"Oh! Are we near?" she asked, obeying him.
"Yes. Can you go on again?"
"At once," she declared with confidence.
They walked to the end of the long log. Stepping down, she found that the quagmire was not so deep. But for some minutes they continued to plow through it, but walking as softly as possible.
Ahead there was a flash of light. Ruth thought it might be another flare, and prepared to drop down in the mud.
But it was merely an electric torch. There were voices—rougher voices than those to which Ruth had been used. She caught German words.
Major Marchand drew her behind the huge trunk of a tree. There splashed past through the mud a file of bulky figures. When they had gone, her companion whispered to the girl:
"Fraulein, it is a patrol. We are in good season. Soon we shall be there."
She was soon able to walk beside him on higher ground. She saved her breath for continued exertion. They came to a wire entanglement somewhat similar to that on the American side of the morass. But here a narrow path had been opened for the patrol.
"Halt! Who goes there?" croaked the sentinel.