"We got to watch this old ranch," continued the talkative sentinel, nodding toward the half-ruined dwelling. "Somebody thinks there's something besides cooties in it. Yep," as the major started and looked at him questioningly. "Spies. Those Dutchmen are mighty smart, they do say. I'm told they flash signals from that window up yonder clear across the swamps to the German lines. Now, when it gets dark——"
He nodded and pursed his lips. The major nodded in return. Ruth remained silent, but she was becoming nervous. While they were in action and going forward the suspense was not so hard to bear. But now she began to wonder how she was ever going to cross that morass the major had told her about. And half a hundred other difficulties paraded through her troubled mind.
They sat upon the bank, and waited. The sentinel continued to march up and down just the other side of the fire, occasionally throwing a remark at the major, but usually with his face turned toward the house, which was distant about five furlongs.
Suddenly Ruth observed that Major Marchand had in his palm a little round mirror. He seemed to be manipulating it to catch the firelight. Ruth saw in a moment what he was about.
The sentinel stopped in his beat with a smothered exclamation. His back was to them and he was staring up at the open window of the house.
There came a flash of light from the window—another! Like lightning the sentinel raised his rifle and fired pointblank into the opening on the second floor.
Then, with a shout, he dashed across the intervening space and disappeared within the house. Major Marchand seized Ruth's hand and rose to his feet.