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CHAPTER VIII
HUNLAND IS REACHED AT LAST

“WHAT’S all this row about?” demanded a gruff voice, and a heavy hand was laid on Grace Harlowe’s shoulder.

“Don’t get excited, Buddy,” answered Grace laughingly.

“Woman!” he exclaimed.

“Two of them,” added another M. P. “This needs investigation.”

“Just a moment, please. I – ”

“Arrest those persons, whoever they are. They were trying to break into this house!” shouted Mrs. Smythe.

“Listen to me, Buddies, then arrest us if you think best. These were our billets, but while we were out to dinner with some friends, officers (she accentuated the word), our belongings were thrown into the street and the door barred against us. The woman who did it is Mrs. Smythe, supervisor of the welfare workers with the Third Army. We are both welfare workers.”

“What’s your name?” demanded the M. P. a little less gruffly.

“Grace Harlowe Gray, formerly ambulance driver on the western front.”

“You don’t say!” Striding over to the door, the M. P. struck it a blow with his club. “Open that door or I’ll beat it down!” he ordered.

“No, no,” begged Grace, laying a restraining hand on his arm. “You must not do that, Buddy. Remember there are women in there behind the barred door. If you break it down you will find yourself in serious difficulties. You were going to arrest us?” she asked teasingly, leading him away from the door.

“Arrest nothing. What’s that Chink doing against the wall?”

“Watching our outfit. We were out, as I already have told you, when our things were thrown out. The Chinaman was on hand and remained on guard watching the stuff. I know him and will vouch for him, so please don’t bother him.”

“It goes if you say so. I know you, but you don’t know me. Where are you going to sleep?”

Grace said she did not know and asked him if he knew of a vacant place. The M. P. said there wasn’t one in the village, but that he would turn some fellows out of a cellar and give the place to the two women.

“No, you will not,” declared Grace. “Never mind us, we can shift for ourselves if you can rustle a couple of blankets for us. There is a car just up the street; we can sleep in that.”

“Five doughboys in it already,” the M. P. informed them. “Have to guess again. I’ll tell you what. There’s a covered lorry further up the street, loaded with supplies. We’ll unload enough of them to give you a place to bunk in, if that will suit you.”

“Fine!” glowed Grace. “We shall not be displacing any one and we shall be quite comfortable, I know. Do you make a report of this matter?”

“Sure I do. Want me to say anything in particular?”

“The truth, nothing but the truth,” she advised. “Elfreda, shall we shoulder our household belongings and move to our Pullman?”

“I suppose so, but, my dear, I am bitterly disappointed that you didn’t permit the M. P. to break the door in,” complained J. Elfreda.

“You may well be thankful that he did not. We are on the way to enough trouble as it is. Won, will you carry some of our gear?”

“Let the Chink go. We men will take care of the stuff,” spoke up an M. P.

Grace thanked the soldier and also shook hands with Won, then leaning forward she whispered in his ear, “Watch the plidgins and tell me.” Grace heard him chuckle and knew that it was all right. Elfreda demanded to know what she was doing, but Grace merely laughed and started on after the military police, who were carrying their equipment.

The lorry proved to be a most comfortable place, though the girls knew they would be somewhat cramped for room. Several cases of supplies were removed by the men and stowed forward back of the driver’s seat. Two pairs of blankets were produced, which Grace was quite certain had been hooked from another truck, and dumped into their sleeping place.

“I reckon that’s all we can do for you to-night,” announced the M. P. “Sorry we can’t do more.”

“You have done quite enough and we are grateful,” replied Grace earnestly. “I know we shall have a fine night’s sleep in our – ”

“Rolling bedroom,” finished Elfreda.

“Yes. Perhaps we may dream that we are gypsies. I fear I should just love that vagabond life.”

“No need to tell me that, Grace Harlowe. I have known it for a long time. Suppose we make our beds and retire. Good-night, Buddies.”

“Yes, good-night, and thank you all again,” added Grace.

“We’ll just hook down the tailpiece so in case of storm you won’t get wet. Here’s my club. Should any one bother you, bat him over the head and yell for me. I’ll be on till four in the morning. Good-night.”

The M. P. pulled down the canvas tailpiece and secured it, then the girls heard them going away.

“Even if the M. P.’s are ‘winning the war’ they’re real Americans,” concluded Miss Briggs. “Are you going to undress?”

Grace said she was not, so they removed their blouses, rolled in their blankets and promptly went to sleep.

