They wheeled around, boldly passing the front of the Marchand house where the general and his staff lived and where Tom had been an unwilling guest for three days, and so reached the main entrance of the estate.
Here their papers were scrutinized, but superficially. Captain von Brenner's name was already known. Leutnant Gilder and Sub-Leutnant Louden were remembered from the previous evening.
The car started again. It slipped between the massive stone posts of the gateway. It sped toward the front. But all the peril was yet ahead.
"How can we get through the German trenches if they are already filled with the shock troops that will be sent over following the barrage?" asked Tom.
"We must beat them to it, as you Americans say," chuckled the major, whose spirits seemed to rise as the peril increased.
And he prophesied well in this matter. They were, indeed, in the trenches before the reserves were brought up for the planned attack upon the American lines.
The trio of fugitives left the car at the wayside inn. They found the hidden hut and made their changes into rubber suits, an outfit being produced for Tom by the indefatigable Major Marchand.
Through the shrouding darkness they went in single file to the wood directly behind the trenches. As on the previous night the French spy had secured the password. Three men with an evident objective "up front" were allowed to pass without question.
Once "over the top" they lay in the field until a patrol went out through the wire entanglements to spy about No Man's Land. The three joined this party, but quite unknown to its leader.
Once on the black waste at the edge of the morass, the three fugitives separated from the German patrol and slipped down into the low ground. Major Marchand found the path, and, for a second time, there began for Ruth that wearisome and exhausting journey through the swamp.