file
leader flashing an electric torch to show the way.

"The relief," whispered Major Marchand, when they had gone. "They may
be swarming down this hill after us in a few minutes."

The two hurried on. The keen feeling of peril and adventure gripped
Ruth Fielding's soul. It was not with fear that she trembled now.

At length they halted in a pitch-black place, which might have been
almost anything but the sheepfold Major Marchand told Ruth it was. He
produced an officer's trench whistle and blew a long and peculiar blast
on it.

"Now, hush!" he whispered. "It is against usage to use these whistles
for anything but the command to go over the top at 'zero.' Necessity,
however, Mademoiselle, knows no law."

They waited. Not a sound answered. There was no stir on any side of
them. Ruth's fears seemed quenched entirely. Now a feeling of
exultation gripped her. She was fairly into this adventure. It was
too late to go back.

The major blew the whistle a second time and in the same way. Suddenly
a dark figure loomed before them. There was a word In French spoken
out of the darkness. It was not the password the Major had given the
American sentinel.

"Come, Mademoiselle," said the major. "Give me your hand again."

Ruth's warm hand slipped confidently into his enclosing palm. The
Frenchman's courtesy and unfailing gentleness had assured her that she
was perfectly safe in his care.

They left the sheepfold, the second man, whoever he was, moving ahead
to guide them. Even in the open it was now very dark. There was no
moon, and the stars were faint and seemed very far away.

Finally Ruth saw that a ridge of land confronted them; but they did not
climb its face. Instead, they followed a winding path along its foot,
which soon, to the girl's amazement, became a tunnel. It was dimly lit
with an electric bulb here and there along its winding length.

"Where are we?" she whispered to the major.

"This is the first approach-trench," he returned. "But silence,
Mademoiselle. Your voice is not--well, it is not masculine."

She understood that she was not to attract attention. A woman in the
trenches would, indeed, create both curiosity and remark.

The guide stopped within a few yards and sought out trench helmets that
they all put on. When the strap was fastened under her chin Ruth
almost laughed aloud. What would Helen and Jennie say if they could
see her in this brand of millinery?

She co