Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine

Grace shrugged her shoulders.

“There are many others more worth while, sir,” she made reply, turning to hand a doughboy a bar of chocolate. “I – ”

Grace did not finish the sentence. An explosion that seemed to be splitting the earth wide open crushed in one end of the canteen and blew off part of the roof, bringing a good part of the structure down on the heads of the occupants of the building.

CHAPTER XVII

THE TREACHERY OF THE HUN

FORTUNATELY for those in the canteen the heavy framework of the building stood up under the blast, so though they were buried in the wreckage it was comparatively light wreckage.

Major Colt and one soldier suffered the most, the major being hit on the head with a piece of galvanized iron roofing and knocked unconscious. It was Grace Harlowe who raised the piece from his body and dug him out of the mess, though she herself was dazed almost to the point of losing herself. In the midst of the confusion she found herself thinking of Elfreda, who had not yet come on for the evening, though darkness had fallen, and Grace was thankful.

After getting the officer out, Grace plunged into the wreckage again, for the canteen had caught fire and there were still others to be rescued. By this time doughboys had rushed to the scene, two grabbing her and fairly throwing her out. They ordered her to stay out, but not before she had dragged out Marie and made her as comfortable as possible.

Major Colt had recovered consciousness by the time she got to him.

“Wha – at was it?” he asked weakly.

“Ammunition dump, I think.”

“Hun work!” he growled.

“Looks like it. I hope our people will get busy now. Is there anything I can do for you? If not I must look after Marie. She got a hard rap on the head, same as you did.”

“If you will have some one help me to my quarters I think I shall be all right. Did you get me out?”

“Yes. Here, Buddy, will you please give Major Colt a lift?” she called to a passing soldier, and a moment later, after pressing Grace’s hand, the balloonist was being guided to his billet. Grace, in the meantime, had assisted Marie to her feet and was leading her toward the house in which the welfare workers were living.

Only a short distance away from the canteen shells were going up with loud bangs, and this racket kept up for half an hour, until the last of the ammunition dump had been destroyed, wounding many persons, but fortunately having killed only two men. Doughboys soon put out the fire in the canteen, but all gave the ammunition dump a wide berth.

Reaching the house the Overton girl was met by Elfreda, who had been considerably shaken up by the explosion, which had crashed every window in the house.

“Ammunition dump blown up,” Grace informed Elfreda in answer to the latter’s glance of inquiry. “Here we are, Marie. I will put you to bed, then I must hurry back. Elfreda, you had better go out with me. We may be needed, if they should wish to transfer the canteen to-night.”

Mrs. Smythe was in her room. Grace observed that her face was pale and lined.

“Wha – wha – what has happened?” she gasped.

“Nothing very much except that an ammunition dump has blown up. I have seen many of them go up, but never one quite so near. The canteen is wrecked, Mrs. Smythe. Have you orders for us?”

“N – n – n – no!” stammered the supervisor. “Y – ye – yes. Go out and find out all you can, then come back and report to me.”

“About what?” demanded Grace politely.

“About what is to be done.”

“Very good. I will leave Marie in your hands. She is badly shaken up and should be put to bed at once.”

“That’s her affair,” observed the supervisor, beginning to get control of her nerves. “Are you going?”

Grace nodded and stepped out into the hall, where she found Elfreda awaiting her, and together they hurried away.

“Absolutely unfeeling,” declared Grace heatedly. “She will make that girl put herself to bed, and Marie can scarcely stand.”

“Tell me about it,” urged Miss Briggs.

“I know nothing at all about it except that the building fell in on us. I assisted Marie and the major out, the latter having received a bang on the head that completely knocked him out. By the way, do you know a Chinaman who carries a red birthmark on the left side of his face?”

“I do not,” returned J. Elfreda, elevating her chin a little. “I do not associate with those animals.”

“Be sensible, Elfreda.”

“Why do you ask?” demanded Elfreda.

“I have my reasons. Some queer doings in Coblenz; and the end is not yet.”

“Do – do you think the Boches blew up the dump?”

“I cannot say that. My natural impression, of course, is that they did. I was asking the major about Miss Marshall about the time the blow-up occurred, and he suggested that I ask Captain Boucher, intimating that if the captain would talk he would give me information that would amaze me.”

“H – m – m – m! That sounds interesting. He will talk to you, all right. Every one does. Oh, look at the canteen!” she cried when they came within sight of the wrecked building. A squad of men, with an officer in charge, were at work, clearing away and salvaging such of the supplies as had not been destroyed.

“Here, Mrs. Gray, I am glad you have come over. What are we to do with this stuff?” demanded the officer.

“I am not in charge, Lieutenant. Mrs. Smythe is the supervisor.”

“Then why isn’t she here attending to her duties?”

Grace said she could not answer for that.

“I would suggest, sir, if you will, that you have the supplies taken on a truck to the Number Two Canteen. To-morrow the supervisor can make such disposition of them as she sees fit.”

“Very good. I commission you to take charge of removing and caring for the goods. You are under orders.”

Grace saluted and asked the officer to order a truck to the scene, which he promptly did. Grace then got to work. Her salvaging was thorough. There were many boxes of chocolate bars that had been crushed, in some instances to powder. These she had carefully removed, saving every possible grain of the sweets for melting over. Observing that she was handling the situation properly, the officer went away.

After two hours of hard work the supplies were collected and loaded on the truck. Grace thanked the men who had worked so well for her, and climbing to the seat of the truck, rode with it to its destination. The Number Two Canteen was located some distance from the scene of the explosion, but it had suffered the loss of most of its windows just the same, as had many of the buildings in Coblenz.

Number Two Canteen being open, Grace informed the worker in charge that the supplies were to be left there until Mrs. Smythe gave orders for their distribution. Grace then started for home.

Reaching her billet Grace tapped on the door of Mrs. Smythe’s room, wishing to report what had been done. The supervisor bade her enter.

“Oh, I beg pardon,” exclaimed Grace, observing that Mrs. Smythe was not alone.

A well-groomed man, wearing a vandyke beard, slightly gray, rose and extended a hand to the Overton girl.

“Mrs. Gray, I believe.”