It was some hours later when Grace Harlowe heard shouting, listened half asleep, then went back into dreamland. Some time later she sat up wide awake. The truck was swaying from side to side, jolting disagreeably, and the horn up forward was honking like a frightened wild goose leader warning its flock. She knew instantly what had happened. The army train was under motion and they were going with it. This was rather more than she had bargained for, and quickly pulling an edge of the tailpiece aside, opening a narrow slit, the Overton girl peered out. The scene was an unfamiliar one. They were out in the country and there was no sign of the village where they had been only a few minutes before, as it seemed to her.

“Why, we must have been out for some time,” she marveled. “Br-r-r!” Rain was falling, the wind was blowing a gale, and marching columns that they were passing were soaked and the faces of the men wore surly expressions.

“No balloon flight to-day, so I suppose I might as well let well enough alone and take what the kind fates have bestowed upon me,” concluded the Overton girl. “Poor Elfreda doesn’t know anything about it. I think I shall go back to sleep.”

This Grace did. Along toward noon she was awakened by Elfreda, who was shaking her.

“Grace Harlowe, do you know where we are?” demanded Miss Briggs.

“Of course I do,” muttered Grace.

“Where?”

“In a camion on our way to the Rhine. Did you only now discover that?”

“Yes.”

“What a sleepy-head! I knew that hours ago, but what was the use in raising a row? We could not be better off.”

“Yes, but our mess,” protested Elfreda.

“We have sufficient in our kits for our needs. Let’s be sensible and take it easy while we may. Think what a lovely time we are missing. We might have had to walk.”

“First this brave soldier would have deserted. The last walk was exercise enough to last me for the rest of my life. Is it your intention to stay in this wagon all day?”

Grace said she hoped to be allowed to remain there undisturbed, declaring that it was the most comfortable berth she had found since coming to France, and suggested that they eat their breakfast. It was not wholly a satisfying meal, but it was helped by a bottle of cold tea which did very well to wash down the hardtack and tinned beef. Enough of the tea was saved for their luncheon, for if the rain continued to fall it was Grace’s intention not to get out at all. After breakfast they lay down for another delicious nap, which was not long coming, lulled as they were by the gusts of rain spattering over the top of the camion. It was not until late in the afternoon that they finally awakened.

Peering out, Grace observed that the line back of them was pulling out of formation, which told her that the army was approaching its objective for the day. The rain had stopped, but a strong wind was whipping the clouds, and altogether the outlook was not a cheerful one.

“Here is a village,” she cried. “I hope we have arrived. See, we too are pulling out of formation.”

Elfreda complained that, as Grace was using the only peep hole in the house, she could see nothing.

The camion soon stopped, then backed up, bumped against something as it started backing again, and finally came to permanent rest. Grace decided that it was time to bestir themselves and was about to call through the opening she had made, for assistance, when some one began unhooking the curtains.

“Look out for a surprise,” whispered “Captain” Grace.

The surprise came, but it was not theirs. The driver of the camion, having unhooked the curtain, raised it up to secure it to the top, probably to permit him to take out some supplies, and suddenly discovered them.

“Here you, get out of that before I yank you out!” he ordered roughly.

“You wouldn’t do a thing like that, now would you, Buddy?” teased Grace.

“What! Who are you?”

Grace told him briefly how they came to be in the car, who they were and what their business was.

“You are probably all right, Miss, but if you are you will understand that this isn’t quite regular,” he declared, considerably perplexed. “I don’t know you. I shall have to call the corporal of the guard and turn you over to him.” This the driver did. The corporal, after looking them over, decided that he must refer the matter to the sergeant. The sergeant was of the opinion that both were spies, and, conducting them to a cellar, told them to go in and wait until he could report to his superior officer.

Grace told him what unit they belonged to and asked him to suggest to his superior that he identify them through any officer in the Forty-seventh.

The sergeant went away, first taking the precaution to close and secure the door from the outside. Grace Harlowe sat down on the cellar floor and laughed until Elfreda, standing over her, hands on hips, thought “Captain” Grace was becoming hysterical.

“I see nothing in the present situation for merriment,” she rebuked most emphatically.

“It is your misfortune, Elfreda, that you have no sense of humor. That you are lacking in this is my one great sorrow in life,” saying which Grace went into another spasm of laughter. She sobered suddenly and got up. “I wish we had had the forethought to fetch our rations with us. It would be just like that man to forget all about us.”

The cellar was damp and very cold, so that sitting down on the floor for any length of time was not prudent, and therefore the girls walked back and forth, Grace seeking to keep up the spirits of her companion, frequently laughing at the thought of the luck of the Overton girls. But when nine o’clock came and no one had been near them, their situation ceased to be a subject for jest.

