CHAPTER IX
COT 24--HUT H
The guns on the battle front had been silent for twenty-four hours; butthere were whispers of the Yankees "getting back" at the Heinies inreturn for the outbreak of German gunfire which had startled RuthFielding the afternoon she had taken tea at the Chateau Marchand.
The outbreak of the new attack--this time from the American side--beganabout nine o'clock at night. A barrage was laid down, behind which,Ruth learned, several raiding parties would go over.
Just the method of this advance across No Man's Land Ruth did notunderstand. But all the time the guns were roaring back and forth(for, of course, the Germans quickly replied) she knew the Americanboys were in peril all along that sector.
That was a bad night for Ruth. She lay in her cot awake, but with hereyes closed, breathing deeply and regularly so that those about herthought she was asleep.
In the morning the matron said:
"You are really quite wonderful, Miss Fielding, to sleep through allthat. I wish I could do the same."
And all night long Ruth had been praying--praying for the safety of theboys that had gone over the top, not for herself. That she was indanger did not greatly trouble her. She thought of the soldiers. Shethought particularly of Tom Cameron--wherever he might be!
The flurry of gunfire was over by dawn. After breakfast Ruth went downto the gate. She had heard the ambulances rolling in for hours, andnow she saw the stretcher-bearers stumbling into the receiving wardwith the broken men. Here they were operated upon, when necessary, andsorted out--the _grands blesses_ sent to the more difficult wards, theless seriously wounded to others.
Curiosity did not bring Ruth to the gate. It was in the hope of seeingCharlie Bragg that she went there. Nor was she disappointed.
His shaky old car rolled up with three men under the canvas and onewith a bandaged arm sitting on the seat beside him. Charlie was paleand haggard. Half the top of the ambulance had been shot away sinceshe had ridden in it, and the boy had roughly repaired the damage witha blanket. But he nodded to Ruth with his old cheerful grin. Nothingcould entirely quench Charlie Bragg.
"Got tipped over and holed up in a marmite cave for a couple of hoursduring the worst of it last night," he told Ruth. "Never mind. Itgave me another chapter for my new book. Surely! I'm going to write asecond one. They all do, you know. You rather get the habit."
"But, Charlie! Is--is there any news?" she asked him, with shakingvoice and eyes that told much of her anxiety.
He knew well what she meant, and he looked grim enough for a minute,and nodded.
"Yes. A little."
"Oh, Charlie! They--they haven't found him?"
"No. Maybe they'd better _not_," breathed the boy, shaking his head."I don't think there's any hope, Miss Ruth."
"Oh, Charlie! He's not _dead_?"
"Better be," muttered the boy. "I wouldn't ask if I were you. Itlooks bad for him--everybody says so."
"You know him, Charlie Bragg!" she burst out angrily. "Can _you_believe Tom Cameron would do such a wicked thing as this they accusehim of?"
"We-ell. I don't want to believe it," he agreed. "But, look here!"and in desperation he pulled something from his pocket. "You knowthat, don't you?"
"Why! Tom's matchbox!" cried the girl, taking the silver box andseeing the initials of the lost soldier on the case. She had had itengraved herself--and Helen had paid for the box. They had given it toTom when he went to Harvard for his Freshman course.
"Of course. I've seen him use it, too," Charlie Bragg hurried to say."I knew it and begged it of the fellow who found it."
"Where did he find it?"
"You know, some of our boys went across and visited the Heinies lastnight," Charlie said gently. "They got right into the German trenchesand drove out the Heinies. And in a German dugout--before they blew itup with bombs--this chap I talked with picked up that box."
"Oh, Charlie!" gasped the girl.
"Yes. He didn't see the significance of the monogram. He didn't knowMr. Cameron personally, I think. He was slightly wounded and I helpedhim with first aid. He gave the box to me as a German souvenir," andthe driver of the ambulance looked grim.
"Then they surely have got poor Tom!" whispered Ruth.
"At least, it looks as though he went over that way," agreed the boysadly.
