. There was not much light, but she saw the two tallmen greet each other warmly--in true French fashion--with a kiss uponeither cheek.