“Elfreda, I give you due notice that I am going to break jail. I am going to get out of here. Enough is enough,” announced Grace Harlowe.

“How?”

“I shall find a way.” Grace tried the door. It gave a little, but plainly was secured with a bar on the outside. She observed, however, that the door was not heavily built except for the crosspieces.

“Elfreda, can you find that post that we fell over on the rear side of this place?” she called.

“Yes, here it is.” She carried the post to the front. It was heavy, undoubtedly having been used for a supporting post for the floor above at one time, but Grace found it too heavy for one person to use as she wished to use it.

“Elfreda, if you will take hold of this end and stand before the door, steering the post against it as I thrust, I believe we shall be able to smash the miserable thing.”

“Grace Harlowe, you will be court-martialed if you do that – if you break out. Don’t you know that you are at least theoretically under arrest?”

“So are you, but that will not stop me from getting out if I can. Take hold here, please.”

Elfreda did so reluctantly. The two girls then backed up several feet from the door, Grace at the far end of the post, Elfreda near the door end of it.

“When I say Go! run with all your might. Steer the post squarely against the door or you are going to get hurt. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Go!”

A patter of feet, a sharp impact, and a crash followed almost instantly. Elfreda Briggs plunged headfirst into the wreckage, for the door had been stripped from its hinges and broken into many pieces. Grace Harlowe landed on the cellar floor on top of the post, with her breath jolted out of her.

CHAPTER IX
AN IRATE OFFICER

“CAPTAIN” Grace sprang up, gasping for breath, for she had been thrown violently against the end of the post when the other end struck the door.

“Are you hurt, Elfreda?” she cried.

“Of course I am.”

“Forget it and let’s get out of here,” urged Grace, assisting her companion to her feet. “If they catch us now they surely will have a case against us.”

“I can’t forget, but I’ll try to get out,” promised Miss Briggs, rubbing a tender spot on one arm.

They hurried from the cellar to the street. Grace looked up and down the street, then started to the left, having discovered what seemed to her, from his attitude of bored indifference, to be an M. P. As she neared the man she recognized him. It was this M. P. who had assisted the Overton girls to the truck the night before.

“I am truly glad to see you, Buddy,” cried Grace. “We are in difficulties again. We were locked in a cellar as suspicious characters and have just broken jail. Can you tell me if the headquarters of Company A, Forty-seventh, is anywhere near? Also where may I find the Intelligence headquarters?”

“Forty-seventh is at the other end of the town. Intelligence headquarters is the last building before you reach the river bridge right on the way you are headed.”

“What river?”

“The Moselle. Heinie is camped on the other side of it, so be careful that you don’t get too near the bridge or you are liable to be picked up again. Come along, I’ll show you the way. It’s on my beat.”

Grace thanked him gratefully.

“You do not happen to know whether or not Captain Boucher is there, do you?”

The M. P. said he did not, but presumed so, for there was some sort of a council of war being held at the headquarters.

The M. P. left them at the door and Grace entered, halting when she found herself facing a sentry. She said she wished to see Captain Boucher on a matter of importance and asked the sentry to send her name in to the officer. The sentry told her he did not believe Captain Boucher wished to be disturbed, but she insisted that she must see him, so her name was sent in and Grace and Elfreda were seated in the hall.

The Intelligence officer came out immediately and greeted them with great cordiality.

“What can I do for you?” he questioned, smiling down into the flushed face of Grace Harlowe. “Is it something connected with the affair we were speaking of?”

“Not directly. The person that I said knew something about it is, I believe, working for us. I am quite certain that he will have something to report. Have you discovered anything?”

“I have verified your statement.” He smiled grimly. “Beyond that we have not gone. But you have something else to say to me?”

“Yes, sir.” She glanced at the sentry.

“Come into the kitchen. There is a conference in the front room. Now what is it?” he demanded when they had reached the rear room and the door was closed behind them.

“I have just broken out of jail and have come here to ask you to straighten the matter out for me. Miss Briggs is a lawyer, but her sort of law isn’t good on the western front. Besides, she is an accessory both before and after the fact, as she would characterize it.”

“I don’t quite understand,” wondered the captain.

“It is not customary with me to carry my troubles to others, but something must be done or I shall have to go to General Gordon and enter a formal complaint, which I do not wish to do,” began Grace. She thereupon related the story of their ejection from the cottage where they had planned to berth the previous night; their finding a place to sleep in a camion; the arrival at the river and their arrest and imprisonment in the cellar, followed by their smashing the door and taking matters into their own hands.

