Grace was up at break of day next morning. After dressing she stepped out for a long breath of fresh, crisp air and a look about. There was activity all about her, and the smoke of rolling kitchens and the odor of cooking food was on the air. Glancing to the eastward and into the haze of the early morning, Grace Harlowe’s eyes dwelt momentarily on a little strip of forest about a quarter of a mile from her point of observation, then passed on.
A bird was rising from among the trees in the forest. She saw it circle and spiral, steadily rising higher and higher, finally setting out on a course to the eastward. Many times had the Overton girls seen pigeons bearing messages of great moment start out from the American lines, and what she had just witnessed was so much like the flight of a carrier pigeon that she could not believe it was not one. The difference that caused the doubt of her vision was that the pigeons she had seen in flight were always headed to the westward, while this one was flying east.
“There goes another!” exclaimed Grace. “This doesn’t look right.”
Three birds in all arose, circled and soared to the eastward while she stood watching. Grace wondered what it could mean, there now being no doubt in her mind that she had witnessed the flight of war pigeons. Returning to the cellar, she awakened Miss Briggs, told her to get up and make the tea, started the fire and went out with the mess kits to fetch their breakfast.
Breakfast was rather hurried, as Grace knew she would have to look for the car that she was to drive that morning, and that operation undoubtedly would consume some little time. It did. She was sent from officer to officer before she found the one who was to assign a car to her, and even then she had difficulty in obtaining possession of the vehicle. At last she succeeded in getting it, and lost no time in getting away with the machine before it should be grabbed by some one else.
Pulling up before their cellar she jumped out and ran down to assist in loading aboard their belongings.
“All aboard for the River Rhine, Elfreda,” she called cheerily. “We are going to enjoy this drive, I know. The air is fine.”
“I can’t say as much for the water in this neck of the woods. That water yesterday was beastly. Don’t you dare give me another such a bath, Grace Harlowe,” warned Elfreda.
“No, I’m determined to be good to-day and not do a thing to rile our supervisor. You shall see how nice I can be to her. Come, we must get ready.”
A few moments later they pulled up before Mrs. Smythe’s cellar and sat waiting for her to appear, after having given a few discreet honks on the horn. When the supervisor emerged with her maid and Miss O’Leary, her face wore a hard expression that had not been there before.
Grace, jumping out, opened the car door for her, slammed it shut after the passengers were in, and saluted snappily.
“Does not Miss Cahill ride with us to-day?” she questioned.
“Carry on as you are!” commanded Mrs. Smythe.
“Very good,” answered the Overton girl, climbing to her seat.
“Just a moment,” commanded the supervisor. “You are to drive slowly to-day. At the first indication of recklessness or the slightest disobedience of orders I shall call an officer to place you under arrest for insubordination. Do you get me clearly?”
“I get you quite clearly, Madame,” answered Grace smilingly. “What speed – three, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty or forty miles?”
“You know what I mean. I ordered you to drive slowly.”
Grace swung into the highway and started off at a speed of about five miles an hour, but she had not gone far ere the rasping voice of her superior ordered her to drive, not creep.
The speed of the car was increased to ten miles an hour, but beyond this the Overton girl would not go, despite the insistent demands of Mrs. Smythe. Finally exasperated beyond measure, Grace stopped the car at the side of the road and faced her supervisor.
“Perhaps, Madame, you would prefer to have Miss Briggs drive the car?”
“No, thank you,” spoke up Elfreda.
“Are you a safe driver?” demanded Mrs. Smythe.
“Very, but I am not a skilled driver.”
“Take the wheel. You can do no worse than the present driver.”
“I will settle with you for this later,” muttered J. Elfreda in a low voice to her companion. “I call this a low-down trick. I probably shall turn you all over in the ditch.”
“Go as far as you like,” answered Grace, getting out to enable Elfreda to take the driver’s seat. Miss Briggs fumbled, stalled the car, but after a few back-fires succeeded in getting under way, the passenger growing more and more irritable as the moments passed.
Elfreda shot ahead with a jolt that brought a torrent of abuse from the supervisor, and narrowly missed smashing into an officer’s car ahead. A few rods further on, in attempting to dodge an army truck, J. Elfreda Briggs came to grief. One of the rear wheels of the army automobile slipped from the road into a shallow ditch, the wheels sank into the soft mud and the car began to settle, threatening every second to turn over on its side. Grace snapped off the spark and silenced the motors, her quick action saving them from a bad spill. Elfreda had wholly lost her head.
“Drive out, drive out!” cried Mrs. Smythe.
“I – I can’t,” gasped Miss Briggs. “The wheels will go around but the car won’t move. What shall I do?”
“We must all get out,” directed Grace.
Just then a car slipped past them and brought up abruptly. Grace observed that it was an officer’s car, but beyond that gave no heed. A second or so later she saw two men get out and walk back toward them.
“I thought I recognized you when we passed, Mrs. Gray,” called a familiar voice. “Are you in need of assistance?”
“Why, Colonel Gordon – I mean General Gordon,” corrected Grace, flushing. “I am glad to see you and glad of the opportunity to congratulate you on your promotion.”
“You are no more delighted to see me than I am to meet you again. I believe this is Miss Briggs, isn’t it? Mrs. Gray and Miss Briggs, meet Captain Boucher of the Intelligence Department.”
The general and the captain shook hands cordially with both Overton girls, the general giving a quick, comprehensive glance at the occupants of the rear seats, and nodding ever so slightly. Grace did not offer to introduce either to the supervisor.
“Mrs. Gray is the young woman who saved my life in the Argonne, Captain. I could tell you a lot more about her, but I know it would embarrass her if I did. Miss Briggs, I did not know that you drove.”
“I don’t,” answered J. Elfreda rather abruptly.
“Oh, yes she does,” insisted Grace. “At least she has just driven us into a ditch. Miss Briggs learned to drive immediately after the armistice was signed, but in doing so she smashed up two army cars and ran over a major. She will soon be up to my record. My latest exploit, General, was trying conclusions with the concrete railing of a bridge yesterday. The bridge won and we all went into the river.”
“Was that your car that I saw hanging over the edge of a bridge near Etain, Mrs. Gray?”
“Yes, sir, that was the car.”
Mrs. Smythe who had been controlling her emotions with some success, now interjected herself into the conversation.
“General, I think I have met you. I am Mrs. Chadsey Smythe, in command of the welfare workers of – ”
The general and the captain saluted, smiled and turned back to Grace.
“That was not the worst of it,” resumed Grace. “I had with me my supervisor, a somewhat irritable person. She went into the river with