"Don't speak so, Charlie!" she cried. "I tell you he has been takenprisoner."
"We-ell," drawled her friend again, "we can't know about that."
"But we _will_ know!" she said, with added vehemence. "It will allcome out in time. Only--it will be too late to help poor Tom, then."
"Gosh!" groaned Charlie Bragg. "It's too late to help him now--if youshould ask me!"
Ruth had nobody to talk to about Tom Cameron save the young ambulancedriver. And him she could see but seldom.
For fear of having to explain to her chum, she could not write to HelenCameron, who was in Paris. Just now, too, she was too busy for letterwriting.
Mrs. Strang found a girl to help Ruth in the supply hut, one who waswilling and able to learn all about the merchandise under Ruth's care.The latter was not asked to remain at this hospital outpost for long.Her place was at Clair, and, until the Red Cross directors deliberatelychanged her, Ruth must give her first thought to the Clair SupplyHeadquarters.
She saw, however, that she would be several days at this fieldhospital. She had been glad to come in hope of learning somethingabout Tom. Now she saw that she was doomed to disappointment.
This locality was the last place in which to search for news of thelost lieutenant. Everybody here (everybody who spoke of the matter atall) believed that Tom Cameron had played the traitor and, for money orsome other unexplained reason, had gone over to the enemy.
"As though poor Tom could even dream of such a thing!" she thought.
She must keep her opinion to herself. She was too wise to start anyargument on the affair. It might be, if she kept still, that she wouldlearn something of significance that would lead to an explanation ofthe terrible event.
What she personally could do to save Tom's reputation she did not evenimagine at the time. Nevertheless, there might be some chance of doinghim a good turn.
As for his personal safety, she had lost all hope of that. Shebelieved he had been captured by the Germans, and she had heard toomany stories of their treatment of prisoners to hope that he wouldescape injury and actual torture.
It was said that the enemy would treat the first Americans capturedwith particular harshness, in hope of "frightening the Yankees." Sheknew that the advancing Canadians had found their captured brotherscrucified on barn doors in the early months of the war. Why should theYankees expect better treatment from the Huns?
With this load of anxiety and fear upon her heart, Ruth still foundtime for interest in what went on about her. She was an observantgirl. And, as ever, her sympathies were touched in behalf of thewounded.
Although the American Red Cross had taken over this field hospital,most of the wounded were Frenchmen.
She was glad to see so many visitors daily bringing comforts for themen; but of all those who came she noted particularly thepeculiar-looking Nicko, the chocolate vender. Daily he came, and Ruthalways observed both his comings and goings.
Never did he fail to go into a particular ward--one of those in whichthe more seriously wounded patients lay--Hut H. She sometimes saw himgoing through the aisles at his funny, wabbling gait, offering hiswares to the soldiers. The latter jeered at him, or joked with him, astheir mood was. He wore an old battered hat, the brim of which floppedover his face and half masked his features.
One afternoon Ruth met the strange fellow at the door of Hut H. Shewas going out as he was coming in. The man backed away from her,mumbling. She threw a coin into his basket and took a small package ofchocolate.
"_Bien oblige, Mademoiselle_!" he was startled into saying, and bowedto her. It was not the stiff, mar
tial bow she had before noted, butthe sweeping, ingratiating bow of the Frenchman. Ruth walked on, butshe was startled.
Finally she turned swiftly and went back to the door of Hut H. Thenurse on duty had just come from the end of the ward. Over hershoulder Ruth saw Nicko halt beside one of the cots far down the line.
"Who is that Nicko converses with?" Ruth asked idly.
"Oh, his friend, the Boche. Didn't you know we had a German officerwith us? Cot 24. Not a bad fellow at all. Yes, Nicko never fails tosell our Boche friend chocolate. He is a regular customer."
"Cot 24--Hut H," Ruth repeated in her own mind. She would not forgetthat. And yet--did it mean anything? Was there something wrong withNicko, the chocolate peddler?