As Grace related the story a flush mounted to the temples of the Intelligence officer.

“Outrageous! Asinine!” he exclaimed explosively. “You are right, this sort of thing must be put down. I think I see how it happened that you were kept in the cellar. We are on the border of the enemy territory, theoretically on it already, and the officers are very busy this evening, for we have many uncertainties ahead of us.”

“I understand, sir, and should not have come to you, but for the fact that I am likely to be picked up by the M. P. again at any moment.”

“Rest easy. I will attend to that.”

“Thank you. Please do not report the eviction incident. We can settle it when we get to the Rhine, or perhaps by then it will have settled itself,” urged Grace.

“As I was saying, the officers being very busy, the sergeant’s report may not even yet have been read by the officer in command. I am glad that you took matters into your own hands. Have you a place to sleep to-night?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“You ladies will remain here. I will have two cots put in the kitchen. We shall be in conference more or less most of the night and you may not get much sleep. However, it will be better than nothing. In the meantime I will send an orderly to report that you are here and to vouch for you. Where is your equipment?”

Grace told him that it was left in the truck, and described as well as she could the place where the truck might be found.

“Good. Don’t worry. I will also send word to Major Colt so he may know where you are to be found. He has been looking for you, but all he could learn was that neither of you ladies had been seen all day. No one appeared to know what had become of you. He wishes you to go up with him to-morrow. Will you go?”

“Yes, sir, provided I am not then in jail.”

“Very good. I’ll send word to him to that effect,” laughed the captain. “In the meantime make yourselves tea or coffee. There’s army bacon in the chest and potatoes in the woodbox.”

“Pardon me, but have you had mess?” asked Grace.

“Haven’t had time to attend to that. In fact, I had forgotten all about it.”

“With your permission we will get supper for you.”

“That will be fine. Thank you.”

“How many?” questioned “Captain” Grace.

“Just three,” replied the Intelligence officer quizzically. “The others have messed, but perhaps they will be glad of a pot of tea while I am eating with you.”

The Overton girls busied themselves at once and soon had a savory meal going. There were bacon with eggs, French fried potatoes, a bread pudding made of crusts of bread and dressed with a mound of jelly, baked beans and a plate of sardines.

“Something of a hodge-podge,” observed Grace, surveying the layout rather disapprovingly. “It lacks something, but I can’t think what.”

“I know what,” spoke up Elfreda. “It lacks three people with appetites. The odor of that bacon and eggs nearly drives me frantic, and if we don’t sit down soon my appetite will overcome my better judgment. The tea is ready for the council of war. I suppose they have their mess cups with them.”

“If not, they will be obliged to drink out of the teapot. I’ll hand it in.” Grace tapped on the door, which was opened by Captain Boucher. “The tea, sir. Have you cups?” The captain nodded and Grace pointed to the table. The signal was unnecessary, for the captain’s eyes and nose had informed him that supper was ready.

The officer joined them soon afterwards, and a pleasant chat helped to compensate for what was lacking in food. He declared that it was the daintiest meal he had had, outside of Paris, since coming to France.

“I will send in your belongings as soon as they arrive. You may then turn in and will not be disturbed. You can lock the door leading into the front room if you wish.”

Grace thanked him, saying that she preferred to leave the door unlocked. They had about finished clearing up after the meal when Captain Boucher entered with two soldiers who had brought the girls’ things from the truck. There was also news for them. Their difficulty had been adjusted, and nothing further would be done in the matter. As Captain Boucher had surmised, the officer to whom the sergeant submitted his report on their arrest had not even taken time to look at it.

“I presume the French Government will bring in a bill for the door we broke down,” suggested Grace laughingly.

“Trust the French for that. One never has to ask them for a bill. Oh, by the way, Major Colt’s car will be here for you at nine-thirty. He asks me to say to you that he has signed you up for an interesting voyage in the skies.”

“Do you think, sir, that he has flying togs that I could use?”

“That will be provided. You will have a cold sail, but I don’t suppose you will mind that after your months of campaigning.”

“No, sir. How will Miss Briggs ride?”

“In the major’s car with myself and two others. She will ride out to see you make the start. Good-night. Hope you sleep well. The cots are standing up there in the corner.”

Grace and Elfreda made preparations for retiring and were soon in bed and asleep, Grace undisturbed by the noise or the thought of what was to be a thrilling day for her on the morrow.