"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 controlled her laughter, however. Here, at the first cross-trench, stood a sentry who let them by when the ghostly leader of the trio, whose face she could not see at all, had whispered the password. Ruth walked between her two companions, and her dress was not noticed in the dark.
Soon they were out of the tunnels through the ridge. Later she learned that the ridge was honeycombed with them. The trench they entered was broader and open to the sky. And muddy!
She stepped once off the "duckboards" laid down in the middle of the passway and dipped half-way to her knee in the mire. She felt that if the major had not pulled her up quickly she might have sunk completely out of sight.
But she did not utter a sound. He whispered in her ear:
"I admire your courage, Mademoiselle. Just a short distance farther. Do not lose heart."
"I am just beginning to feel brave," she whispered in return.